Manby, in his "Voyage to Spitzbergen," relates several interesting examples of his ferocity and daring. Having perceived an ice-bear swimming in the sea, a boat went after him to cut him off; when suddenly the monster changed his route, faced the boat, and approached it, keeping up a continued growling, with other indications of rage, such as showing his frightful teeth, and elevating his head and much of his body out of the water. Being desirous to preserve the head, Manby let him come within twelve yards, when he fired a ball through his shoulder, which deprived him of the use of a fore-leg. Roaring hideously, the infuriated animal pressed towards the boat in the most ferocious manner, endeavouring to board or upset it, but failed from the loss of his leg. He was then attacked by the crew with lances, the thrusts of some of which he avoided with astonishing dexterity, and, in the most resolute manner, again made several attempts to reach the boat; but being repulsed by the overpowering thrust of a lance from the harpooner on his flank, he was unable longer to continue the contest. He had bitten a lance, in the heat of the combat, with such exasperated rage, as to break one of his long tusks; but finding his efforts fruitless, he retreated towards the ice, swimming most astonishingly fast, considering the great propelling power he had lost, and finally ascended it with great difficulty, having only one fore-paw to assist him, when, exhausted by the effort, he fell down dead, uttering a tremendous growl.

Captain Lewis, with a party of five hunters, attacked a bear, and when at a distance of forty yards, four of them fired, and each lodged a musket ball in its body, two of which passed directly through the lungs. The enraged animal ran at them with open mouth, and as it came near, the two men who had reserved their fire gave it two wounds, and broke its shoulder, which retarded its motion for a moment. But before they could reload, it was so near that they were obliged to run, and before they reached the shore the bear had almost overtaken them. Two jumped into the canoe, the other four separated, concealed themselves behind ice blocks, and firing as fast as they could load, struck the bear several times. But although eight balls had passed through its body, the bear pursued two of them so closely, that they were obliged to leap down a perpendicular bank of twenty feet into the water. The dying animal sprang after them, and was within a few feet of the hindermost, when his strength at last failed him.

Scoresby relates that in 1783, Captain Cook, of the Archangel, of Lynn, landed on the coast of Spitzbergen, accompanied by the surgeon and mate. While traversing the shore, the captain was unexpectedly attacked by a bear, which seized him in an instant between its paws. At this awful juncture, when a moment's pause must have been fatal to him, the unfortunate man called to his surgeon to fire, who immediately, with admirable resolution and steadiness, discharged his piece, and providentially shot the bear through the head, thus literally saving the master from the jaws of death.

"One evening," says Beechey, "we set on fire some sea-horse fat, in order to entice within reach of our muskets any bears that might be ranging the ice; as these animals possess a very keen scent, and are invariably attracted by burnt animal matter. About midnight we had the satisfaction of seeing one of them drag his huge carcass out of the water, and slowly make his way towards us. The sight of the tall masts of the ships appeared to alarm him a little at first, for he occasionally hesitated, threw up his head, and seemed half inclined to turn round and be off; but the agreeable odour of the burnt blubber was evidently so grateful to his olfactory nerves and empty stomach, that it overcame every repugnance, and gradually brought him within range of our muskets. On receiving the first shot he sprang round, uttered a terrific growl, and half raised himself upon his hind legs, as if in expectation of seizing the object that had caused him such excruciating pain; and woe to any human being who had at that moment been within reach of his merciless paws! The second and third ball left him writhing upon the ice, and the mate of the Dorothea jumped out of the vessel and endeavoured to despatch him with the butt end of a musket; but it unfortunately broke short off, and for a moment left him at the mercy of his formidable antagonist, who showed, by turning sharply upon his assailant, and seizing him by the thigh, that he was not yet mastered; and he would most certainly have inflicted a serious wound, had it not been for the prompt assistance of two or three of his shipmates who had followed him. The animal was by no means one of the largest of his species, being only six feet in length, and three feet four inches in height. His stomach was quite empty, with the exception of a garter, such as is used by Greenland sailors to tie up their boat stockings. In his left side there was a cicatrised wound of considerable magnitude. From what we saw of the activity and ferociousness of this animal, added to the well-known strength of his species, we readily gave credit to the accounts of Barentz and other early visitors to these regions; and it may be considered a fortunate circumstance for the hero of the Nile and Trafalgar that a natural barrier was interposed between him and the object of his chase, when in his youth he ventured alone over the ice in these regions in pursuit of such formidable game."

