584 



A HISTORY OF 



ed by an angular knob on the lower chap ; 

 the petrels by their wanting this knob ; and 

 the sea-swallow by their bills, which are 

 straight, slender, and sharp-pointed. They 

 all, however, agree in their appetites, and 

 their places of abode. 



The gull, and all its varieties, is very well 

 known in every part of the kingdom. It is 

 seen with a slow-sailing flight, hovering over 

 rivers to prey upon the smaller kinds offish; 

 it is seen following the ploughman in fallow 

 fields to pick up insects ; and when living ani- 

 mal food does not offer, it has been known to 

 eat carrion, and whatever else of the kind that 

 offers. Gulls are found in great plenty in 

 every place ; but it is chiefly rqund our bold- 

 est rockiest shores that they are seen in the 

 greatest abundance; it is there that the gull 

 breeds and brings up its young; it is there 

 that millions of them are heard screaming 

 with discordant notes for months together. 



Those who have been much upon our coasts 

 know that there are two different kinds of 

 shores; that which slants down to the water 

 with a gentle declivity, and that which rises 

 with a precipitate boldness, and seems set as 

 a bulwark to repel the force of the invading 

 deeps. It is to such shores as these that the 

 whole tribe of the gull-kind resort, as the 

 rocks offer them a retreat for their young, 

 and the sea a sufficient supply. It is in the 

 cavities of these rocks, of which the shore is 

 composed, that the vast variety of sea-fowls 

 retire to breed in safety. The waves be- 

 neath, that continually beat at the base, often 

 wear the shore into an impending boldness; 

 so that it seems to jut out over the water, 

 while the raging of the sea makes the place 

 inaccessible from below. These are the si- 

 tuations to which sea-fowl chiefly resort, and 

 bring up their young in undisturbed security. 



Those who have never observed our bold- 

 est coasts, have no idea of their tremendous 

 sublimity. The boasted works of art, the 

 highest towers, an,d the noblest domes, are 

 but ant-hills when put in comparison : the 

 single cavity of a rock often exhibits a coping 

 higher than the ceiling of a Gothic Cathedral. 

 The face of the shore offers to the view a wall 

 of massive stone, ten times higher than our 

 tallest steeples. What should we think of a 

 precipice three quarters of a mile in height ? 



and yet the rocks of St. Kilda are still higher! 

 What must be our awe to approach the edge 

 of that impending height, and to look down 

 on the unfathomable vacuity below ; to pon- 

 der on the terrors of falling to the bottom, 

 where the waves that swell like mountains 

 are scarcely seen to curl on the surface, and 

 the roar of an ocean a thousand leagues broad 

 appears softer than the murmur of a brook ! 

 it is in these formidable mansions that my- 

 riads of sea-fowls are for ever seen sporting, 

 flying in security down the depth, half a mile 

 beneath the feet of the spectator. The crow 

 and the chough avoid those frightful precipi- 

 ces ; they choose smaller heights, where they 

 are less exposed to the tempest; it is the cor- 

 morant, the gannet, the tarrock, and the terne, 

 that venture to these dreadful retreats, and 

 claim an undisturbed possession. To the 

 spectator from above, those birds, though 

 some of them are above the size of an eagle, 

 seem scarcely as large as a swallow; and 

 their loudest screaming is scarcely percep- 

 tible. 



But the generality of our shores are not so 

 formidable. Though they may rise two hun- 

 dred fathoms above the surface, yet it often 

 happens that the water forsakes the shore at 

 the departure of the tide, and leaves a noble 

 and delightful walk for curiosity on the beach. 

 Not to mention the variety of shells with 

 which the sand is strewed, the lofty rocks that 

 hang over the spectator's head, and that seem 

 but just kept from falling, produce in him no 

 unpleasing gloom. If to this be added the 

 fluttering, the screaming, and the pursuits of 

 myriads of water-birds, all either intent on 

 the duties of incubation, or roused at the pre- 

 sence of a stranger, nothing can compose a 

 scene of more peculiar solemnity. To walk 

 along the shore when the tide is departed, or 

 to sit in the hollow of a rock when it is 

 come in, attentive to the various sounds that 

 gather on every side, above and below, may 

 raise the mind to its highest and noblest ex- 

 ertions. The solemn roar of the waves 

 swelling into and subsiding from the vast ca- 

 verns beneath, the piercing note of the gull, 

 the frequent chatter of the guillemot, the loud 

 note of the hawk, the scream of the heron, 

 and the hoarse deep periodical croaking of 

 the cormorant, all unite to furnish out the 



