The Zoologist — January, 1871. 2423 



length of wings, feet or legs. The smaller riuged plover, as far as one can 

 tell from stuffed specimens, has not the large round head and broad forehead 

 of the ordinary race ; the dark marlciugs on the head and breast are more 

 pure and sharply defined ; the whole of the upper surface of the plumage is 

 darker in tint; and the bird has altogether a brighter and more dapper 

 appearance. The outer tail-feathers, in all that I have seen, have a dusky 

 spot or two on the inner web, wliich is always white in the larger birds ; 

 the character of the beak appears much the same in both races, liaviug the 

 base of the upper and lower mandible yellow, which colour is permanent 

 after death, but although there is scarcely any difference in the size of the 

 legs and feet, the claws in the smaller birds are remarkably fine and long as 

 compared with those of the larger race." — P. 93. 



This is tlie right spirit of inquiry, and in a foot-note I observe 

 Mr. Stevenson has cautioned his readers against a pitfall into 

 which some have already fallen as regards this plover, and into 

 which others are so likely to fall, the mixing up of a third species, 

 the Charadrius minor, so admirably diflferentiated by Mr. Harting, 

 at p. 151 of his 'Birds of Middlesex,' 



And now I must cease for a time, hoping hereafter to return to 

 this fascinating book, which is without exception the most valuable 

 contribution to our knowledge of British Ornithology that it has 

 ever been my good fortune to peruse. 



Edward Newman, 



Bird Haunts of the Outer Hebrides. 

 By T. C. Walker, Esq, 



(Coutinued from Zool. S. S, 2171.) 



On issuing from the light-keeper's house next morning, the air is 

 filled with fog, which wreaths round the lighthouse as the gusts 

 from the Atlantic drift it up from the sea, and the damp and gloom 

 and cold seem more fitting for November than June : the cold and 

 fog have a very depressing effect on our spirits. Issuing from the 

 lighthouse and climbing to the edge of the precipice, the fog closes 

 round, shutting me out from the world ; the lighthouse close by is 

 invisible, and I am alone on the point of rock which bears the old 

 ruined fori, the stronghold of the brave old sea kings, who have 

 passed away like the mist from off the earth, while the old rocks 

 stand gaunt and grim with the battle of the tempest, ever the same. 

 Far, far below me the Atlantic is foaming and seething in the caves, 