The ferocious white bear, the enemy and the dread of all other animals that come within its reach, is exceedingly tender and affectionate to its young, of which the following anecdote affords a striking and interesting example. While the "Carcase" was locked in the ice, early one morning the man at the mast-head gave notice that three bears were making their way very fast over the frozen ocean, and were directing their course towards the ship. They had no doubt been invited by the scent of some blubber of a sea-horse that the crew had killed a few days before, which had been set on fire; for they drew out of the flames a part of the flesh that remained unconsumed, and ate it voraciously. The crew from the ship threw great lumps of the flesh of the sea-horse, which they had still left, upon the ice, which the old bear fetched singly, laid every lump before her cubs as she brought it, and dividing it, gave to each a share, reserving but a small portion to herself. As she was fetching away the last piece, they levelled their muskets at the cubs and shot them both dead, and in her retreat they wounded the dam, but not mortally. It would have drawn tears of pity from any but unfeeling minds, to have marked the affectionate concern expressed by this poor beast in the dying moments of her expiring young. Though she was herself dreadfully wounded, and could but just crawl to the place where they lay, she carried the lump of flesh she had fetched away, as she had done others before, tore it in pieces, and laid it before them; and when she saw that they refused to eat, she laid her paws first upon one and then upon the other, and endeavoured to raise them up, piteously moaning all the while. When she found she could not stir them, she went off, and when she had got at some distance, looked back and moaned; and that not availing her to entice them away, she returned, and smelling round them, began to lick their wounds. She went off a second time as before, and having crawled a few paces, looked again behind her, and for some time stood moaning. But still her cubs not rising to follow her, she returned to them again, and with signs of inexpressible fondness, went round one and round the other, pawing them and moaning. Finding at last that they were cold and lifeless, she raised her head towards the ship, and uttered a growl of despair, which the murderers returned with a volley of musket balls. She fell between her cubs, and died licking their wounds.

The Sea-Otter is the last of the marine mammiferous animals that claim our attention. Although it is also found in the southern Pacific, yet its chief resort is in the Behring's Sea, along the chain of the Aleut Islands. It is but a small animal, yet its long-haired, beautifully fine and black fur, which is not seldom paid for with 400 or 500 rubles, renders it by far the most important product of those seas. It has even got an historical interest, since it has been the chief cause which led the Russians from Ochotzk to Kamtschatka, and from thence over the Aleut chain to the opposite coast of America.

The Aleut islanders show a wonderful dexterity in the capture of this animal. In April or May they assemble at an appointed spot in their light skin-boats, or baidars, and choose one of the most respected tamols, or chiefs, for the leader of the expedition, which generally numbers from fifty to a hundred boats. Such hunting-parties are annually organised from the Kurile Islands to Kadjack, and consequently extend over a line of three thousand miles. On the first fine day the expedition sets out, and proceeds to a distance of about forty wersts from the coast, when the baidars form into a long line, leaving an interval of about two hundred and fifty fathoms from boat to boat as far as a sea-otter diving out of the water can be seen; so that a row of thirty baidars occupies a space of from ten to twelve wersts. When the number of the boats is greater, the intervals are reduced. Every man now looks upon the sea with concentrated attention. Nothing escapes the penetrating eye of the Aleut; in the smallest black spot appearing but one moment over the surface of the waters, his experienced glance at once recognises a sea-otter. The baidar which first sees the animal, rows rapidly towards the place where the creature dived, and now the Aleut, holding his oar straight up in the air, remains motionless on the spot. Immediately the whole squadron is in motion, and the long straight line changes into a wide circle, the centre of which is occupied by the baidar with the raised oar. The otter not being able to remain long under water, re-appears, and the nearest Aleut immediately greets him with an arrow. This first attack is seldom mortal; very often the missile does not even reach its over-distant mark, and the sea-otter instantly disappears. Again the oar rises from the next baidar; again the circle forms, but this time narrower than at first; the fatigued otter is obliged to come oftener to the surface, arrows fly from all sides, and finally the animal, killed by a mortal shot, or exhausted by repeated wounds, falls to the share of the archer who has hit it nearest to the head. If several otters appear at the same time, the boats form as many rings, provided their number be sufficiently great. All these movements are executed with astonishing celerity and precision, and amidst the deepest silence, which is only interrupted from time to time by the hissing sound of the flying arrows.

CHAP. X.

SEA-BIRDS.

