12 Murphy, A New Petrel. [f^, 



father, he is not nearly so strong as he was," and my old friend 

 passed out of my sight on earth forever. A few more years were to 

 pass swiftly by, and the summons came to cease all earthly labor. 

 The energetic toiler was still arrayed in the panoply of work, which 

 he had carried so well over such a long series of years, his faith had 

 not abated, nor his courage failed, and he still grasped in his aged 

 hands, his familiar weapons the pen and the book, which he had 

 wielded so long and so effectively. But the time had come when 

 he was to "cease from his labors, and his works were to follow him." 

 The day was drawing to its close in the beautiful month of June, 

 and peace like a blessing from another world, seemed to hover over 

 the land, and Nature rejoiced in her smiling fields, and the opened 

 buds and blossoms; the sun was slowly sinking to its rest 

 behind the western hills, flooding the fleecy clouds floating in the 

 blue vault above with crimson and with gold; from the east, the 

 shadow of the coming night was creeping slowly, slowly onward, 

 casting a pall over the valleys; the evening breeze with its soft 

 breath was playing among the leaves, and calling forth the perfume 

 of the flowers, and the nightingales, in their own fair land-, chief 

 minstrels of the feathered choir, had sounded in one great burst 

 of melody, the opening chords of the vesper hymn, — when there 

 came to our friend, waiting, ever waiting, the murmur of softly 

 moving wings heralding the presence of the "Beautiful Angel," 

 who gently led him out of his earthly mansion, just across the 

 threshold, to the bright land beyond. 



PRELIMINARY DESCRIPTION OF A NEW PETREL. 



BY ROBERT CUSHMAN MURPHY. 



Plate 11. 



On the return voyage of the recent expedition to the island of 

 South Georgia conducted by the American Museum of Natural 

 History and the Museum of The Brooklyn Institute of Arts and 



