A Wintry Dawn. 5 



the eye can scarcely trace its shadowy outline on the 

 sky. 



The sunlight brightens the low basaltic cliffs of the 

 islands, whitens the surf that beats about their feet, 

 glitters on the lighthouse windows like a phantom of 

 their midnight glare. 



The sea that was so cold and dark is shot with 

 green and purple, while the wet sand shines like a very 

 opal. Wandering sea-birds catch the light upon their 

 shining wings. The dark plumage of a solitary cor- 

 morant — as still as if carved out of the basalt on which 

 he stands, shines with added gloss as the sunlight 

 glances on his dusky wings. Just beyond him a flock 

 of pintails — the sea-pheasants of the fishermen, are 

 making for the shore, diving as they drift along. 

 Farther out a fleet of eider ducks ride lazily on the 

 heaving waves. 



There are few handsomer sea-fowl than the drake 

 eider, but his mate is sober enough in her dress of 

 brown. They breed yonder on the Fame Islands, but 

 this is their southern limit. Shy as they are now, they 

 lose their wildness altogether in the breeding season, 

 as if the touch of St. Cuthbert's kindly hand were still 

 a shield to them from harm. Other ducks too, 

 widgeon, and mallard, and scaup, sail along in clouds 

 far out at sea ; now dark against the sky, now brighten- 

 ing like gleams of silver as the light falls upon their 

 upturned wings. 



Along the rocks inshore there flies a hooded crow 