Countless are the birds of the wood and field, of the mountain and the plain; and yet it is doubtful whether they equal in number those of the fish-teeming seas. For every naked rock or surf-beaten cliff that rises over the immeasurable deserts of ocean, is the refuge of myriads of sea-birds; every coast, from the poles to the equator, is covered with their legions and far from land, their swarms hover over the solitudes of the deep. Many, unfit for swimming, seek their food along the shores; others rival the fishes in their own native element; and others, again, armed with indefatigable wings, pursue their prey upon the high seas. But, however different the mode of living and destination of the numerous tribes, families, genera, and species of the sea-birds may be, each of them is organised in the most perfect manner for the exigencies of its own peculiar sphere. Take, for instance, the Strand-birds, that live on the margin of ocean, and feast upon the molluscs and sea-worms, that inhabit the littoral zone. How admirably the light weight of their proportionally small body suits the soft, yielding soil on which they have to seek their food; how well their long legs are adapted for striding through the mud of the shallow waters; and their long bill and flexible neck, how beautifully formed for seizing their fugitive prey, ere it can bury itself deep enough in the safe mud or sand!

PENGUINS ON THE SOUTH POLAR ICE.

The wonderful art with which the feathered inhabitants of the grove construct their nests, we should in vain look for among the Strand-birds, but the anxiety they show in protecting their young brood, and the stratagems they use to divert the attention of the enemy, are after all instincts no less admirable than those which prompt the Cassique or the Tailor-bird to build their complicated dwellings. Thus on the approach of any person to its nest, the Lapwing flutters round his head with great inquietude, and if he persists in advancing, it will endeavour to draw him away by running along the ground as if lame, and thereby inviting pursuit. The Golden Plover also, when it sees an enemy—-man or dog—-approach, does not await their arrival, but advances to meet them. Then suddenly rising with a shrill cry, as if just disturbed from its nest, it flutters along the ground as if crippled, and entices them farther and farther from its young. The dogs, expecting to catch an easy prey, follow the lame bird, which suddenly, however, flies off with lightning speed, and leaves its disappointed pursuers on the beach. The discovery of the nest is rendered still more difficult by the colour and markings of the eggs assimilating so closely to that of the ground and surrounding herbage.

The Scoopers, Oyster-catchers, Avosets, and other strand-birds have recourse to similar stratagems for the protection of their young. In New Zealand, the French naturalists, Quoy and Gaimard, were deceived by an oyster-catcher, which, having been shot at, feigned to be wounded, and with hanging wing, diverted them from the right track.

The strand-birds of the high northern regions fly from the winter to coasts where milder winds are blowing. But as soon as the summer's sun begins to exert its power, the desert shores of the Arctic Ocean become animated with swarms of plovers, sand-pipers, rails, herons, and phalaropes, to whom the thawed strand opens its inexhaustible supplies. Soon, however, the approach of winter hardens once more the soil, want follows upon abundance, and the whole long-legged host hastens to abandon the ice-bound strand, which opposes an impenetrable armour to their beaks.

The food of the different kinds of strand-birds varies, and consequently their bills are variously formed. Those that live upon worms have generally a long thin awl-shaped bill, well fitted for picking their prey out of the soft muddy or sandy soil. If the small creatures conceal themselves under large stones, they are secure from these attacks; but then comes the Turn-stone, (Tringa interpres,) who with his bill, a little turned up at the top, raises the stone as with a lever, and makes sad havoc amongst the defenceless garrison.

The Sea-pie uses its wedge-shaped bill for opening shell-fish with great adroitness; but the industry of the Black Skimmer or Cut-water, (Rhynchops nigra,) is still more remarkable. The bill of this bird, which chiefly inhabits the hot coasts of America, is quite unique in its kind; the under mandible, which is in fact nothing but a wedge, being about an inch longer than the upper one, by which it is clasped. The sandy beach of Penco, says Lesson, is full of shell-fish, which remain nearly dry at low water in small pools. The skimmer keeps waiting close by until one of them opens its shell, when he immediately introduces his wedge. He then seizes the mussel, beats it to pieces upon the sand, and devours it with all the pleasure of an epicure eating an oyster. He is also very active in sweeping the surface of the water, from which he skims, as it were, the smaller fish or shrimps. Thus, on all flat sandy shores nothing exists, either soft or hard, creeping or swimming, jumping or running, that does not find among the strand-birds its peculiar and admirably armed enemy, or that can boast of a perfect immunity from hostile attacks.

