CYPSELUS MURARIUS. 213 



tooth of time, as well as the impotent bill of the screaming swift. 

 In my boyhood it was called the " Merlin," or " Deviling," 

 from some old superstition. Its wonderful speed is caused by 

 quick beats of its long, narrow wings, then gliding through the 

 air while its extended wings seem motionless. It shoots along, 

 turns and flutters, ascends, comes down, curves and winds, and 

 darts screaming amongst its companions, and is lost to view. 

 The ease with which it rises, falls, or glides in curves, or 

 abruptly stops in its full career is marvellous, and it is only 

 familiarity or carelessness of observation which lessens the 

 perfection of its evolutions. In fine weather they search the 

 air for insects on tireless wing, nor does rain deter them from 

 the pursuit. Even in heavy thunder showers they may be 

 seen gliding and wheeling ; and in dull, drizzly weather, when 

 swallows have disappeared, they pursue their avocation, 

 although it is singular how the insects exist in such weather. 

 On the 3rd of June 1888 it had rained all day, and was very 

 stormy, when at eight o'clock at night (still raining) I noted 

 that they flew and dashed under the projecting moulding of a 

 large new house at the Scaurs, and one by one clung close 

 together to the wall like bats for about two minutes, then off 

 again. I heard their wings clap against the wall before they 

 clung, and made a dirrling sound with their wings, as if in the 

 very height of excitement in the electric state of the air. It could 

 not be flies they sought when clinging to that house, nor nest- 

 ing-places, as the house was new. On the 19th of July 1892 

 I also noted that in gales of wind swifts press against the wind 

 to keep them from blowing to leeward by holding their wings 

 half bent downwards like a bow. This was at three o'clock 

 p.m. in a North-East gale, with rain. About seven o'clock in 

 the evening of the 4th of July I observed about a score of them 

 sailing slowly like the kite about 300 feet up, gliding back and 

 forward in a radius of about 300 yards in a slight breeze, which 

 shows that they can adapt their flight to all states of the 

 weather where flies are, for on going round by the harbour and 

 up the pends the same evening I saw others flying quite low 

 under the plane-trees at the Priory. In the long days of June 

 and other summer months they are on the wing all day, more 

 or less, from half-past two in the morning till ten o'clock at 

 night. At a quarter to ten on the 29th of June 1892 — a fine 

 night — I stood opposite the old Castle and watched them flying 

 into their nests — some of the holes so small at the entrance 

 that they had to edge in sideways. It was so dusky that I 



