SOUTH AMERICA. 



85 



SECOND JOURNEY. 



In the year 1816, two days before the vernal eqiimox, I second 

 sailed from Liverpool for Pernambuco, in the southern — ^^^^^^^ 

 hemisphere, on the coast of Brazil. There is little at peniam- 

 this time of the year, in the European part of the Atlantic, 

 to engage the attention of the naturalist. As you go 

 down the channel, you see a few Divers and Gannets. 

 The middle-sized Gulls, with a black spot at the end of 

 the wings, attend you a little way into the Bay of Biscay. 

 When it blows a hard gale of wind, the stormy Petrel 

 makes its appearance. While the sea runs mountains 

 high, and every wave threatens destruction to the labour- 

 ing vessel, this little harbinger of storms is seen enjoying 

 itself, on rapid pinion, up and down the roaring billows. 

 When the storm is over, it appears no more. It is known 

 to every English sailor, by the name of Mother Carey's 

 chicken. It must have been hatched in bolus's cave, 

 amongst a clutch of squalls and tempests ; for, whenever 

 they get out upon the ocean, it always contrives to be of 

 the party. 