If we examine the real sea-birds, such as are formed for indefatigable swimming or diving, or for wide flights over the deserts of ocean, we shall find them no less wonderfully organised than the winged dwellers on the strand. Their short compressed toes easily cleave the waters, and by means of their membranes or webs form, as it were, broad oars. Their muscular short legs, placed more behind than in other birds, are beautifully adapted for rowing, although their movements on land are awkward and slow. All creatures living on the sea of course require a thick waterproof mantle against weather and storm; and consequently we find the plumage of sea birds thicker, closer, and better furnished with down than that of the other feathered tribes. And finally, the gland which all birds have at the rump, and from which they express an oily matter to preserve their feathers moist, is most considerable among those that live upon the water, and contributes to make their plumage impermeable. Surely the sea bird has no right to complain of imperfect clothing or a deficient outfit!

The numerous members of the duck family, or the Anatidæ, mostly live during the summer in higher latitudes, and wander in winter in countless swarms towards sunnier regions; as, for instance, the Snow Goose and the Barnacle. Some remain throughout the year in Great Britain, some only during the winter; while others, which are more particularly birds of the Arctic zone, but very seldom make their appearance in our southern clime. Most Anatidæ prefer the lake, the river, the pond, or the morass; but many of them are true littoral birds, and spend a great part of their time swimming and fishing in the sea.

The Eider Duck, (Anas mollissima,) which attains nearly double the size of the common duck, inhabits the higher latitudes of Europe, Asia, and America. One of its most remarkable breeding places is on the small island of Vidoë near Reikiavik (Iceland), where it lives under the protection of the law; a person who should chance to kill a breeding bird having to pay a fine of thirty dollars.

"As our boat approached the shore," says Mackenzie, ("Voyage through Iceland,") "we came through a multitude of these beautiful birds, who hardly gave themselves the trouble to move out of the way. Between the landing place and the house of the old governor the ground was covered with them, and it was necessary to walk cautiously not to tread upon their nests. The ganders went about with a cackle resembling the cooing of a pigeon, and were even more familiar than our common duck. Round about the house, on the garden wall, on the roofs, even in the inside of the huts and the chapel, they sat breeding in great numbers. Those which had not been long upon their nest generally left it at our approach, but those which had more than one or two eggs remained undisturbed, allowed themselves to be handled, and sometimes even gently used their bills to remove our hand. The nests were lined with down, which the mother plucks from her own breast; and near at hand a sufficient quantity was piled up to cover the eggs when she goes to feed, which is generally at low water. The downs are twice removed, but sometimes the poor duck is obliged to provide for a fourth lining; and when she has no more to spare, the gander willingly deprives himself of part of his showy snow-white and rose-red garment. The eggs, which are considered a great delicacy, are also partially taken away. Our Vidoë friend used to send us two hundred at a time. When boiled, they are tolerably good, but always very inferior to those of our domestic hen. When taken from the nest, the downs are of course mixed with feathers and straw; and to sort and prepare them for sale is part of the winter employment of the women. One nest furnishes about a quarter of a pound of cleaned downs. The softness, lightness, and elasticity of these feathers is universally known. A few handfuls of compressed downs suffice to fill a whole coverlet, under which the northlander bids defiance to the strongest winter cold. Almost as soon as the young have left the egg, the mother conducts them to the water's edge, takes them on her back, and swims a few yards with them, when she dives, and leaves them on the surface to take care of themselves. As soon as they have thus acquired the art of swimming, the duck returns and becomes their leader. The broods often unite in great numbers, and remain some weeks quite wild, after which they disappear. Long before we left Iceland not a single duck was to be seen. No one knows to what parts they migrate. The bird is found on the Flannen Islands, to the west of Lewis; it is seen on the Shetland and Orkney Islands; it breeds on May Island, at the mouth of the Frith of Forth." Even on Heligoland the eider duck sometimes makes its appearance, but not to breed. The produce of the eider duck, either for personal use or as an article of trade, contributes to the comforts of many northern nations. The Esquimaux kill these birds with darts, pursuing them in their little boats, watching their course by the air bubbles when they dive, and always striking at them when they rise wearied to the surface. Their flesh is valued as food, and their skins are made into warm and comfortable under garments.

