Last month we had the unique experience of being serenaded by the Dundee trippers with a cornet solo, but the last Saturday of this month fairly eclipsed this performance. As we were about to sit down to tea we were somewhat startled to hear the regular beat of a drum and the unmistakeable music of the bagpipes. A hasty survey from the kitchen window sent us flying to the balcony, there to witness the novel sight of a ship, manned by boys--a training brig evidently, bound for Dundee. Bearing down upon us from the eastward, she approached close to the Tower, the tide being about full. Flag courtesies being exchanged, crowds of juvenile faces were seen lining the rail, while midships pipers discoursed some lively music, including the “Cock o’ the North.” The wind being light, the vessel made but little way, and as she slowly crossed the reef the youngsters lustily cheered us, which we returned as best we could. Breaking into song, the whole ship’s company favoured us with “Poor Cock Robin,” the youthful voices having a most pleasing effect in the stillness of a really beautiful summer’s evening. Applauding our loudest, cheers were again exchanged as she slowly drifted beyond our hearing, the whole scene strongly reminiscent of “H.M.S. Pinafore.” [2] Whale-louse. _SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1903._ The man that pours the water out has certainly been paying attention to his business, and in conjunction with the puffy bellower of storms favoured us with weather anything but peaceful. Unlike the farmers, we have little cause of complaint. No sodden fields or ruined crops appal the eye, for even after a “regular snorter” things here remain pretty much as they were. True, the aspect changes as the season advances. The whitewashed appearance of the rock surface in summer, due to the presence of the acorn barnacle, has now vanished--thanks to the voracity of the white whelk--and the rocks appear in their natural colour, a reddish-brown. The “sere and yellow” is well represented in the once luxuriant crops of heavy tangles, but lately swaying on the surface with a freshness and beauty peculiarly their own, now storm-tossed, frayed and abraded, denuded of their palm-like fronds, they appear but a vestige of their former selves. The turbulent state of the weather interferes seriously with our fishing, keeping the poddlies at a respectful distance from our door; indeed, any approach in our direction at present would certainly denote suicidal mania on their part. At a safe distance outside the breakers, they are to be seen playing on the surface in the early morning and evening, so that our expectations are still high should the weather but abate.