92 FRANCIS ORPEN MORRIS 



these farewell passages, and in giving a longer 

 description than usual he was evidently loth to quit 

 his well-loved themes. 



Let me quote a single paragraph from what he 

 so graphically says of the haunts of this tiny sea- 

 bird. After contrasting the northern winter with 

 the " blaze of glory of the sunny South/' he adds : 



" But on again, driven backwards and forwards 

 from one to the other, the lone and wandering sea- 

 bird travels, and now as it were borne on the wings 

 of the tempest, the gentle breeze of the hot climate 

 turned into the icy hurricane or tornado of the low 

 latitudes, the Stormy Petrel, whose name betokens 

 the habitual current of its life, nears the land, and 

 skirts and skims along the weather-worn cliffs of 

 the true Land's End. Wild is the scene on many 

 a winter's evening, each storm different from every 

 other that has gone before it, and yet one and all 

 alike. Here are low dense clouds laden with the 

 evening gale, and there lurid skies pregnant with 

 tempestuous blasts ; to seaward an endless desert 

 of water ; towards the shore, and breaking over the 

 watery waste, spray, foam, and air mingled as in one, 

 and over all the blackness of approaching night. 

 There is a brief lull, as if the tempest were taking 

 breath, and girding up its strength for a stronger 

 effort, and a frightful stillness prevails for a short 

 space, the sky scowls and blackens more angrily, 

 and low clouds whirl and wheel about in uncertain 

 eddies, all betokening a savage burst of the out- 

 poured fury of the elements ; but while other sea- 