The Long-tailed Duck and the Sheldrake or Burrow Duck, (Anas glacialis tadorna), likewise inhabit the northern shores of Europe, Asia, and America. The former often remains the whole year in the high north, bidding defiance to the icy winter of the Arctic circle, and enjoying during the summer the light of an uninterrupted day. Often, however, it migrates to the south, and wanders from Greenland and Hudson's Bay as far as New York, and from Spitzbergen and Iceland to Heligoland and the Schleswig Islands. The duck likewise lines her nest with her downs. During the winter, the sheldrake is often seen in the west of England and in Ireland, where it is caught in nets. On Sylt, on the Danish coast, it is half domesticated, living in artificial burrows, and breeding even in the villages, on walls, and in earth holes. In a pleasant valley among the downs, which, although without trees, refreshed the eye with a verdant carpet variegated with flowers, Naumann, the celebrated German ornithologist, saw thousands of sheldrakes scattered in couples over the meads, so tame that they could be approached within twenty paces, when they flew up, but soon again alighted on the sward. He admired the construction of the artificial nests, often thirteen in one cavity, with a common entrance, and communicating by horizontal tunnels. Over every nest is a perpendicular opening, decked with a sod. On this being raised the duck is often seen sitting on her nest, so tame that it allows itself to be stroked. Every householder possesses several of these artificial burrows, from which he daily gathers during several weeks from twenty to thirty eggs, leaving six in each nest to be hatched. He also takes care to remove one half of the beautiful downs, which are no less light and valuable than those of the eider duck.

One of the most curious members of the duck family is the large Loggerheaded Duck or goose (Anas brachyptera) of the Falkland Islands, which sometimes weighs twenty-two pounds. It was formerly called, from its extraordinary manner of paddling and splashing upon the water, race-horse, but is now named, much more appropriately, steamer. Its wings are too small and weak to allow of flight, but by their aid, partly swimming and partly flapping the surface of the water, it moves very quickly. The manner is something like that by which the common house duck escapes when pursued by a dog; but Mr. Darwin, who often watched the bird, is nearly sure that the steamer moves its wings alternately, instead of both together, as in other birds. These clumsy logger-headed ducks make such a noise and splashing, that the effect is exceedingly curious. It is able to dive only a very short distance. It feeds entirely on shell-fish from the kelp and tidal rocks; and hence its beak and head, which it uses for the purpose of breaking them, are so surprisingly heavy and strong, that they can scarcely be fractured with a hammer.

Another remarkable inhabitant of the southern hemisphere is the Rock Goose, (Anas antarctica,) which exclusively inhabits rocky shores, and is often met with on the Falkland Islands, and on the west coast of America, as far north as Chili. In the deep and retired channels of Tierra del Fuego, the snow-white gander, invariably accompanied by his darker consort, and standing close by each other on some distant rocky point, is a common feature in the landscape.

The Mergansers differ chiefly from the sea-ducks, whom they otherwise closely resemble both in outward form and mode of life, by their comparatively long and slender bill, furnished with serrated edges and hooked at the extremity. All the British species are adorned with crests, or a tuft of long feathers, at the back of the head. The red-breasted merganser is a beautiful bird, painted with a variety of gay colours. "The head and throat are of a rich shining green, the neck white, except a narrow dark line behind; at either side before the wings are numerous large white feathers bordered by velvet-black; the lower part of the neck and breast is chestnut-brown, varied with dark streaks, and the body and wings are elegantly diversified with white, black, and brown feathers." (Harvey, Sea Side Book.)

The family of the Grebes and Divers approximates the duck tribe in the order of creation, but is distinguished by a long conical bill, and the position of the legs, which are placed so far back towards the tail, that when the bird leaves the water it is obliged to stand nearly erect to preserve its equilibrium. The foot in the grebes is only partially webbed, the toes being merely lobed or finned; but the divers are completely web-footed, like the duck. These latter do honour to their name, being most expert and indefatigable divers, remaining down sometimes for several minutes, and swimming rapidly under the water. The Red-throated Diver preys much on the fish entangled in the nets, but is often caught himself in his rapid pursuit of the fish; thus affording a strange example of a bird caught under water.

The Arctic Diver enjoys among the Norwegians the reputation of being a most excellent weather-prophet. When the skies are big with rain, the birds fly wildly about, and make the most horrible hoarse noise, fearing that the swelled waters should invade their nest; on the contrary, in fine weather, their note is different, and seemingly in an exulting strain. For this reason, the Norwegians, who, being mostly a maritime population, pay the greatest attention to the aspect of the sky, think it impious to destroy, or even to disturb, this species.

