eye could reach, with birds whose cry resembled the noise of a gigantic surf or of a raging storm. At last we reached the top of the mountain, where two falcons that had been soaring over our heads swooped down like arrows into the swimming mass; each seized an auk in its claws, and then rose slowly toward the clouds. But the sea extended its wide, dark blue, bare surface before the eye, for the white swarm of birds had disappeared, having dived down beneath the protecting waves. After one or two minutes one arose, then a second, and a third, and so on in quick succession, and, as they thus gradually appeared on the surface, they looked like flecks of white foam. With marvelous rapidity the little dots increased, till soon it was only here and there that a strip of water could be seen. The screeching began anew, and the birds arose again from the water and moved toward the heights. We had sat down; the rustling, like that of the surf, and the monotonous cry of the birds, had lulled us gradually into a deep sleep. When we awoke and opened our eyes we could have believed that we were transported into a fairy land. In numbers like the sand on the sea-shore, the auks were squatting at our feet and down to the edge of the water, and curiously looking at us. We were the giants of the fairy story; they were the dwarfs, who dwelt in the secret caves of the mountain. The millions were there, if one could judge by the eye alone, but it is probable that, on an exact count, they would be many thousands short.
The auk lives a life of strict monogamy. It is to his beloved old wife, the flame of his youth, that he gives his attentions on every returning spring. The old auk is a constant, loving spouse, a pattern of a husband, and it is really a pity that the numerical relation of the sexes is such that not every young male can mate himself, and many are compelled to wander through life in compulsory bachelorhood. Particularly painful is the condition of the solitary one when the pairs go to the mountain in the spring. What shall he do? Shall he alone or with other morose companions wear out his life on the high sea? No, that would be suicide. He follows the bridal trains to the mainland and has at least a happy company around him, and may always hope that one of the males may perish, and he then in some possible way find favor in the eyes of the widow. The auks return every year to their old nests, which they readily distinguish, and the young, newly mated pairs build themselves new nests, or take possession of old ones whose owners have gone the way of all flesh. The male keeps watch at the entrance, while the female sets the house m order and lays her single egg, which is sat upon for about three weeks and a half. The female sits twenty-one hours a day, and the male ought to sit three hours, but he never does it, at least not in the beginning. As soon as the female goes away he rushes after her in a spasm of jealousy, for the young fellows are lurking around in all the corners and at all points. But this neglect of duty by the house-tyrant brings no harm to the
