10 ORNITHOLOGICAL RAMBLES. 



sea-weed, with my long cluck-gun and a trusty 

 double, or half buried in a hole in the sand, 

 I used to watch the legions of water-birds as 

 they neared the shore, and dropped distrustfully 

 among the breakers, at a distance from the de- 

 sired haven, until, gaining confidence from acces- 

 sion of numbers, some of the bolder spirits — the 

 pioneers of the army — would flap their wings, 

 rise from the white waves, and make for the calm 

 water. Here they come! I can see the pied 

 golden-eye pre-eminent among the advancing 

 party ; now the pochard, with his copper-coloured 

 head and neck, may be distinguished from the 

 darker scaup-duck; already the finger is on the 

 trigger, when, perhaps, they suddenly veer to the 

 right and left, far beyond the reach of my longest 

 barrel, or, it may be, come swishing overhead, 

 and leave a companion or two struggling on the 

 shingle, or floating on the shallow waters of the 

 harbour. - 



But my recollections of this favoured spot 

 have induced me to dwell too long on its attrac- 

 tions. I shall have occasion, however, to refer to 

 it hereafter, as a locality where many rare birds 

 have been obtained. 



A long line of chalk cliffs extends to the east- 

 ward of Brighton as far as Beachy Head, which 

 is the highest of all, and the country in the neigh- 



