Mr. A, Newton on the Birds of Spitsbergen. 203 



those parts from which it had melted were in a state not very- 

 comfortable for walking upon^ the broad and gently sloping 

 undercliff being covered with soft mud several inches deep. I 

 had seen, in coming in, about a score of the large Geese which, 

 in 1855, my friends Messrs. Evans and Sturge had not suc- 

 ceeded in satisfactorily identifying (Ibis, 1859, pp. 171, 172), 

 and accordingly I sent Ludwig — Mr. Wolley^s Ludwig, who had 

 joined me in England the day before we sailed — close along the 

 shore to try and discover a nest of the species. I kept the 

 middle ground, while my other two companions made for the 

 base of the cliffs, with ardent hopes, which were not gratified, of 

 being able to ascend them. After we had all wandered about 

 for some hours, we foregathered on a low rocky ridge which ran 

 across the slope, to recount our adventures, or, as it unfortunately 

 happened in this case, the want of them. There was not much 

 excuse for expending powder and shot. I did not, however, 

 neglect the opportunity, which had never before occurred to me, 

 of securing some specimens of Fulmars without dropping them 

 in the water. On picking up one which fell on the dry land, I 

 was rather surprised to find its plumage tinged in several places 

 with a bright reddish-orange hue. I at first thought it was 

 stained by the oil which these birds, when killed, sometimes 

 discharge ; but I found subsequently that the effect so produced 

 was entirely different. This orange tint was very evanescent, 

 and had entirely disappeared from the only specimen on which 

 I observed it by the time I returned to this country. While eating 

 a frugal luncheon, I watched a hen Snow-Bunting to her nest, 

 from which, with a considerable amount of trouble, we at length 

 extracted four highly incubated eggs; and presently Ludwig 

 discovered another, containing six in a still worse state. But 

 though there was little ornithological spoil to be obtained here, the 

 scene was one most fascinating to an ornithologist. Never in 

 my life had I seen such myriads of birds (chiefly Rotches and 

 Bruennich's Guillemots) as those which throng the stupendous 

 peak of the Alkenhorn and the line of cliffs to which it forms 

 so grand a termination. Their cries, from these airy heights, 

 came upon the ear blended by the distance into one monotonous 

 murmur, like the sound of a rushing torrent, interrupted by the 



