IN ST. KILDA. 
263 
Such is the beautiful description of Dover Cliff, 
by Shakspeare ; hut what would he have said, could 
he have looked down from this precipice in St. 
Kilda, which is nearly three times higher, and so 
tremendous, that one who was accustomed to regard 
such sights with indifference, dared not venture to 
the edge of it alone? But, held by two of the 
islanders, he looked over into what might be termed 
a world of rolling mists and contending clouds. As 
these occasionally broke and dispersed, the ocean 
was disclosed below, but at so great a depth, that 
even the roaring of its surf, dashing with fury 
against the rocks, and rushing, with a noise like 
thunder, into the caverns it had formed, was unheard 
at this stupendous height. The brink was wet 
and slippery, — the rocks perpendicular from their 
summit to their base; and yet, upon this treacherous 
surface, the St. Kilda people approached, and sat 
upon the extremest verge ; the youngest of them 
even creeping down a little way from the top, after 
eggs or birds, building in the higher range, which 
they take in great numbers, by means of a slender 
pole like a fishing-rod, at the end of which was 
fixed a noose of cow-hair, stiffened at one end with 
the feather of a Solan Goose. 
But these pranks of the young are nothing when 
compared to the fearful feats of the older and more 
experienced practitioners. Several ropes of hide and 
hair are first tied together to increase the depth of 
his descent. One extremity of these ropes, so con- 
nected, is of hide, and the end is fastened, like a 
girdle, round his waist. The other extremity is then 
let down the precipice, to a considerable depth, 
