Note 143 — Chapter XIII · TO EASTERN ICELAND—WE REACH MÝ-VATN.

Iceland does wisely to preserve her seals. Argyleshire in the olden time, and especially the holms south of Skye, were famed for them; now they are very wild and not likely to be caught basking on the rocks, or bathing in shallow water. Old bull seals, who may measure 5 feet 6 inches, are wary in the extreme, and seldom allow the use of the club. Phoca must also be hit on the head, or the hunter will see no more of him. In Greenland the packs have been almost killed out by the scores of vessels which Dundee and Peterhead, Norway and Sweden, Denmark and Germany, send every year, and it is reported that without a “close time,” the breed will become, like the oyster and the crab, almost extinct. San Francisco has been sensible enough to preserve the flocks of Proteus by the strong arm of the law—I wonder if grim old “Ben Butler” still tries to stare man out of countenance as he floats off the Ocean House.