190 THE STORMY PETREL. 



only one place, the Isle of Sky, that it haunts even 

 for this short period. It is a creature 



that roams on her sea-wing, 



Unfatigued, and ever sleeps, 

 Calm, upon the toiling deeps. 



It is a pretty good manifestation of the strength 

 and extent of that hurricane, which could catch up 

 a bird with a wing so powerful as to enable it to 

 riot in the whirlwind and enjoy the storm, and 

 bear it away irresistibly, perhaps, from the Atlantic 

 waves, over such a space of land and ocean, and 

 then dash it down on a rather elevated common in 

 this parish, whence it was brought to me in a very 

 perfect state. This little creature, scarcely as big 

 again as a swallow, and the smallest of all our 

 web-footed birds, has, like all the others of its 

 genus, that extraordinary tube on its upper man- 

 dible, through which it spirts out an oily matter 

 when irritated ; but the real object of this singular 

 provision seems unknown. Our seamen amuse 

 themselves during the monotony of a voyage with 

 the vagaries of " Mother Gary's chickens," as they 

 have from very early times called this bird. The 

 petrels seem to repose in a common breeze, but 

 upon the approach, or during the continuation, of 

 a gale, they surround a ship, and catch up the 

 small animals which the agitated ocean brings near 

 the surface, or any food that may be dropped from 

 the vessel. Whisking with the celerity of an 

 arrow through the deep valleys of the abyss, and 



