There are many other points of interest to that I might touch upon, but I have said enough perhaps to indicate to any intelligent observer the kind of country he may be led to expect in the Long Island. Of course the history of the glacial period is very well illustrated in many parts of the mainland, which are much easier of access than the Outer Hebrides. But these islands contain, at least, one bit of evidence which does not occur anywhere else in Britain. In them we obtain, for the first time, data for measuring the actual slope of the ice-sheet. It does not follow, however, that the inclination of the surface towards the Atlantic was the same all over the area covered by the ice-sheet. The slope of the sheet that flowed east into the basin of the German Ocean, for example, may have been, and probably was, less than that of the Hebridean ice-flow. But apart altogether from this particular point, I think there is no part of the British Islands where the evidence for the former action of a great ice-sheet is more abundant and more easily read, or where one may realise with such vividness the conditions that obtained during that period of extraordinary climatic vicissitudes, which geologists call the Glacial Epoch. Leaving these old arctic scenes, and coming down to the actual present, no one, I think, can wander much about the Outer Hebrides without pondering over the fate of the islanders themselves. Many writers have asserted that the Celt of these rather out-of-the-way places is a lazy, worthless creature, whom we Saxons should do our best to weed out. One cannot help feeling that this assertion is unfair and cruel. The fact is, we judge him by a wrong standard. He is by nature and long-inherited habits a fisherman, and has been wont to cultivate only so much land as should suffice for the sustenance of himself and those immediately dependent upon him. In old times he was often enough called upon to fight, wrongly or rightly, and thus acquired that proud bearing which it has taken so many long years of misery to crush out. He is, as a rule, totally unfit for the close confinement and hard work which are the lot of the great mass of our mechanics--does not see the beauty of that, and has rather a kind of contempt for the monotonous drudgery of large manufacturing towns. One of the few situations in town that he cares to fill is that of police-constable. Give him a life in the open air, however trying it may be, and he will be quite content if he can make enough to feed himself and family. If the fishing chance to be very profitable he does not, as a rule, think of saving the surplus he has made, but looks forward rather to a spell of idleness, when he can smoke his pipe and talk interminable long talks with his neighbours. No doubt this, judged by our own standard, is all very shocking. Why doesn't he put his money in the savings-bank, and by-and-by die and leave it to those who come after him? Simply because