THE POETIC SPIRIT 



183 



longer I watched them the more wonderful appeared 

 the difference in disposition between this one bird, 

 this white flying image of wrath, and the others. 



Now at intervals of about three or four minutes 

 my attention would wander from the gull to see and 

 listen to a rock-pipit that had its home at that spot 

 and was also nesting in a chink quite close to the 

 gullery. Every day and all day long, in all weathers, 

 the little singer could be seen and heard at that ex- 

 posed spot, soaring up at intervals to a height of a 

 couple of hundred yards ; then slowly falling back to 

 the rocks, head down, tail spread and wings pressed to 

 its sides with the quills standing out a shuttlecock 

 or miniature parachute in figure ; and while descend- 

 ing he emitted the series of airy tinkling sounds that 

 make his melody. And now, in spite of the late- 

 ness of the hour and increasing gloom on the sea 

 and clouded sky and of the cold wind, the little 

 creature would not desist from its flight and song. 

 Its little big passion was as strong and inexhaustible 

 as that of the enraged gull. Then occurred the in- 

 cident I set out to tell : the gulls with their prolonged 

 monotonous wailing cries were balanced in the air at 

 a height of ninety or a hundred yards, their trumpeter 

 and inspirer keeping in the centre of the scattered 

 company directly above my head. The pipit shot up 

 from the pile of rocks in which I was lying, and ris- 

 ing obliquely from the land side reached the highest 

 point of its flight well over the sea, and then just as 

 it set its feathers to begin its descent a furious gust of 

 wind caught and whirled it landwards, still emitting 



