fortified retreat it lays one egg, which, though the bird be not much bigger than a pigeon, is of the size of a hen's.

When the young one is excluded, the parent's industry and courage are incredible. Few birds or beasts will venture to attack them in their retreats. When the great sea-raven, as Jacobson informs us, comes to take away their young, the puffins boldly oppose him. Their meeting affords a most singular combat. As soon as the raven approaches, the puffin catches him under the throat with its beak, and sticks its claws into his breast, which makes the raven, with a loud screaming, attempt to get away; but the little bird still holds fast to the invader, nor lets him go till they both come to the sea, where they drop down together, and the raven is drowned: yet the raven is but too often successful; and invading the puffin at the bottom of its hole, devours both the parent and its family.

But were a punishment to be inflicted for immorality in irrational animals, the puffin is justly a sufferer from invasion, as it is often itself one of the most terrible invaders. Near the Isle of Anglesey, in an islet called Priesholm, their flocks may be compared, for multitude, to swarms of bees. In another islet, called the Calf of Man, a bird of this kind, but of a different species, is seen in great abundance. In both places, numbers of rabbits are found to breed; but the puffin, unwilling to be at the trouble of making a hole, when there is one ready made, dispossesses the rabbits, and, it is not unlikely, destroys their young. It is in these unjustly acquired retreats that the young puffins are found in great numbers, and become a very valuable acquisition to the natives of the place. The old ones (I am now speaking of the Manks puffin) early in the morning, at break of day, leave their nests and young, and even the island,

nor do they return till night-fall. All this time they are diligently employed in fishing for their young; so that their retreats on land, which in the morning were loud and clamorous, are now still and quiet, with not a wing stirring till the approach of dusk, when their screams once more announce their return. Whatever fish, or other food, they have procured in the day, by night begins to suffer a kind of half digestion, and is reduced to an oily matter, which is ejected from the stomach of the old ones into the mouth of the young. By this they are nourished, and become fat to an amazing degree. When they are arrived to their full growth, they who are intrusted by the lord of the island, draw them from their holes; and, that they may more readily keep an account of the number they take, cut off one foot as a token. Their flesh is said to be excessively rank, as they feed upon fish, especially sprats, and seaweed; however, when they are pickled and preserved with spices, they are admired by those who are fond of high eating. We are told, that formerly their flesh was allowed by the church on Lenten days. They were, at that time, also taken by ferrets, as we do rabbits. At present, they are either dug out, or drawn out from their burrows with a hooked stick.

They bite extremely hard, and keep such fast hold of whatever they seize upon, as not to be easily disengaged. Their noise when taken is very disagreeable, being like the efforts of a dumb person attempting to speak.

The constant depredation which these birds annually suffer, does not in the least seem to intimidate them, or drive them away; on the contrary, as the people say, the nest must be robbed or the old ones will breed there no longer. All birds of this kind lay but one egg; yet if that be taken away, they will lay another, and so on to a third; which seems to imply,

that robbing their nests does not much intimidate them from laying again. Those however, whose nests have been thus destroyed, are often too late in bringing up their young; who, if they be not fledged and prepared for migration when all the rest depart, are left at land to shift for themselves. In August the whole tribe is seen to take leave of their summer residence, nor are they observed any more till the return of the ensuing spring. It is probable that they sail away to more southern regions, as our mariners frequently see myriads of water fowl upon their return, and steering usually to the north. Indeed, the coldest countries seem to be their most favoured retreats; and the number of water fowl is much greater in those colder climates, than in the warmer regions near the Line. The quantity of oil which abounds in their bodies, serves as a defence against cold, and preserves them in vigour against its severity; but the same provision of oil is rather detrimental in warm countries, as it turns rancid, and many of them die of disorders which arise from its putrefaction. In general, however, water fowl can be properly said to be of no climate, the element upon which they live being their proper residence. They necessarily spend a few months of summer upon land, to bring up their, young, but the rest of their time is probably consumed in their migrations, or near some unknown coasts, where their provision of fish is found in greatest abundance.

Before I go to the third general division of water fowls, it may not be improper to observe, that there is one species of round-billed water fowl, that does not properly lie within any of the former distributions. This is the Gooseander; a bird with the body and wing shaped like those of the penguin kind, but with legs not hid in the belly. It may be distinguished from all others by its bill, which is round, hooked

at the point, and toothed, both upper and under chap, like a saw. Its colours are various and beautiful; however, its manners and appetites entirely resemble those of the Diver.. It feeds upon fish, for which it dives; and is said to build its nest upon trees, like the heron and the cormorant. It seems to form the shade between the penguin and the goose kind; having a round bill, like the one; and unembarrassed legs, like the other. In the shape of the head, neck, and body, it resembles them both.

CHAPTER IX.

OF BIRDS OF THE GOOSE KIND, PROPERLY SO CALLED.

THE Swan, the Goose, and the Duck, are leaders of a numerous, useful, and beautiful tribe of birds, that we have reclaimed from a state of nature, and have taught to live in dependence about us. To describe any of these, would be as superfluous as definitions usually are when given of things with which we are already well acquainted. There are few that have not had opportunities of seeing them, and whose ideas would not anticipate our description. But, though nothing be so easy as to distinguish these in general from each other, yet the largest of the duck kind approach the goose so nearly, that it may be proper to mark the distinctions.

The marks of the goose are, a bigger body, large wings, a longer neck, a white ring about the rump, a bill thicker at the base, slenderer towards the tip, with shorter legs placed forward on the body. They both have a waddling walk; but the duck, from the position of its legs, has it in a greater degree. By these marks, these similar tribes may be known

asunder; and though the duck should be found to equal the goose in size, which sometimes happens, yet there are still other sufficient distinctions.

But they all agree in many particulars, and have a nearer affinity to each other than the neighbouring kinds in any other department. Their having been tamed has produced alterations in each, by which they differ as much from the wild ones of their respective kinds, as they do among themselves. There is nearly as much difference between the wild and the tame duck, as between some sorts of the duck and the goose; but still, the characteristics of the kind are strongly marked and obvious, and this tribe can never be mistaken.

The bill is the first great obvious distinction of the goose kind from all of the feathered tribe. In other birds it is round and wedge-like, or crooked at the end. In all the goose kind it is flat and broad, made for the purpose of skimming ponds and lakes of the mantling weeds that stand on the surface. The bills of other birds are made of a horny substance throughout; these have their inoffensive bills sheathed with a skin which covers them all over. The bill of every other bird seems in some measure formed for piercing or tearing; theirs are only fitted for shoveling up their food, which is chiefly of the vegetable kind..

Though these birds do not reject animal food when offered them, yet they can contentedly subsist upon vegetables, and seldom seek any other. They are easily provided for; wherever there is water there seems to be plenty. All the other web-footed tribes are continually voracious, continually preying. These lead more harmless lives: the weeds on the surface of the water, or the insects at the bottom, the grass by the bank, or the fruits and corn in cultivated grounds, are sufficient to satisfy their easy