28 LLANDDWYN 



it maintained itself by paddling with its wings, it 

 canted so much to one side that it had to strain its 

 neck round to save itself from being drowned. 



It is only when one comes to carry a Guillemot, 

 and to note closely how little of its bulk is made up 

 of its close, fine plumage (that of the head and neck 

 is as smooth and fine as silk), that one realises how 

 heavy a body its small wings have to support and 

 propel. 



It was a mature bird, remarkably tame, and quite 

 content to be held in arms, though resenting any 

 attempt to touch its head by a rapid stroke of its 

 great, jag-edged bill. It was indeed a fine-looking 

 creature, with something of swan-like dignity in the 

 bearing of head and neck, but, if I can make myself 

 intelligible in saying so, with a strangely impene- 

 trable eye. 



There are some eyes the expression of which one 

 grasps at once, feeling that one has understood ; the 

 leer of an alligator, the still cat's-eye of a snake, a 

 parrot's eye with its quickly contracting and dilating 

 pupil, the eye of a horse, a dog, a hawk. There are 

 others, like those of sheep, as meaningless as they 

 are beautiful. Others again that, whilst full of 

 expression, leave one looking into them as into a 

 dark place ; for they seem to express something for 

 which one has not the clue or symbol. Of these 

 last is the eye of the Guillemot, rendered stranger by 

 the peculiar little curtain of skin that is drawn 

 forward over a portion of the eyeball. 



Having kept the bird in some comfort overnight, 

 I placed it on the sea the following morning, where 

 it paddled out with seeming gladness into the open 



