A New World 



that?" we cried when this startling visitor first 

 announced himself. "What do you call it?" 



"Why, it's telling you its name," said the 

 Yankee. "Don't you hear it and what he 

 wants you to do? He says his name is 'Poor 

 Will* and he wants you to whip him, and you 

 may if you are able to catch him." Poor Will 

 seemed the most wonderful of all the strange 

 creatures we had seen. What a wild, strong, 

 bold voice he had, unlike any other we had ever 

 heard on sea or land ! 



A near relative, the bull-bat, or nighthawk, 

 seemed hardly less wonderful. Towards even- 

 ing scattered flocks kept the sky lively as they 

 circled around on their long wings a hundred 

 feet or more above the ground, hunting moths 

 and beetles, interrupting their rather slow but 

 strong, regular wing-beats at short intervals 

 with quick quivering strokes while uttering 

 keen, squeaky cries something like fjee, -pfee, 

 and every now and then diving nearly to the 

 ground with a loud ripping, bellowing sound, 

 like bull-roaring, suggesting its name ; then tum- 

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