THE CORMORANT. 165 
countless thousands from Flamborough Head to 
Bempton, should shun the Raincliff, which, appa- 
rently, differs in nothing but height from the other 
parts of this bold and rocky shore. 
I am positive that we have not two species of 
cormorant in Great Britain. The crested cormorant, 
with a white spot on each thigh, is merely the com- 
mon cormorant in his nuptial dress. This is not 
the only bird which becomes highly ornamented 
during the breeding season. On some future day, 
when the storms of winter forbid all access to the 
fields, and condemn me to the dull monotony of life 
within doors, I may possibly take up the pen, and 
write down a few remarks upon the change of 
plumage in birds. 
The flesh of the cormorant possesses no flavour 
that would suit the palate of our modern epicures. 
Hence it is despised by aldermen, and, of course, 
never served up at a Lord Mayor of London’s feast. 
On the sea coast, this poor bird is shot at by marks- 
men through mere wanton pastime; and when he 
takes a flight inland, he runs great risk of never 
getting back again to sea; for nobody will befriend 
him, on account of his well-known inclination to 
make too free with the contents of well-stored fish- 
ponds. + Still, for my own part, I love to see him 
come this way. Stay here, poor wandering mariner, 
as long as it pleases thee to do so. The sight of 
thee puts me in mind of the happy hours I spent in 
reading the Metamorphoses at the Jesuits’ College. 
Well do I remember how beautifully the poet tells 
thy affecting story, before thou wert reduced to the 
M 3 
