138 THE BIRDS OF IONA AND MULL. 



But, after all, this bird will be found to be as beautiful a work 

 as any that Nature has turned of hand. Its shape and long neck 

 are far from inelegant. See it dive ! How gracefully it springs 

 clean out of the water, throws a somersault in the air, and dis- 

 appears head foremost into the blue depths ! Then the lovely 

 plumage of the Green Cormorant — a mixture of green and gold, 

 like the most gorgeous shot silk raiment, traversed by delicate 

 bands of rich velvet. Its beak is of gold, and its eyes living 

 emeralds. He also bears a plume upon his head as a mark of his 

 nobility. 



From this high cliff we look down upon the vast heavers of 

 the angered ocean, as they come rolling in with mighty sweep 

 and hurl themselves upon the iron-bound shore. All around is 

 milk-white foam and dreadful agitation. There, in the very midst 

 of this, what Byron would term " hell-broth," floats a black speck. 

 That is the Cormorant following its sport, where the stoutest 

 work of man's hand would be as a toy, where all his skill and 

 inventions could not gain a minute of life. Here comes a huge 

 wave ; its white crest already begins to curl over its swelling 

 bosom with a crashing sound ; now it gets steeper and steeper as 

 it rolls onward, till it rears up like a high green cliff overshadowing 

 a horrid abyss beneath. At the critical moment down goes the 

 Scart, and when the danger has gone past and the hurly-burly 

 has subsided, up he springs again into day, unconcernedly dis- 

 cussing a nice fresh young cod, which he had caught while taking 

 refuge in the bosom of the Great Mother. 



This plea for the Cormorant reminds me of a reply made by 

 a worthy old friend, who for half a century has ruled the glens 



