isles that Shakespeare had his eye on the
soil of Shetland when he pronounced the famous line:

"'Tis true, 'tis _peaty_, 'tis _peaty_ 'tis, 'tis true."

On all sides in the country you see acre after acre of bog, dripping
with moisture and exuding black runnels whenever the spade of the
peat-cutter begins to slice its fibrous bulk. Should a wayfarer leave
the road by mishap after nightfall, he would soon be plunging in the
treacherous morasses. It is well for him to have a lantern swinging at
his girdle when the sun has gone down.

Such are the reflections suggested by a view of the country between
Lerwick and the little clachan of Quarff.

QUARFF.

Quarff is the headquarters of a minister who is said to be the only
extempore preacher in Shetland, if the word can be appropriately applied
to one who, being blind, has to prepare his sermons in "the quick forge
and working-house of thought" without the succour of books. This
gentleman spent long years in the little islets called _Skerries_, and,
like a miniature Augustine or Columba, claims to have been the first to
preach the sublime truths of Christianity on these limestone formations.

Though blind, he enjoys his pipe, and I had a smoke with him at the
fireside. Between the puffs, he indulged in a furious onslaught on the
Lord Chancellor and the Wee Frees. Lord Halsbury he considered a poor,
benighted creature, who didn't know the difference between a Trades
Union and a body of Christians. "_If he ever comes to Shetland_," said
the minister, "_he had better bring his woolsack with him, for I won't
let him down soft!_" After Lord Halsbury had been adequately trounced,
the talk turned on notable things that had happened in the district
within the last decade or two. One of the tales (which was very
divertingly told) had to do with the trite subject of intemperance, but
as it contains one or two novel touches, I here briefly rehearse it.

An elder of the place, who, with his trap, had come to grief one market
night on the way back from Lerwick, told his session a strange tale to
account for the catastrophe. "When I got to Lerwick in the forenoon, I
said to the driver: 'Young man, if I mistake not, you have had no tip
from me for a long time.' 'That's very true, sir,' said he. 'Well,' said
I, 'there's half-a-crown; go and spend it judiciously.' During the day I
transacted business with various friends, omitting none of the usual
rites. About five o'clock my d