SOUTH AMERICA. 
81 
sometimes in sunshine, and sometimes in the pale second 
moon’s nightly beam, as pleasure dictates, or as Jotm>l F — 
need requires. The additional assistance of wings is 
not thrown away upon it. It has full occupation both 
for fins and wings, as its life is in perpetual danger. 
The bonito and albicore chase it day and night; 
but the dolphin is its worst and swiftest foe. If it 
escape into the air, the dolphin pushes on with pro¬ 
portional velocity beneath, and is ready to snap it 
up the moment it descends to wet its wings. 
You will often see above one hundred of these 
little marine aerial fugitives on the wing at once. 
They appear to use every exertion to prolong their 
flight, but vain are all their efforts ; for when the 
last drop of water on their wings is dried up, their 
.flight is at an end, and they must drop into the 
ocean. Some are instantly devoured by their mer¬ 
ciless pursuer, part escape by swimming, and others 
get out again as quick as possible, and trust once 
more to their wings. 
It often happens that this unfortunate little crea¬ 
ture, after alternate dips and flights, finding all 
its exertions of no avail, at last drops on board the 
vessel, verifying the old remark, 
“ Incidit in Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdim ” 
There, stunned by the fall, it beats the deck with 
its tail and dies. When eating it, you would take it 
for a fresh herring. The largest measure from four¬ 
teen to fifteen inches in length. The dolphin, after 
pursuing it to the ship, sometimes forfeits his own life. 
In days of yore, the musician used to play in 
G 
