AURORA AUSTRALIS.
“Oo jeest Mr Forsteri, Aptenodytes Forsteri, a cousin o’ the M. P., I’m surprised ye didna ken, man! Its a vera auld family.”
“No doubt” I replied, “but you see we are strangers here. But does all the ground about here belong to Mr Forsteri?”
“Oo aye, sir, ye’ll see the march burn ahint ye there, by the laich side 0’ yon big scaur? The Maister’s vera parteeklar about this time o’ year. Ye see a’ the gentry will be comin’ for the nestin’ in june, and if he was tae see ye here then I dinna ken what he would say.”
“But we’re very inoffensive people, you know. We’re geologists, we just go about collecting stones for our own amusement.”
“Wha—at, gatherin’ stanes, are ye? Ye’re surely no nestin’ tae? Ye canna possibly dae it about here. The maister wouldna hear o’ it!
I should explain that the penguin builds his nest of stones only, so I hastened to explain.
“Oh! no no,” I said, "we merely collect the stones to take home, and show to people who are interested in them.”
“Besides,” said A— in a tone of deep melancholy, “ we’ve no hens with us.”
