LETTER XXI. 



153 



way as the Widgeon had done. A gallant little fellow — the 

 miniature drake — was in his bright new livery, his red head and 

 freckled grey back gleaming in the sunshine. However, on my 

 nearer approach, the vivacious little couple flitted away like a 

 dream, scarcely leaving a circling ripplet in the glassy mirror, 



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which this moment had borne, as well as reflected, the trig little 

 figures of the elfin pair. 



A few Eazor-bills are swimming and dipping about the loch ; 

 their long, rattling croaks, borne along the smooth water, sound 

 like a Punch and Judy having a conjugal difference. Ean du na 

 sqadain (the black herring birds), the Highland fisherman calls 

 them, in common with the Guillemot ; for when he sees them pour 

 out their vast multitudes along the western shores, speckling the 



