1G4 THE INHABITANTS OF THE SEA. 



giant carrion. They also feed upon the large cephalopoda 

 that inhabit mid-ocean, and remains of these molluscs are 

 generally found in their stomach. The Auckland and Campbell 

 islands seem to be two of their favourite breeding-stations. 

 When Sir James Eoss visited these secluded groups, the birds 

 were so assiduously breeding as to allow themselves to be 

 taken with the hand. The nest is built of sand mixed with 

 dried leaves and grasses, generally eighteen inches high, with 

 a diameter of twenty-seven inches at the surface, and of six feet 

 at the base. While breeding, the snow-white head and neck of 

 the bird project above the grasses, and betray it from afar. 

 On endeavouring to drive it from its eggs it defends itself va- 

 liantly, snapping with its beak. Its greatest enemy is a fierce 

 raptorial gull (Lestris antarcticus), which is always on the look- 

 out, and, as soon as the albatross leaves the nest, shoots down 

 upon it to steal the eggs. 



Swift flies the albatross, but fancy travels with still more rapid 

 wings through the realms of space, and leads us suddenly from 

 the lone islands of the Pacific to the north of another hemisphere. 

 Saint Kilda rises before us — a glorious sight when the last rays 

 of the setting sun, as he slowly sinks upon the ocean, light up 

 with dazzling splendour the towering cliffs of the island, which 

 one might almost fancy to be some huge volcano newly emerged 

 from the deep, or the impregnable bulwark of some enchanted 

 land. St. Kilda, one of the most striking examples of the grandest 

 rock-scenery, plunges on all sides perpendicularly into the sea, 

 so that although six miles in circumference, it affords but one 

 single landing-place, accessible only in fair weather. Four of 

 the promontories are perforated, and as many large caverns are 

 lormed, through which the sea rolls its heaving billows. From 

 the eastern extremity, which rises nearly perpendicularly to the 

 height of 1380 feet, and is supposed to be the loftiest precipice 

 in Britain, the view is of indescribable sublimity. Far 

 below, the long heavy swell of the ocean is seen climbing up 

 the dark rock, whose base is clothed with sheets of snow-white 

 foam. In many places the naked rock disappears under the 

 myriads of sea-birds sitting upon their nests ; the air is literally 

 clouded with them, and the water seems profusely dotted with 

 the larger fowl, the smaller ones being nearly invisible on ac- 

 count of the distance. Every narrow ledge is thickly covered 



