the surface of the ocean, they furnish a plentiful supply of food for this large gull, who, being unable to dive, is, in fact, nothing better than a marine scavenger. Doubtless he fully appreciates the important services rendered to him by the seals, and it is quite reasonable to suppose that he is not influenced by disinterested motives in acting as their guardian angel.'

Now we do not believe that the great black-backed gull ever 'appreciated the important services rendered to him by the seals.' We believe that he never reasoned, or stopped to reason upon the matter; that he perceived through that wonderful gift of sight which belongs not to vultures only, but to all vulturine birds, with his great empty stomach and craving, ravenous maw, marine scavenger as he was, the offal for which he longed, and that he haunted the places where it was used to be, and when he found it gorged it. But that he connected his food-finding with the presence of seals lacks, we think, all proof; still more that, from any interested motive, he acted as their guardian angel. If seals have guardian angels, it is not, indeed, to be disputed that they would probably assume the form of black-backed gulls, but that there entered into our black-backed friend's mind any thought of the seals, or what he owed them for the past, or, still more, any of that highly refined gratitude which consists in the expectation of future favours, we cannot in the least admit. The gull uttered his cry of natural terror when he first sighted his great enemy lying in ambush; like the Schretel who, whilst roasting his meat, saw sleeping near him the white bear which the King of Norway was sending to the King of Denmark, and immediately said within himself, What does this creature here? if it should remain with thee, thou mightest easily receive some hurt. The gull perceived the danger of hurt, and cried out accordingly, as his instinct bade him. The cry of alarm reached the seal, and by the

Norse poem, quoted in Fairy Legends of the South of Ireland,' vol. iii. p. 134.

instinct which in him associated danger with all such sudden outcries, he, according to its laws, waddled off into the protecting deep.

But though we cannot here agree with our author's somewhat poetic flight, even on the wings of a black-backed gull, we gladly admit his claims to be a real naturalist Every branch of natural history has its charm for him; from the jeering laugh of the modern gull up to the red sandstone fishes which peopled the waters of the Old World.' Perhaps the most enthusiastic passage, indeed, of his whole volume is that in which he describes his chase, not of the 'travelling Salmo,' but of the solemnly reposing ichthyolites of the Tynet burn. For a whole day he pecks, and hammers, and wades, and carries home in a fish-bag his nodule spoils, to find out, as before night he examines them, that his nodules were worthless, and his fish-bed exhausted. Nothing, however, cast down, he sets two able-bodied quarry-men to work for two days to clear away the accumulated rubbish, and lay bare some truncated edge of the fish-bed. And now, at last, came the well-earned success :

'Suddenly a nodule of a form rather unusual, and of considerable size, attracted my attention, as it stuck half-way out of the marl. With what breathless suspense did I apply the hammer! A vertical blow soon separated it into two parts, and the chisel gradually revealed to my delighted eyes, first the anterior half, then the remaining portion of a beautiful Osteolepis. The bones of the head, which are generally found to be dislocated, were nearly in their proper places, while the entire body was covered with scales like a coat of armour, and as brilliant as mother-of-pearl.'

Still, it is in the observance of actual existing animal life that our author is pre-eminent. Sometimes, indeed, he is compelled to admit certain omissions in his sportsman's life of which this love of observation must bear the blame. Thus, for instance, he is out for deer-shooting in one of the great pine woods which skirt in its immediate vicinity the well-kept garden pleasances of Gordon Castle. After some of the dis

appointments of such a day, he has shot his first roe in a discursive drive, and is now to be posted in a vast net in one of the pine-trees, whilst the dogs are loosed to drive the deer past the sportsmen in their aërial hiding-places

a mass of boughs, like a huge bird's nest, about twelve or fourteen feet overhead, with a rude and frail ladder of fir-sticks fastened to the trunk, leading up to it almost perpendicularly, and suggesting altogether the idea of a so-called gorilla's dormitory, but seeming to evince less architectural talent in its construction than that quadrumane would have exhibited. These hiding-places were arranged in trees about a hundred yards apart from each other, and in due time I found myself concealed in the particular one allotted to me.' . . . .

Perched thus on high for the destruction of his own game, he most unpleasantly finds himself the prey of other creatures, who evidently entertain the mistaken impression that he is placed amongst them for their special benefit:

The day, like so many that had preceded it of late, was close and sultry, and the persecution that I endured from gnats and midges far beyond anything of the kind I had previously experienced. Their attacks, indeed, as I found on many subsequent occasions, constitute the standard plague of a roedeer drive in these woods.