The family of Alcadæ, comprising the Guillemots, Auks, Razor Bills, and Puffins, is in form of body very similar to the Divers: the legs, which are short and thick, are inserted very far back, and give a still more erect carriage to the bird when on shore. The wings are short and small in proportion to the bulk of the body, and in the (now probably extinct) Great Auk, so much so as to be unfitted for flight. The Auks are strictly sea-birds, and nestle on its borders, breeding in caverns and rocky cliffs, and laying only one large egg. They obtain their food by diving, at which they are very expert. They are of social habits, and congregate in vast flocks on the rocky islets and head-lands of the northern coasts. At the head of the Magdalen Bay, on Spitzbergen, for instance, there is a high pyramidal mountain of granite, termed Rotge Hill, from the myriads of small birds of that name (Little Auk, Alca alce), which frequent its base, and which appear to prefer its environs to every other part of the harbour. They are so numerous that Admiral Beechey frequently saw an uninterrupted line of them extending full half-way over the bay, or to a distance of more than three miles, and so close together that thirty fell at one shot. This living column, on an average, might have been about six yards broad, and as many deep; so that allowing sixteen birds to a cubic yard, there must have been nearly four millions of birds on the wing at one time.

The calling or crying of the rotges amongst one another sounds at a distance as if you heard a great many women scolding together; so that the noise of millions uniting in a chorus must be terrific. On a fine summer's day, when a glorious sunshine gilds the snow peaks and glaciers of Spitzbergen, the merry cry of the little auk unites with that of the willocks, divers, cormorants, gulls, and other aquatic birds; and everywhere groups of walruses, basking in the sun, mingle their playful roar with the husky bark of the seal. It is pleasant to reflect that in those arctic wilds, uninhabitable by man, there are still millions of creatures enjoying life, all owing their support to the inexhaustible "garners" of the deep.

In the Penguins of the southern hemisphere, the shortness of wing and aptitude for swimming and diving are still more conspicuous than in the auks of the northern regions. In the water, the penguin makes use of its small featherless wing-stumps as paddles; on land, as fore feet, with whose help it scales so rapidly the grass-grown cliffs, as to be easily mistaken for a quadruped. When at sea, and fishing, it comes to the surface for the purpose of breathing, with such a spring, and dives again so instantaneously, that at first sight no one can be sure that it is not a fish leaping for sport. Other sea-birds generally keep part of their body out of the water while swimming; but this is not the case with the penguin, whose head alone appears upon the surface; and thus it swims with such rapidity and perseverance, as almost to defy many of the fishes to equal it. How much it feels itself at home on the waters, may be inferred from the fact that Sir James Ross once saw two penguins paddling away a thousand miles from the nearest land.

On many uninhabited islands in the higher latitudes of the southern hemisphere, this strange bird is met with in incredible numbers. On Possession Island, for instance, a desolate rock discovered by Sir James Ross in lat. 71° 56″, not the smallest appearance of vegetation could be found; but inconceivable myriads of penguins completely and densely covered the whole surface of the island, along the ledges of the precipices, and even to the summits of the hills, attacking vigorously the sailors as they waded through their ranks, and pecking at them with their sharp beaks, disputing possession, which, together with their loud coarse notes, and the insupportable stench from the deep bed of guano which had been forming for ages, made them glad to get away again. Sir James took possession of the island in the name of Queen Victoria; but unfortunately its treasures of manure are hidden beyond a far too formidable barrier of ice ever to be available to man.

Duperrey ("Voyage de la Coquille,") found the Falklands swarming with penguins. In summer and autumn these strange birds leave their burrows early in the morning, and launch into the sea for fishing. After having filled their capacious stomachs, they waddle on shore, and remain for a time congregated on the strand, raising a dreadful clamour; after which they retire to enjoy a noon-tide sleep among the high tussack grass or in their burrows. In the afternoon the fishing recommences. Lesson says that about sunset on fine summer evenings, which unfortunately are but of rare occurrence on those foggy, storm-visited islands, all the penguins together raise their discordant voices, so that at a distance the noise might be mistaken for the hoarse murmur of a great popular assembly. As soon as the young are sufficiently strong, the whole band leaves the island, departing no one knows whither, though the mariners frequenting those seas believe that they spend the winter on the ocean. This opinion seems to be corroborated by the observations of Sir James Ross, who, on the 4th of December, in 49° S. lat., met on the high sea a troop of penguins that were doubtless on the way to their breeding place. He admired the astonishing instinct of these creatures, half fish, half bird, which leads them hundreds of miles through the pathless ocean to their accustomed summer abodes.

