90 
THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 
Indeed, by the time the shot shall have reached the point of 
their immersion, they have sculled away beneath the sur- 
face, and under the very boat itself, some hundred or two 
yards, and presently thrust up their black heads, far astern 
of the discomfited gunner. But the poor Loon now be- 
gins to discover that this confounded percussion powder, 
is much too quick for him, and it will no longer answer 
for him to rely upon his own celerity against so swift a 
traveller. This new enemy emits no flash, and drives a 
score of leaden messengers into him, before he begins to 
think of moving. 
I remember my first pitched-battle against the Loon. 
If I had then known the “ nature of the beast,” as tho- 
roughly as I do now, I should not have suffered myself to 
have been foiled in so unequal an encounter. Myself and 
a brother fowler, (both ardent, though inexperienced gun- 
ners,) had been traversing the woods for the better part of 
a long summer’s day, and found ourselves about the hour 
of twilight, on the shore of a broad inland bay, whose 
sandy border skirted the woods around. Upon entering 
upon the beach, we were no less surprised than pleased to 
see two of these large birds, riding silently at anchor within 
pistol-shot of us. There they were, quietly rocking on 
the billow, like two gallant ships patiently watching the 
movements in a blockaded port. Their long crooked 
necks slowly swung round as we approached, and I could 
see the sharp, black eye of each cast upon us an inquisitive 
and fearless glance. Up went our guns to our shoulders, 
and bang they went with a simultaneous report. When 
the smoke blew aside, I expected to behold them both keeled 
over on their sides, well riddled with our shot. But here 
was a reckoning without mine host. They had both, like 
the “little Aerial,” in the Water Witch, disappeared from 
the surface of the sea, but whether they had vanished into 
the air, or had plunged to the bottom of the deep, was a 
moot point with us. Presently, however, up rose my 
two gentlemen, for a commodity of fresh air, which they 
much needed after so long a sojourn among the fishes. My 
comrade and myself being resolved to give chase to the 
enemy, eagerly traversed the shore, in search of a wherry, 
skiff, or water craft of any description, in which to em- 
bark. In the mean time the enemy were securely riding 
again at anchor under the lee of a huge black rock, afar off, 
which rose abruptly from the bosom of the deep, and 
which the billows for ever encircled with their foamy 
wreaths. We heard their solitary scream coming from 
afar over the waters, and it seemed to us like a bold chal- 
lenge, gallantly sent by the flag of one nation, to that of 
another hostile land. I thought of the day when the gal- 
lant Shannon fired her signal-gun on the coast of New- 
England, and sent in her courteous invitation to the no 
less gallant Chesapeake, then anchored in Boston harbour, 
to sail forth and do her utmost for the honour of her country. 
But our feathered challengers had somewhat the advantage 
of myself and comrade, inasmuch as a great watery gulf 
intervened between us, and although with the help of their 
strong wings they might come to us, we could not pass over 
to them without the aid of a boat. At length we found a 
small and clumsily-built wherry, lying bottom-upwards, 
far above high-water mark, which with our united strength 
we succeeded in launching. But the burning sun of sum- 
mer had opened in it a thousand gaping seams, through 
which the element of water entered without opposition. 
But into it we stowed our persons and guns, which I was 
commissioned to serve in the battle, while my comrade, in 
the capacity of crew, sculled away as well as a fragment of 
an oar would permit, and at the same time bailed out the 
water, which gained upon us in the hold, with his hat. 
I ran out both of our pieces of ordnance, and opened a fire 
upon the enemy when within half gun-shot. But they 
showed the “white feather,” or rather no feather at all, 
and dove at the flash, and emerged again, a good half mile 
distant. We pursued, fired again and again, with no 
better success, till they had allured us nearly out to sea, 
when they left us to find our way back again, as we could. 
In the meantime “ with one stride came the dark.” We 
ran our little vessel into a sandy cove of a small but beau- 
tiful island, and there spent the night under a tree in the 
woods. The isle was uninhabited, so comfortable lodgings 
and a good civilized supper, were not to be had for love or 
money, — but we made a fine blazing fire, by means of our 
guns, and broiled upon it the few birds we had shot, 
(chiefly wild pigeons) and passed a most merry night un- 
der the green wood tree. Indeed, we lit up a beacon that 
was seen for miles around, and a grand spectacle did the 
ruddy flames disclose, casting their glare upon the savage 
woods around, and the heaving billows of the sea. When 
the earliest streak of the dawning trembled in the east, we 
re-embarked, and returned to “the bosom of our afflicted 
families.” M. 
MAZEPPA. 
The dreadful punishment inflicted upon the hero of 
Lord Byron’s Poem, has a demoniacal example in a news- 
paper called “ Mereurius Politicus,” printed in 1655. The 
narrative is dated from Hamburg. 
“This last week several wagoners coming from Bres- 
land to Silesia, on their way into the Duke of Saxony’s 
country, perceived a stag with a man upon his back, run- 