For full an hour afterwards did I keep watch, staring at the opposite path, at first anxiously, then listlessly, in the vain hope of seeing a buck

'Nothing had struck me more throughout the day than the perfect stillness of nature, the uninterrupted silence reigning in these fir-woods. I was especially surprised at the total absence of all kinds of small birds, some of which, such as the great tit, the blue tit, or their congeners, the marsh or the cole tit, I should have expected to see or hear even at this season, or at least to have caught a glimpse of some feathered inhabitants of the forest. This circumstance had just recurred to my memory with redoubled force, as I perceived, by the declining sun, that the evening was approaching, when suddenly a singular, continuous, shrill chirping sound reached my ears, as of several small birds together, but the notes were strange to me. Although well acquainted with the call of most British birds, I could not recognise this one, and the longer I listened the more I was puzzled. Gradually it approached, and seemed to proceed from one of the taller Scotch firs at a little distance. Fixing my eyes on the spot, I soon saw several little birds, something larger than bullfinches, emerging from the foliage, and, flying one by one towards the tree that was nearest to me,

alight on the very boughs that hung over my head. I could hardly believe my eyes, as I realised the delightful fact that I was actually within a few yards of a whole family of cross-bills, Loxia curvirostra, busily engaged at their marvellous employment of splitting the fir-cones and extracting the seeds.

'Need I say that the recollection of previous bad luck, and even my sufferings from the gnats, were obliterated by such an interesting sight, not the less welcome from its being so unexpected. The very plumage of these little creatures added to the charm of their presence. Some were of a beautiful deep crimson colour, others orange or yellow; others, again, were clad in a plain brown livery, and all were busily intent on their occupation of rifling the cones, during which they kept flying about from one twig to another, incessantly uttering their shrill, monotonous notes. After close observation, I noticed that they seldom attempted to operate upon a cone on the exact spot where it grew, but, after snapping one off from a slender terminal twig, each bird would hop or fly to the central part of the branch, and in parrot-like fashion, hold it in his foot, but more frequently under it, as a hawk holds a small bird when in the act of devouring it; and, quickly inserting his bill between the scales, split them open by means of that wonderful tool, and extract the seeds with the greatest facility. Occasionally a cone would fall to the ground just as it was snapped off; but, in such a case, a fresh one was instantly selected, no further notice being taken of the one that had dropped. Their powers of climbing appeared fully equal to that of the titmice, as they swung about in all directions and in every imaginable attitude, twisting and twirling, fluttering, and chattering, within a few yards of me, and evidently quite unconscious of my presence. This was too good to last. The loud cries of the beaters, now rapidly approaching, had for some time overpowered the notes of the crossbills, and announced that the chasse was drawing to a close. Either alarmed at this, or having completed their selection of the most tempting cones in the fir-tree over my head, some of the little birds were evidently preparing for a move, when suddenly a rushing sound behind me recalled me to consciousness, and, turning about, I had just time to catch a glimpse of a fine roebuck, with a capital head, dash across the vista within twelve yards of my position. My gun, on half-cock, had long reposed in the hollow of my arm, and there it still remained, as useless, under the circumstances, as a walking-stick. I will not venture to assert that I felt no mortification at that moment, nor when relating the incident to some of my more successful brother sportsmen afterwards, but I can sincerely say that the disappointment was more than compensated by the rich ornithological treat I had the good fortune to enjoy.'

Caught napping, it must be allowed; in a real dream of

birds of paradise; and yet who would not rather have had that dream than the best headed roebuck of the whole drive? But though once caught unprepared, our readers must not suppose that Mr. Knox really lets his love for natural history interfere with his sportsmanship. The two tastes intermingle delightfully, and give their peculiar charm to his writings. For be is at heart both a naturalist and a sportsman; and, as a sportsman, a keen one. Here is one of his deer-stalking experiences, which gives a good example of the mettle of the man. By half sliding, half wriggling, feet foremost, down the hill-side, and then crawling over the stones in the bed of the burn, he gets hopefully in sight of his quarry :

'We had still the big stag in prospect, and another hour brought us over the ridge and round the hills to the top of the corrie. Here we slowly raised our heads, and noiselessly opening our glasses examined its sides. There was "the muckle hart," still lying down, . . . but with his head turned away from us. Even when thus foreshortened he looked a giant among the others. . . .

'At this moment a distant croaking sound attracted my attention. . . . Suddenly the deep, hoarse notes, that at first had reached my ear at regular intervals, were followed by a succession of rapidly repeated angry barks in a higher key. These soon became louder and louder, and, turning up my eyes, I saw, to my consternation, just over our heads, a large raven. . . He evidently perceived us and redoubled his warnings, swooping round and circling directly over us. In a few seconds all was over. Away went the hinds. Last of all uprose the stag himself, slowly and leisurely; ... then he trotted up the side of the corrie in the track of the fugitive hinds. Presently we saw the whole herd slacken their pace and, one by one, disappear over the hill; until, at last, "the monarch of the glen" himself loomed in dark profile on the sky-line, and then vanished from our sight.

“Bad luck, that, McKay,” said I, scarcely able to restrain the bitterness of my feelings. I could see that my companion fully shared them . . . . as I could occasionally detect an imprecation on the head of the "doom'd corbie" that had spoiled our sport and robbed us of the finest stag in the forest.'

There can be no doubt that it was the 'doom'd corbie' which, as a black informer, spoiled their sport; but, as we have