It may be imagined how the neighbouring seas must abound with fish, to be able to nourish such multitudes of penguins, whose stomach is capable of holding more than two pounds, and whose voracity is so great that they are often obliged to disgorge their superabundant meal. The elongated stomach reaches to the lower part of the abdomen, and the whole length of the intestinal canal is twenty-five feet, fifteen times longer than the body, so that nature has evidently provided for a most vigorous appetite, whetted by sea-bathing and sea air.

There are several species of penguins. The largest (Aptenodytes antarctica) weighs about eighty pounds. It is a rare bird, generally found singly, while the smaller species always associate in vast numbers. In 77° S. lat., Sir James Ross caught three of these giant penguins, the smallest of which weighed fifty-seven pounds. In the stomach of one of them he found ten pounds of quartz, granite, and trap fragments, swallowed most likely to promote digestion.

The penguin, like his northern representative the auk, lays but one single egg. His not unsavoury flesh is black. Besides his dense plumage, he is protected against the cold of the higher latitudes by a thick cover of fat under his skin.

Humboldt's penguin (Spheniscus Humb.) is frequently found in the Bay of Callao. This bird is a little smaller than the common grey penguin, with a somewhat differently coloured back and breast. The Peruvians call it pajaro niño, "little darling bird," and keep it in their houses; it is very easily tamed, gets very familiar, and follows its master like a dog. The sight of the fat creature, awkwardly waddling about the streets on its short feet, and violently agitating its wing-stumps to maintain its equilibrium, is inexpressibly grotesque. Tschudi kept one of these tame penguins, which punctually obeyed his call. At dinner it regularly stood like a stiff footman behind his chair, and at night slept under his bed. When "Pepe" wanted a bath, he went into the kitchen and kept striking with his beak against an earthen jar, until some one came to pour water over him.

To the pelican tribe, which is generally distinguished by a surface of naked skin about the throat, capable of considerable dilatation, and serving as a pouch for the reception of unswallowed food, belong among others the Cormorant (Phalacrocorax), the Frigate-Bird (Tachypetes aquila), and the Gannet (Sula bassana), or Solan goose. All these birds are of much more active habits than the last named family, with bodies of more shapely form, more ample wings, and a stronger flight.

The common cormorant with his long bill, bent at the point, and furnished with a nail, his black livery, and yellowish chin-pouch, is a most disagreeable comrade. His smell, when alive, is more rank and offensive than that of any other bird, and his flesh is so disgusting, that it turns the stomach even of an Esquimaux. In spite of his voracity, he always remains thin and meagre, the picture of a hungry parasite. But fishing he understands remarkably well, and formerly used to be trained for this purpose in England, in the same manner as a nearly related species is to the present day employed in China. Mr. Fortune thus describes this original chase, which he witnessed on the Yellow River:—"There were two boats, each containing one man, and about ten or twelve birds. The latter stood perched on the sides of the boats, and seemed to have just arrived upon the scene of action. Their masters now commanded them to leave the boats; and so excellent was their training, that they instantly obeyed, scattered themselves over the canal, and began to look for prey. They have a splendid sea-green eye, and quick as lightning they see and dive upon the finny tribe, which, once caught in the sharp notched bill, finds escape impossible. As soon as a cormorant rises to the surface with his prey in his bill, his master calls him, when, docile as a dog, he swims to the boat and surrenders the fish, after which he again resumes his labours. And what is more wonderful still, when one of them has got hold of a fish so large as to be with difficulty dragged to the boat, the others come to his assistance, and by their united strength overpower the sprawling giant. Sometimes when a cormorant is lazy or playful, and seems to forget his business, the Chinaman strikes the water with a long bamboo near to the dreamer, and calls out to him in an angry tone. Immediately the bird, like a schoolboy caught nodding over his lesson, gives up his play, and returns to his duty. A small string is tied round the neck of the birds, for fear they might be tempted to swallow the fish themselves."

