MopERN CLIFF-DWELLERS 
paddled around close to the stern of the sloop in the 
characteristic attitude of this class of birds, breast 
well down in the water and rump considerably 
elevated, I thought of them as miniatures of the 
ancient ships that Virgil wrote about, with their 
““lotty ‘stemns.; I, used. this) opportunity to try: to 
discover some of the “ Common’ Murres among 
this horde of Brunnich’s, but did not see a single 
specimen that 1 could recognize as such. This 
seems to be the universal experience of observers, 
and now, despite the older accounts, it is questioned 
whether the “Common” Murre is ever found as 
far south as Massachusetts. 
One special treat was in store for me. While I 
was fishing, happening to glance “to the nor’ard,”’ 
I saw a very small bird skimming like a bullet low 
over the sea, making directly for the boat. It 
passed close by on tiny, quick-beating wings, and, 
giving me only this brief, precious glimpse, speedily 
disappeared to the southward. It was no less dis- 
tinguished a personage than the Dovekie, or Little 
Auk, the only one that in all my winter ocean 
wanderings I have ever seen alive. 
Next “day,-.celebrating, the New Year, I ‘was 
wandering along the grim, icy beach along the 
“back side of the Cape,” watching the birds and 
the breakers. The bedraggled carcass of a Razor- 
bill brought to mind the thought of the terrible 
winter storms that destroy these poor creatures by 
the thousands. It is well known that they are 
sometimes blown inland, to perish in the snowdrifts. 
One of my early recollections is of a Puffin being 
found in Jamaica Pond, Boston, after such a storm. 
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