120 
NATURAL HISTORY. 
of shores; that which slopes towards the water with a gentle 
declivity, and that which rises with a precipitate boldness, 
and appears as a bulwark to repel the force of the invading 
deep. It is to such shores as these that the vast variety 
of seafowl resort, and in the cavities of these rocks they 
breed in safety. Of the tremendous sublimity of these ele- 
vations, it is not easy to form an idea. The boasted works 
of art, the highest towers, the noblest domes, are but ant- 
hills, when put in comparison; the single cavity of a rock 
often exhibits a coping higher than the ceiling of a Gothic 
cathedral. What should we think of a precipice three- 
quarters of a mile in height ? and yet the rocks of St. Kilda 
are still higher ! What must be our awe to approach the edge 
of that impending height, and to look down on the un- 
fathomable vacuity below ? To ponder on the terrors of 
falling to the bottom, where the waves that swell like moun- 
tains are scarcely seen to curl on the surface, and the roar 
of the ocean appears softer than the murmur of a brook ! 
It is in these formidable mansions that myriads of sea 
fowls are ever seen sporting. To the spectator from above, 
those birds, though some of them above the size of an eagle, 
seem scarcely as large as a swallow: and their loudest 
screaming is scarce perceptible. 
Yet even these animals are not in perfect security from 
the arts and activity of man. Want, which is the great spring 
of human exertion, can force the cottager to tempt the most 
formidable dangers, and to put forth an endeavour almost 
beyond the force of man. When the precipice is to be 
assailed from below, the fowlers furnish themselves with poles 
of five or six ells in length, with a hook at the end, and fix- 
ing one of these poles in the girdle of the person who is to 
ascend, his companions, in a boat, or on a projection of the 
cliff, assist his progress till he procures a firm footing. When 
this is accomplished, he draws the others up with a rope, 
and another man is forwarded again by means of the pole 
to a higher station. Frequently the person who is in the 
highest situation holds another man suspended by a rope, 
and directs his course to the place where the birds have 
placed their nests. It unfortunately too often happens, that 
the man who holds the rope has not a footing sufficiently 
secure, and in that case both of them inevitably perish. 
Some precipices are so abrupt, that they are not by any 
means to be ascended from below. In this case a rope is pro- 
vided of eighty or a hundred fathoms long, which one of 
the fowlers fastens to his waist, and between his legs, in such 
a manner as to support him in a sitting posture. The rope 
ts held by five or six persons on the top, and it slides upon a 
