SECOND JOURNEY 



CHAPTER I 



In the year 1816, two days before the vernal 

 equinox, I sailed from Liverpool for Pernam- 

 buco, in the southern hemisphere, on the coast of 

 Brazil. There is little at this time of the year in 

 the European part of the Atlantic to engage the 

 attention of the naturalist. As you go down the 

 Channel you see a few divers and gannets. The 

 middle-sized gulls, with a black spot at the end 

 of the wings, attend you a little way into the Bay 

 of Biscay. Wlien it blows a hard gale of wind 

 the stormy petrel makes its appearance. While 

 the sea runs mountains high, and every wave 

 threatens destruction to the labouring vessel this 

 little harbinger of storms is seen enjoying itself, 

 on rapid pinion, up and down the roaring billows. 

 When the storm is over it appears no more. It 

 is known to every English sailor by the name of 

 Mother Carey's Chicken. It must have been 

 hatched in bolus's cave, amongst a clutch of 

 squalls and tempests; for whenever they get out 

 upon the ocean it always contrives to be of the 

 party. 



Though the calms and storms, and adverse 

 winds in these latitudes are vexatious, still, when 

 you reach the trade winds you are amply repaid 

 for all disappointments and inconveniences. The 



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