The frigate-bird hovers over the tropical waters. Its singularly easy and graceful flight affords all the charm of variety. Sometimes it is seen balanced in mid air, its wings spread, but apparently motionless, its long forked tail expanding and closing with a quick alternate motion, and its head turned inquisitively downwards; sometimes it wheels rapidly, and darts to the surface of the water in pursuit of prey; and then again it soars so as to be lost to vision, its elevation alone being sufficient to distinguish it from all other sea birds. Sometimes it is seen 400 leagues from land; and yet it is said to return every night to its solitary roost. Its expanded pinions measure from end to end fourteen feet, a prodigious extent of wings, equalling or even surpassing that of the condor, the lordly bird of the loftiest Andes. Being unable to swim or dive, it seizes the flying-fish, that, springing out of the water to avoid the jaws of the bonito, often falls a prey to the frigate-bird, or else it compels boobies or tropic birds to disgorge. On volcanic coasts it builds its nest in the crevices of the high cliffs, and on the low coral islands in the loftiest trees. In the Paumotu Group, Captain Wilkes saw whole groves covered with the nests of the frigate-bird. When the old birds flew away, they puffed up their red pouches to the size of a child's head, so that it looked as if a large bladder full of blood was attached to their neck.

The Gannet or Soland-goose (Sula Bassana) haunts the Bass Island, a high steep rock in the Frith of Forth, whose black precipices are painted with dazzling stripes of white guano, the product of the inconceivable number of birds which settle upon the weather-beaten ledges. The gannets incubate in the turf of the slopes above, and you may sit down by them and their great downy young while their mates hover over you with discordant screams and almost touch you with their outspread pinions. There is but one landing-place, and this sole entrance to the natural fastness is closed by a barred gate, proclaiming that man has taken possession of the rock. Some years ago it was let at an annual rent of thirty-five pounds. The eggs are not collected, and no old bird is allowed to be shot, under a penalty of five pounds; only the young birds are persecuted. The chase begins on the 1st of August. They are taken with the hand or knocked on the head with sticks, and sent to the Edinburgh market, where they fetch about half a crown a piece. The gannet breeds also on Lundy Island, in the Severn, on Ailsa, on the coast of Ayrshire, on the island of St. Kilda, and hardly anywhere else in Europe. As it must let itself fall before taking wing, it requires a steep and precipitous breeding-station. Its mode of fishing is particularly graceful. Rapidly skimming the surface of the sea, as soon as it spies a fish swimming below, it rises perpendicularly over the spot, and then, suddenly folding its wings, drops head-foremost on its prey swifter than an arrow, and with almost unerring aim. The prevalent colour of the full-plumaged bird is white, the tips of its wings only being black, and some black lines about the face, resembling eyebrows or spectacles. The pale yellow eyes are encircled with a naked skin of fine blue, the head and neck are buff colour, the legs black, and greenish on the fore part. The plumage of the young bird is very different, being blackish, dotted irregularly with small white specks.

The family of the Laridæ, which comprises the gulls, the sea-swallows, the petrels, and the albatrosses, is widely spread over the whole surface of the ocean. All the birds of this tribe have a powerful flight, and are distinguished by the easy grace of their motions, striking the air at long intervals with their wings, and generally gliding or soaring with outstretched pinions. Their form is handsome and well-proportioned, some of them resembling the swallow, others the dove; but their mode of life does not correspond with their beauty, as they are all ill-famed for their predatory habits and insatiable voracity. The cry of the sea-mew is peculiar, being a mixture of screaming and laughing. When in the solitude of a wild rocky coast it is heard mingling with the hoarse rolling of the surge and the moaning wind, it harmonises well with the character of the dreary scene, and produces a not unpleasing effect. It is amusing to witness the movements of the sea-mews at the mouths of the larger rivers, where they are seen in numbers, picking up the animal substances which are cast on shore, or come floating down with the ebbing tide. Such as are near the breakers will mount up the surface of the water, and run splashing towards the crest of the wave, to get hold of the object of their pursuit, while others are seen every now and then diving, and reappearing with a fish in their bill. Sometimes the more powerful sea-hawk interrupts their pleasure, pounces upon the robbers, and scatters the screaming band.

Many different species of gulls inhabit the northern shores, and various are the places which they choose for breeding. The Kittiwake or Tarrock (Larus tridactylus), one of the commonest sea-birds in Greenland, Iceland, the Feroës and the Scotch islands, builds its sea-weed nest on the highest and most inaccessible rocks. According to Faber (Prodromus of Icelandic Ornithology), its swarms are so numerous on Grimsoe, that they darken the sun when they fly, deafen the ear when they scream, and deck the green-capped rocks with a white covering when they breed.