92 ORNITHOLOGICAL RAMBLES. 



heavenly, in the spectacle. And thus it is, I have no 

 doubt, that human imagination affixes wings to the 

 angels, the messengers of Heaven, fleeting on their 

 errands of wrath or glory, or beating upwards the souls 

 of the departed. Moreover, every action of these pro- 

 pelling membra the folding arid closing of them ; the 

 fanning of, and nestling under, wings is beautiful 

 and soothing, both in reality and by metaphor. Even 

 these very birds, resting upon the most tempestuous 

 seas, and haunting these narrow and dangerous straits, 

 have been accounted by the sailors of these northern 

 latitudes, spirits of pernicious omen : 



" The black'ning wave is edged with white; 



To inch and rock the sea-mews fly : 

 The fishers have heard the water- sprite, 

 Whose screams forbode that wreck is nigh." 



Lay of the Last Minstrel. 



We had not long left the Holm skerrie, picking up 

 fresh speed with every gentle gust; I was leaning 

 lazily on the gunwale, descanting on the merits of the 

 day, or discussing the points of difference or resem- 

 blance between the various birds that met our gaze ; 

 when, just as we were shifting on the starboard tack, 

 and bringing up her head to the wind, a lesser black- 

 backed gull (Larus fuscus), which I had for some time 

 been steadily watching, approached so near, in one of 

 his long, easy, characteristic sweeps, that I gave him 

 the contents of my cartridge-barrel at a venture. I 



