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 is the male and which the female, but certainty is better, and certainty, at any moment or on any occasion, unless there is some marked difference between the sexes, one cannot have. In the case of gulls, however, though the plumage is alike, there is a difference in size sufficient to strike the eye, the male being larger—in the great black-backed gull, greatly larger—than the female.

Leaving the palled blandishments of its spouse, the gull husband cleaves the air, cuts the dark line of beetling precipice, and seeks the free haven of the open sea, where, with other sensible, repentant Benedicts, it wheels and circles. Suddenly a dusky form, slender and swallow-like, though as large as a pigeon, shoots over the rounded bastion of the heather, and sweeping towards as it nears the cliffs, darts upon one of the gulls. A second pirate follows. With wild cries, and long, gliding sweeps, they press and harass the larger bird, who, doubling, twisting, avoiding, dodging, but never resisting, utters again and again a cry of distress and complaint. Its companions sweep and eddy about them, shooting athwart and between. They protest, they cry to heaven, their wild voices mingle in harsh, discordant unison with the rock-dash of the waves, and the everlasting notes of the wind. Suddenly something drops from the oppressed gull. There is a sinking towards it of one of the dark shadows—swift beyond telling, but so soft that the speed is not realised—the object is covered, lost, and almost with a jerk, the eye—or rather the brain—realises that it has been caught in the descent. Empty, and now unregarded, the robbed bird sweeps on, the pirates sweep back