58 
miles from land, or tlie tit-lark, 1300 miles on the one side from 
the nearest main land of South America, and on the other, 900 miles 
from the Island of Georgia ! Both these instances however, are 
recorded by Bishop Stanley,* the former on the authority of 
Foster’s North America, and the latter on that of Dr. Traill, who 
saw the interesting little wanderer at Liverpool, where it was con- 
veyed by the ship on board which it was taken. Thompson, in his 
“ Natural History of Ireland ” t gives an interesting account of a 
flock (or it may be flocks) of snowy owls, which for several days 
followed a ship on her voyage from Quebec to Belfast, in November, 
1838. The ships “ log-book ” states that thirty or forty were seen 
on the 16th November; on the 17th a few alighted on the masts, 
and two were captured; on the 18th, fifty or sixty flying about and 
alighting on the rigging; 19th and 20th, owls seen both days and 
two more captured ; on the 21st, a gannet and a curlew were seen, 
but the owls appeared no more. “ The vessel was about 250 miles 
from the Straits of Bellisle, the south-east point of Labrador, when 
these owls first appeared, but sailing eastward, was, on the day they 
were last seen, about 740 miles distant thence, and 480 miles from 
the southern extremity of Greenland, which, for some time, was 
the nearest land. From the birds appearing and disa] 3 pearing at 
uncertain intervals, and in fluctuating numbers, IVlr. Thompson is 
of opinion, the same individuals did not present themselves on each 
occasion,but that they were successive flocks migrating to more southern 
latitudes. The captain of the vessel describes the appearance of these 
splendid birds, hovering hi silent flight around his ship in mid-sea, a.s 
beautiful in the extreme. Many other instances of the extraordi- 
nary powers possessed by birds to endure protracted flight, are on 
record, but these well authenticated examples are quite sufficient for 
the purpose of showing how wonderful is the power which enables 
creatures, so delicate, and apparently so feeble as our little summer 
migrants, to obey the mysterious instincts of nature which urge 
them to face all the dangers of an adverse element, and wing their 
way from distant climes ; returning, in some cases, almost to the 
day, to the land of their birth, to fill our groves with melody, and 
labour ceaselessly for our benefit. 
1 have endeavoured, hurriedly, and I fear imperfectly, to show 
* Familiar History British Birds, vol i, p. 94, third edition, 
t Vol i, pp. 102—6. 
