THE ALBATROSS. 



God save thee, Ancient Mariner, 



From the fiends that plague thee thus! 

 Why looks thou so ? "With my cross-bow 



I shot the Albatross." 



— Coleridge. 



" Cap'n Robbins, I beg you, don't! " 



"Don't—?" 



"Don't kill the albatross." 



"And, pray, why shouldn't I ? " 



" Because," said the mate of the Thomas Pope, 

 " it's well known, sir, that terrible consequences 

 follow the murder of one of those white birds. I 

 say murder — for I can tell you, sir, it's nothing 

 less. Haven't you heard that the souls of dead 

 bo's'ns and sailors go soaring about in these 

 latitudes in the form of albatrosses ? " 



" Why, no,'' I answered, " You see I never 

 lived in the fo'c's'le, Mr. Russell. My first voyage 

 I shipped as cabin-boy, and my second voyage I 

 went as third mate in the old Balaena. So, you 

 see, I never got much acquainted with the fo'c's'le 

 superstitions." 



"What!" Russell exclaimed, "has no one 

 ever told you how dangerous it is to kill an 

 albatross ? " 



