223 



WILSON'S PETREL.— MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKEN. 



Thalassidroma Wilsonii, Bonap. 



PLATE CCCCLX.— Male and Female. 



A long voyage would always be to me a continued source of suffering, 

 were I restrained from gazing on the vast expanse of the waters, and on the 

 ever-pleasing inhabitants of the air that now and then appear in the ship's 

 wake. The slightest motion of the vessel effectually prevents me from 

 enjoying the mirth of my fellow passengers, or sympathizing with them in 

 their sickness. When the first glimpse of day appears, I make my way on 

 deck, where I stand not unlike a newly hatched bird, tottering on feeble 

 legs. Let the wind blow high or not, I care little which, provided it waft 

 me toward the shores of America. If the sky be clear, the first sight of the 

 sun excites emotions of gratitude towards the Being by whose power it was 

 formed, and sent forth to shed its benign influence on surrounding worlds. 

 Silent adoration occupies my soul, and I conclude with ardent wishes for the 

 happiness of friends left far behind, and those toward whom I am proceed- 

 ing. But now, ever flapping its winglets, I have marked the little bird, 

 dusky all over save a single spot, the whiteness of which contrasts with the 

 dark hue of the waters and the deep tone of the clear sky. Full of life and 

 joy it moves to and fro, advances toward the ship, then shoots far away, 

 gambols over the swelling waves, dives into their hollows, and twitters with 

 delight as it perceives an object that will alleviate its hunger. Never 

 fatigued, the tiny Petrels seldom alight, although at times their frail legs and 

 feet seem to touch the crest of the foaming wave. I love to give every 

 creature all the pleasure I can confer upon it, and towards the little things I 

 cast over the stern such objects as I know they will most prize. Social 

 creatures! would that all were as innocent as you! There are no bickerings, 

 no jealousies among you; the first that comes is first served; it is all the 

 result of chance; and thus you pass your lives. But the clouds gather, the 

 gale approaches, and our gallant bark is trimmed. Darkness spreads over 

 the heavens, and the deep waters send back a blacker gloom, broken at 

 intervals by the glimmer of the spray. You meet the blast, and your little 

 wings bear you up against it for awhile; but you cannot encounter the full 

 force of the tempest; and now you have all come close beneath me, where 



