can; even these are sometimes insufficient to supply them with food, and they are then obliged to eat seaweed to save themselves from starving.

Under such circumstances, the people are induced to use every art to catch the wild birds, and to get their eggs. They often crawl along the edges of the precipices, and if you were to see them on the lofty cliffs, you would almost fear that the first breath of wind would sweep them down, and plunge them in the waves below.

But the bird catchers resort even to more dangerous means than these. They put ropes around their bodies, and with a small net in hand, they are let down from the top of the rock by their companions, and, descending among the birds, catch them in their nets.

Sometimes they enter the deep hollows in the rocks, and here they find a great many eggs and young birds. The islanders even go to these frightful places in the night with torches, and catch the bewildered birds in their hands as they are sitting on the rocks.

One of the most remarkable islands in the Hebrides is St. Kilda, the most western part of land belonging to

the British islands. It is about three miles in length, and has several high peaks, with beautiful little valleys between them. These are fertile, and about one hundred and fifty people inhabit them. Here they live in winter and in summer, cut off from the rest of mankind, and surrounded by the rolling sea.

It almost makes one shudder to think of living in such a place; yet the inhabitants of St. Kilda appear contented and happy. They venture forth upon the water in their little boats, and catch a great many fish; and they climb the steep cliffs and catch a great many birds.

One of the peaks on the island rises to the height of fifteen hundred feet. A person, standing upon it, can look around him to the distance of seventy miles in every direction.

To the east he may see some of the Hebrides, but to the north, the west, and the south, nothing is visible but the wide ocean, with here and there some whale spouting upon its surface, or some lonely ship pursuing its way across the Atlantic.

Such is the magnificent view presented in the dis

tance to him who stands upon the peak of St. Kilda. But if he looks beneath his feet, a terrific sight is before him. Down, far down, in an almost perpendicular line, to the distance of a quarter of a mile, are the tumultuous waves breaking against the rocks, and sending their faint murmurs up to his ear.

Thousands of birds are hovering along the rocks, and skimming over the sea, and those whose wings are six feet in extent, seem diminished to the size of swallows. The harsh scream of the sea-gull is scarcely heard, and the thousand voices of the ducks and geese come upon the ear only at intervals between the roarings of the surge.

It is almost impossible for a person to look down from this cliff, without being dizzy; yet the inhabitants of St. Kilda fearlessly climb along the very edges of the rocks, and swing over them with ropes about their bodies.

Such is their skill, that accidents seldom happen, and the bird catcher, who has been all day exposed or the precipices in search of eggs, or game, generally returns at night to his family in safety.

Sometimes, indeed, it is otherwise. In a few instances, the rock upon which the climber has placed his foot has broken away; or a stone has fallen upon him, and swinging downwards through the air, he has been plunged for ever in the tide.

This bird-catching, whether in the Hebrides, the Orkneys, or the Shetland Isles, is a fearful pursuit. Whenever I think of these people, swinging from the high rocks catching birds, to provide themseves with a meal, I feel thankful for every bit of food that I put into my mouth. It is good to think of other's dangers and deprivations, that we may be the more grateful for our own safety and abundant comforts. What if I were obliged to go bird catching for my bread; swinging by an old rope from a rock a thousand feet high! I cannot bear to think of it. Let us eat our morsels in peace, and put up our daily prayer,Give us this day our daily bread,' with a thankful heart and confiding spirit.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Bend

Parley gives an account of Staffa. Fingal's Cave.
ing Pillars. People of the Hebrides. Songs. Ossian's
Poems. The Orkneys. People. Climate. Shetland
Islands. People. Climate. Northern Lights.

THERE is a very remarkable little island among the Hebrides, called Staffa. It is about a mile and a half in circumference, and is celebrated for the basaltic pillars, that is, rocks in the form of columns, which support a great part of the island. The most wonderful specimen of these, is in what is usually called Fingal's Cave. This is a magnificent cavern among the cliffs on the seashore: it is above two hundred feet long, varying in breadth from fifty feet at the entrance to twenty feet at the further end, and in height from one hundred and seventeen to seventy feet. The sides of the cave are composed of ranges of basaltic pillars, and the roof is formed of the tops of such as have been broken away. The floor is at some depth below the water, so that a boat can proceed to the further extrem