126 WILD LIFE UNDER THE EQUATOR. 
from land I have seen you, in your forlorn flight, look- 
ing in vain for the way that might lead to a land where 
your poor little bodies and tired wings and tiny little 
feet could find rest. The storm and the winds had car- 
ried you away from the land where you were accustomed 
to rejoice and sing, and taken you above that ocean on 
which you looked with such dread, and which is always 
ready to engulf you. You were so tired that you had 
not even the strength to utter your cries. How then I 
pitied you, for I thought of the days and sleepless nights 
you had spent over the vast sea! how weary those little 
wings of yours were! how painful must have been each 
effort you made to support you in the air. How sad 
must have been your thoughts, for you could see nothing 
to guide you to that place you longed to reach! 
I have seen you when the good ship was close at 
hand. How welcome its sight seemed to be to you, who 
had suffered so much from thirst, hunger, and starvation, 
fatigue and exhaustion! and, as I watched your coming, 
T could detect joy and fear; for how strange the vessel 
appeared to you, how strange its ropes, how strange its 
sails. 
When I have thought its masts and ropes would af- 
ford you rest, and seen you ready to reach them, you have 
dropped on the waves to rise no more. How you strug- 
gled before you came to this! You almost touched the 
water, when another effort would send you flying high 
above the sea; then again your flight became weaker; 
gradually you came down and made another frantic ef- 
fort to escape by flight. At last you seemed not to 
know any longer what you were doing, and despite all 
your valiant struggles for life your doom came, and you 
