congregate and commence their formidable attack. Select a single bird, if that be possible; he soars but a minute, then with closed wings he poises his body, and goes down like a stone, making the spray break over the spot where he entered. After a few moments' submersion he reappears with a cork-like buoyancy, throwing back his head and gobbling down his prey so hastily and with such voracity, as almost to justify a suspicion that neither the bird nor the fish can benefit much by the transaction.

Having a keen appetite, the solan goose is easily imposed upon. I remember on one occasion fastening, by way of experiment, a fish to a fir plank more than a half an inch thick, and sending it adrift as a lure. It had not been long out till a wandering gannet was seen approaching. Immediately he caught sight of the fish he halted in his flight, and in another moment dashed head foremost with such force as to split the board in two; the bird, harlequin-like, disappearing in the sea as if nothing had obstructed its descent. Often afterwards, on looking at him in my collection, I regretted the unfairness of the poor fellow's capture, a broken neck being the result of his hungry plunge.

Last summer when pigeon shooting at the sea caves south of Ballantrae, one of the boatmen informed me of having assisted, many years ago, in the removal of one hundred and twenty-eight dead geese from a train of herring nets which had been lying at a depth of one hundred and eighty feet. The accumulation of birds in the nets, though sunk with heavy weights, had brought the whole train to the surface, by the buoyancy of their bodies, and attracted the notice of the people on shore; and as the nets contained a quantity of herrings, it was conjectured that the geese had been drawn to the spot by their glittering sides, and been tempted to risk their necks in pursuit.

The guillemot (Uria troile) and razor-bill (Utamania torda) * breed on the narrow ledges of rock, occupying the entire face of the highest precipices, and presenting, when viewed from the sea, a very remarkable and orderly appearance. They make no nest, but lay their single egg upon the bare ledge, which is seldom more than six inches in breadth, so that each bird is compelled to sit erect when incubating. I have frequently climbed to a height of four or five hundred feet to see the most thickly-populated breeding-place; and having hurled down a few stones to frighten the birds, they all took wing,

The genus Utamania, which was instituted by the late Prince Lucien Bonaparte, when taken in connection with that of Mormon or puffin, inclines one to the belief that this distinguished ornithologist had the Great Salt Lake in view when re-arranging his nomenclature.

leaving a most extraordinary collection behind them. The guillemot's egg, which is large and of a handsome shape, is very variable in colour, and of all shades, from pure white to a deep green, many being spotted with fantastic characters and intricate lines, which baffle description or portraiture. The sight of so many, therefore, lying exposed on the bare rock, is one of no common interest. On such occasions many hundreds may be seen uncovered, all nearly touching one another; and when the birds come pouring in towards the ledges, after having been disturbed, each flying directly to its own egg, the infinite variety of colouring, or private marks, so to speak, may be looked upon as an all-wise arrangement for keeping up the harmony of the settlement.

The guillemot feeds its young with herring fry, which it brings to the rock half swallowed, the tails being invariably seen outside the bill. The razor-bill is not so industrious, for he may be observed at any hour dozing on his perch, watching the puffins coming to their burrows with a supply of sand-eels; then he sallies out, and buffets the poor Mormon till the fishes are dropped, after which he has but to descend, and pick them up. This mid-air robbery is not always so easily settled; for, as both birds are flying with tremendous force-the one hurrying towards the rock and the other launching from it-the collision occasionally causes their death. A few weeks ago a friend, while cruising past the craig, observed a puffin and razor-bill strike each other dead by coming into sudden and forcible collision; but his skipper, probably unaware of the razor-bill's predatory habits, assigned as a reason that they had not ported their helms.

On descending on one occasion the grassy slopes, when all the birds were hatching, I approached the perpendicular walls of rock facing the south, on which the guillemots, razor-bills, solan geese, and kittiwakes were sitting in congregations outnumbering all calculation. A party happened to be shooting from a boat close to the base of the cliffs. The birds on the upper shelves, when disturbed by successive shots, resembled a heavy fall of large snow-flakes, the lower stratum of kittiwakes appearing from above as a flickering shower of white particles. Having crept cautiously to the verge of the precipice, and thrust my chin over the sharp edge of a pillar, my heels being meanwhile held by a companion behind, I had a satisfactory view. Looking down four hundred and fifty feet, I observed that the gulls and other birds floating on wing near the water had no particular form, on account of the distance; but there could be no doubt as to the specific identity of the black imps. just under my nose. These were young guillemots and razorbills, the old birds being beside them, anxiously poking out

their necks, and looking upwards with an eye of fear that fairly put me out of countenance. Judging from their expression, it was evident they were not accustomed to such visits of inspection, and their mingled look of terror and perplexity on seeing the apparition was the reverse of complimentary. Under the perch of these odoriferous "children of the mist," other families came in view, lower and still lower, their behaviour and unclean peculiarities being modified by distance, till the eye lost sight of the species, and sea-fowl in general became responsible for the smell and uproar.

When the young of the guillemot are half fledged, the parent birds are seen daily by the keeper taking them down on their backs to the sea, and unceremoniously pitching them off, within a few feet of the water. They have also been observed to seize them by the hind neck, as a cat would do to its kittens, and after a moment's hesitation, launch from their high perches, and descend with an unsteady flutter, till they could drop the young ones with safety.

