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 half the Puffins in the world had assembled there. This far-famed isle is of considerable extent; its shores are guarded by numberless blocks of rock, and within a few yards of it the water is several fathoms in depth. The ground rises in the form of an amphitheatre to the height of about seventy feet, the greatest being from north to south, and its southern extremity fronting the Strait of Belleisle. For every burrow in the island previously visited by us, there seemed to be a hundred here; on every crag and stone stood a Puffin, at the entrance of every hole another, and yet the sea was covered and the air filled by them. * * * The burrows were all inhabited by young birds, of different ages and sizes, and clouds of Puffins flew over our heads each holding a fish by the head. * * * While flying the Puffins emitted a deep croaking noise, but they never dropped the fish, and many of them, when brought down by a shot, still held their prey fast. I beheld with concern the extraordinary affection manifested by these birds towards each other, for whenever one fell dead or wounded on the water its mate or a stranger immediately alighted by its side, swam around it, pushed it with its bill, as if to urge it either to fly or dive, and seldom would leave it until an oar was raised to knock it on the head, when, at last aware of the danger, it would plunge below in an instant. Those which fell wounded immediately ran with speed to some hole and dived into it, on which no further effort was made to secure them. Those which happened to be caught alive in the hand bit most severely, and scratched with their claws at such a rate, that we were glad to let them escape. The burrows here communicated in various ways with each other, so that the whole island was perforated as if by a multitude of subterranean labyrinths, over which one could not run without danger of falling at almost every step. The voices of the young sounded beneath our feet like voices from the grave, and the stench was extremely disagreeable, so that as soon as our boats were filled with birds we were glad to get away. During the whole of our visit the birds never left the place, but constantly attended to their avocations. Here one would rise from beneath, there within a few yards of us another would alight with a fish and dive into its burrow, or feed the young that stood waiting at the entrance. The young birds were far from being friendly with each other, and those we carried with us kept continually fighting so long as we kept them alive. They used their yet extremely small and slender bills with great courage and pertinacity, and their cries resembled the wailings of young whelps. The smaller individuals were fed by the parents by regurgitation, or received little pieces of fish which were placed in their mouths; the larger picked up the fish that were dropped before them, but almost all of them seemed to crawl to the entrance of the hole for the purpose of being fed. In all the burrows that communicated with others, a round place was scooped out on one side of the avenue, in the form of an oven, whilst in those that were single this oven-like place was found at the end, and was larger than the corridor. All the passages were flattish above and rounded beneath as well as on the sides. In many instances we found two birds sitting each on its egg in the same hole."

Their brood consists of but a single egg, about the size of that of a Duck; of this the shell is coarse and uneven, and the colour pure white, at least until they become soiled and dirty. Both sexes sit upon the eggs by turns, but how long the process of incubation lasts we are unable to state; some observers say five weeks. The dress of the newly-hatched young is composed of a thick down, of a light grey colour, spotted with coal-black. During the first day or two of its life, its cry is piping and very sad; but the note soon gets stronger, yet it is not till they are fledged that they learn to utter the shrill peculiar cry of the old birds. The young grow slowly, and after the lapse of a month are able to leave their holes, and, under the guidance of their parents, plunge into the sea.

Both parents evince the greatest affection for their young one; they go miles away in order to procure it food, and will face any danger in its defence. Sometimes, if the female is lost, the male will take upon himself the entire charge of his nestling, defending it with really serious bites of his formidable beak, and indefatigably providing for it the means of subsistence. Should their first egg