Wanderings of a Naturalist 



On landing at Kilronan, and indeed surveying the islands 

 as a whole, one is struck by the absence of any rich pasture 

 land; the stones in their numbers more than rival the most 

 barren parts of Ross-shire where the crofters struggle against 

 adversity. Walls are few and far between, and with the 

 coming of summer the grass becomes so parched that all the 

 ponies are taken across to the Connemara hills to graze in 

 the month of June, and are not brought back until the latter 

 part of September, when the sun has lost most of his heat 

 and the autumn rains have as a rule commenced. 



Owing to this lack of moisture and the limestone nature 

 of the soil there is no peat on any of the Aran Islands, and 

 as the islanders burn little else it has to be transported from 

 Connemara in smacks — a highly lucrative trade during the 

 war and even after owing to the increased price of coal. If by 

 any chance the supply of peat becomes exhausted the islanders 

 fall back on dried cow-dung, which is said to make an efficient 

 substitute. 



On the Aran Islands frost and snow are almost unknown, 

 and though on the mainland little growth was showing, on 

 Kilronan, when I landed, jonquils and daffodils made the 

 gardens bright. In conversation with one of the islanders, 

 who in appearance and manner of speech closely resembled 

 the Highlander of the west of Scotland, T learned that some 

 years ago a certain small steamboat, well known throughout 

 the west coast of Scotland and the Hebrides, and having her 

 headquarters in Oban, was employed for a time on the run 

 between Galway and the Aran Islands. Her Gaelic-speaking 

 crew were able to converse with the islanders though with 

 a certain difficulty, but there was one member of the crew — 

 an old man — my informant stated, whose Gaelic the islanders 

 understood as though he was one of themselves, so that he 

 became extremely popular, and was initiated into much local 

 lore and taught the songs of the islands. 



It was sunset as we weighed anchor and set our course 

 for Galway. A few rose-coloured clouds lay above the 



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