The fearful discord which prevails on these ledges, when the young are hatched, is not easily described. The guillemots and razor-bills unite in one deafening roar of a peculiar tone, and when that loud groan is past, the harsh cries of the solan geese-bad enough of their kind-are heard as a kind of faint echo. But the noise is only exerted when danger is at hand, for on ordinary occasions the cry of the gentle kittiwake is oftenest heard, especially at twilight, before all becomes hushed. At this hour few localities are more impressive than this solitary rock. I remember one evening in June seating myself on a projecting pinnacle overlooking the sea, where I had partly in view the roosting places of these airy sea-gulls. The sun had gone down behind some loose clouds touching the sea, leaving the sky steeped in purple; the cliffs partook of its hues, and even the birds themselves were coloured for a moment. Looking around I descried a peregrine falcon on his eyrie, the noble bird being close enough for me to see the sparkle of his full black eye. Eagle-like, he sat with his neck drawn upon his shoulders, moving his head with a careless turn to the side. In the next instant he threw a defiant look at the purple spot on the horizon, stedfastly gazing upon it a few seconds, then the glance was withdrawn, and with a shrug he went to sleep. As the gathering shadows now grew deeper, I recollected, what would have occurred to most people in the circumstances, that a knowledge of the best and safest way down the rugged face of the cliffs was of more importance than all the falcons in the world.

The limits of a single article scarcely admit of more than a bare enumeration of the birds frequenting the island; but as

some of these are deserving of more than a passing notice, it may not be out of place to record their occurrence. Among the raptorial birds, the most distinguished visitors (for they no longer breed there) are the golden and white-tailed eagles. These are chiefly seen in autumn, and are supposed to be attracted to the place by their chances of subsisting upon the entrails of rabbits, which are at that season killed by the tacksman, and disembowelled previous to being sent on shore. The peregrine falcon, which is not uncommon, still breeds there, and from his great powers of flight regales himself and young with prey not obtainable on the rock, though the supply is ample. The kestrel, the white owl, and short-eared owl are also natives of the rock. The raven and carrion crow, though systematically shot at, maintain their ground, and bring up their families upon the eggs and callow young of the sea-fowl, long after they have quitted the nest. The corn-crake is occasionally seen with its brood, and the thrush and blackbird both build their nests in the old castle ruins, and among the rocks, at an elevation of 500 or 600 feet. The wheatear is a familiar tenant, and the snipe and woodcock are both common at certain seasons.

Of the gulls there are found breeding on the grass-covered summit five or six species-the kittiwake being, perhaps, the most numerous. The greater and lesser black-backed gulls are also abundant, as well as the common gull (Larus canus), and the herring gull, all of which keep within their own territories, the sanctity of which, however, is occasionally outraged by their piratical visitors the skuas. The Iceland gull is the rarest of the family; it is, however, seen in small numbers every summer, and is well known to the keeper. On warm summer evenings I have observed this bird feeding after dusk; and during the day, indeed, it is constantly dozing upon rocks at the foot of the craig, near the water. The ringed guillemot (Uria lachrymans) is not uncommon. I have never had any difficulty in obtaining this species from the keeper, who goes in search of it when wanted, and selects his bird, cleverly snaring it with a hair-noose on the end of a pole. The little auk (Mergulus alle) has been seen in summer, and the storm petrel breeds under the loose stones at the base of the cliffs. On dull days I have seen the bird issuing from these retreats at mid-day, following our boat two or three miles towards the mainland.

NOTES ON THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE
NATTERJACK.

BY JONATHAN COUCH, F.L.S., ETC.

THE Natterjack is a kind of toad, the existence of which was not known in the British islands until it was made known by Pennant, and to him the information was communicated by Sir Joseph Banks. But there was scarcely anything given of its history or manners. Pennant says that it frequents dry and sandy places, but it is known to the writer only as it is found in places much the opposite of this; although the difference may arise only as its residence and habits are affected by the change of seasons; or by the influence arising from the impulse to deposit its spawn in a congenial situation, which within our observation has only been in pools of rocks so close to the open sea as to appear to be every instant exposed to be broken in upon by salt water. At the most a foot or two of the bare rock is all that lies between the favoured situation and the open sea, so that a little roughness of the waves appears to be at any time sufficient to throw the sea into the place; and in some instances it was noticed that there were pools tenanted by the rockgoby, a fish which must have entered them from the sea, which lay on the same level with those which were occupied by the natterjack. But it was a subject of surprise that the latter could have been able to enter the pool, in consequence of the almost inaccessible situation of the place to such a creature from the land. On closer examination, however, it is constantly to be observed that these selected pools are in a damp place, where a draining of fresh water from the more elevated cliff is constantly dribbling into them; so that the water in which the spawn is deposited is but little, if at all brackish. Natterjacks make their appearance in these situations about the end of March, or at the early part of April; and it appears that in habitually selected spots they come all at once, and without loss of time they begin to perform the functions which have brought them together. This early proceeding is the more immediately necessary as there is scarcely any shelter in the place by which to conceal themselves or their actions; for the water is too fresh for the growth of seaweeds, and too bare to permit plants which might grow in fresh water to establish their roots. In consequence of the exposed situation of these places of resort it sometimes happens that these unprotected animals are destroyed by ignorant persons, who have thought their slaughter a meritorious act.

The shedding of the spawn is probably accomplished in the night, and seems to be effected with considerable labour, and