THE STORMY PETREL. 195 



only one place, the Isle of Sky, that it haunts even 

 for this short period. It is a creature 



" that roams on her sea- wing, 



Unfatigued, and ever sleeps, 

 Calm, upon the toiling deeps." 



It is a pretty good manifestation of the strength 

 and extent of that hurricane, which could catch up 

 a bird with a wing so powerful as to enable it to 

 riot in the whirlwind and enjoy the storm, and 

 bear it away irresistibly, perhaps, from the Atlantic 

 waves, over such a space of land and ocean, and 

 then dash it down on a rather elevated common in 

 this parish, whence it was brought to me in a very 

 perfect state. This little creature, scarcely as big 

 again as a swallow, and the smallest of all our web- 

 footed birds, has, like all the others of its genus, 

 that extraordinary tube on its upper mandible, 

 through which it spirts out an oily matter when 

 irritated ; but the real object of this singular pro- 

 vision seems unknown. Our seamen amuse them- 

 selves during the monotony of a voyage with the 

 vagaries of " mother Gary's chickens," as they have 

 from very early times called this bird. The petrels 

 seem to repose in a common breeze, but upon the 

 approach, or during the continuation, of. a gale, 

 they surround a ship, and catch up the small ani- 

 mals which the agitated ocean brings near the sur- 

 face, or any food that may be dropped from the 

 vessel. Whisking with the celerity of an arrow 



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