IN THE NORTH ATLANTIC 47 



strayed beings from the surplus food of the ocean. All — all is 

 wonderfully grand, wild — aye, and terrific. And yet how beau- 

 tiful it is now, when one sees the wild bee, moving from one 

 flower to another in search of food, which doubtless is as sweet 

 to it, as the essence of the magnolia is to those of favored 

 Louisiana. The little Ring Plover rearing its delicate and ten- 

 der young, the Eider Duck swimming man-of-war-like amid 

 her floating brood, like the guardship of a most valuable con- 

 voy ; the White-crowned Bunting's sonorous note reaching the 

 ear ever and anon ; the crowds of sea-birds in search of places 

 wherein to repose or to feed: how beautiful is all this in this 

 wonderful rocky desert at this season, the beginning of July, 

 compared with the horrid blasts of winter which here pre- 

 dominate by the will of God, when every rock is rendered smooth 

 with snows so deep that every step the traveller takes is as 

 if entering into his grave; for even should he escape an ava- 

 lanche, his eye dreads to search the horizon, for full well does 

 he know that snow, — snow, is all that can be seen. I watched 

 the Ring Plover for some time; the parents were so intent on 

 saving their young that they both lay on the rocks as if shot, 

 quivering their wings and dragging their bodies as if quite 

 disabled. We left them and their young to the care of the 

 Creator. I would not have shot one of the old ones, or taken 

 one of the young for any consideration, and I was glad my 

 young men were as forbearing. 



On the 6th of July he wrote : 19 



By dint of hard work and rising at three, I have drawn a 

 Colytnbus septemtrionalis [Great Northern Diver] and a 

 young one, and nearly finished a Ptarmigan ; this afternoon, 

 however, at half-past five, my fingers could no longer hold my 

 pencil, and I was forced to abandon my work and go ashore 

 for exercise. The fact is that I am growing old too fast ; alas ! 

 I feel it, — and yet work I will, and may God grant me life to 

 see the last plate of my mammoth work finished. 



19 Ibid., p. 390. 



