260 THE BASS ROCK. 



appearance no bigger than blackbirds, were peering over 

 the side. I could scarcely believe they were not jackdaws. 

 The Peregrine falcon had also built outside the tower, and 

 was wheeling aloft in company with the geese. I pointed 

 him out as a sparrow-hawk, and was equally astonished 

 when assured by the old boatman that he was " the blue 

 hunting hawk." His nest was afterwards harried by a 

 boat's crew from North Berwick, who came for the purpose 

 in the night. Well did I know the peregrine, and had 

 often admired his graceful bearing among his native hills. 

 The sable tenant of desolation was an equally familiar 

 acquaintance ; and that I should have so strangely mis- 

 taken both, was sufficient proof of the vast height to which 

 I looked. 



Intending to shoot some specimens, I had brought my 

 duck gun, and, at the first shot, killed a puffin or sea 

 parrot, called a Tommy Norie by the old sailor in com- 

 mand of our craft. These pretty birds are very shy, 

 although a good many haunt the landing bay. They 

 always lay their one egg out of sight, and never upon the 

 ledges of the rock. One or two were hatching in the 

 holes of the prison where our fearless Reformer was con- 

 fined ; when peeping out with their quaint bills, they 

 had an ancient look that reminded one of sturdy John, 

 with his slouched hat, looking out of his loophole 

 window. 



The razor-bills are now scarce on the rock ; they are 

 more retired in their habits, and apt to conceal themselves 

 in the clefts. I was fortunate in getting a chance at a very 



