OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 55 



the reverse direction. Mr. A. A. Eaton, of Seabrook, writes 

 me that one day in October, a few years since, as he lay off 

 shore in a boat, great numbers of small birds, mostly Myrtle 

 Warblers, were noted coming in from the northeast, as if cross- 

 ing from the Maine coast, and the beach itself was swarming 

 with them. This day was clear, but a storm arose during the 

 following night. Capt. H. L. Spinney ('98) in an interesting 

 account of the migrations at Seguin Island, off the mouth of 

 the Kennebec River, Maine, states his belief that many of these 

 small birds are actually blown out to sea, and struggle back to 

 land as opportunity allows. He says, " I have been out many 

 mornings in a boat some half a mile or more from the island, 

 waiting for the ducks to come to my decoys, when the day be- 

 fore and during the night the wind had blown very strong from 

 the north or northwest, and about sunrise the small birds would 

 begin to fly in from sea in numbers, from one to three or four in 

 sight at one time. This they would continue to do until noon. 

 Many of them would be seen to drop in the water so exhausted 

 that even when within a few yards of the island they would 

 have to succumb ; others would just reach the shore at the edge 



of the water Although I have seen many of them 



drop in the water, I have seen but one rise out of it. This was 

 a sparrow, which, rising three times in succession, finally 

 reached the island." 



At the Isles of Shoals, Mrs.' Thaxter observes that "the 



lighthouse ...... is the destroyer of birds The 



keeper living at the island three years ago told me that he 

 picked up three hundred .and seventy-five in one morning at the 

 foot of the lighthouse, all dead. They fly with such force 

 against the glass that their beaks are often splintered. The 

 keeper said he found the destruction greatest in hazy weather 

 and he thought ' they struck a ray at a great distance and 

 followed it up.' Many a May morning have I w r andered about 

 the rock at the foot of the tower, mourning over a little apron 

 brimful of sparrows, swallows, thrushes, robins, fire- winged 

 blackbirds, many-colored warblers and flycatchers, beautifully 



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