Woodley most unreasonably accuses them of curiosity, but what respect should we have for the members of any small community who did not take a friendly interest in each other’s concerns? I am quite sure that by the time Woodley had finished collecting material for his book of 338 pages he must himself have acquired a terrible character for asking questions! The desire for local bits of news must have been very much fostered in the islands by the difficulty there used to be in obtaining any from the outside world. It is said that Queen Elizabeth had ascended the throne for several months before the news of the death of Queen Mary arrived in Scilly! Nowadays the telegraph keeps them well in touch with everything that is going on, and acquaints them with the state of the markets for their produce. I think the most prominent trait in the Scillonian character is a cheerful kindliness of disposition, which makes the visitor feel on his first arrival he is welcome, and soon makes him feel quite at home. This kindliness is shown in many little ways, even when there would be much excuse for contrary behaviour. A visitor and his wife were once trying to scale a stone hedge--with no evil intent, but all the same it was trespassing. An islander who was working in the field, instead of stopping them, offered to take off the top stones of the wall, “to make it easier for the lady,” and to replace them when they were safely over. That is true Scillonian courtesy! I have seen a tourist rush with his camera through a field of daffodils, crying to the owner and his men, “Please keep on picking and take no notice of me!” And they have done it, when anywhere else he would have been requested, either politely or forcibly, to keep to the footpath. Another characteristic is the delightful Celtic leisureliness. One kindly housewife only voiced the general feeling when she said, “Where’s the need of hurry? What is not done to-day will be done to-morrow.” We had sought shelter in her cottage from the torrents of rain and were terribly interrupting her spring-cleaning; yet she not only insisted on drying our clothes, but came and entertained us in her best parlour with stories of the wrecks, and soothed our scruples with the words I have quoted. An American girl-visitor once noticed this trait. “You haven’t learnt to hustle here,” said she to her boatman. “If the islands belonged to _us_ we’d soon make things spin.” “Could you hustle the tide in and out?” was the quietly humorous retort. “Or could you hustle the fish into the nets, and the lobsters into the pots?” And what a blessing it is that Nature cannot be hustled, but will take her own time over her own work, however much money-grubbing man may try to hurry her up: it is but little he can do, with all his forcing-houses and schemes for premature development! * * * * *