Scillonians have no lack of humour--that saving sense of humour which helps one over the roughnesses of life, little and big, and turns each tumble on life’s journey into an occasion for a smile at one’s own expense. There are no “yokels” or “boors” in Scilly, such as one meets in parts of rural England, who are rude or tongue-tied if one asks them a simple question. They have a delightful way here of saying “Please?” with a special intonation, if you say something to them which they do not quite hear or understand. It sounds very pretty from the little children. The children, on the whole, are quite charming and very friendly without being rude or troublesome. They used to crowd round sometimes when I was painting, but they never got in the way. Occasionally they would plant themselves in the middle distance under the impression that my eye was like a photographic lens, and that so long as they came within the field of vision they must infallibly appear in the picture! In the spring they make chains and garlands of daffodils and narcissi, with which they deck themselves: for to them these are the commonest of common flowers, and on a par with buttercups and daisies. Honesty may almost be taken for granted in the islands. Heath’s statement is still true: “There are no robbers, housebreakers, or highwaymen.” For there is no real poverty, and no one who has not got a character to lose. Once when visiting St. Agnes we were advised to leave our luggage by a lonely road-side while we went round to look for rooms. “We are all honest people on St. Agnes,” they told us, “so it will be quite safe.” And so it was. They have been accused by one or two writers of being grasping and exorbitant in their charges, and altogether too fond of money; but I can only say that I have never seen the slightest sign of this, and I have had strong evidence to the contrary. But I have been told that if you rub them up very much the wrong way they will take it out of you by raising their charges. [Illustration: DAFFODILS ON ST. MARTIN’S] “Neatness of dress,” says Woodley, “particularly on the Sabbath day, is in many instances carried to an extreme, especially amongst the younger females.” And he describes how those who on one day have been scrambling, shoeless and stockingless, over the rocks, gathering and drying ore-weed for kelp, may be seen on the next day dressed in white, with straw hats and flying ribbons. I have always thought that neatness of dress had no extreme, but represented the Aristotelian mean between slovenliness and excess of finery! So in my eyes this statement is one of unmixed praise. A local wag once made a hit at this excessive love of “neatness” by parodying the lines I have quoted above. He chalked up on the pier:-- “Scads and taties all the week And _a green veil_ on Sundays.”