‘THE STORMY PETREL.

Tue sailors have a strong dislike of the
Stormy Petrel, looking upon it as the un-
failing herald of a tempest. They call
them Devil’s Birds and Mother Carey’s
Chickens. In nearly all seasons of the
year, these birds are seen wandering in
small flocks, over the dreary waste of the
ocean. On the edge of soundings, as the
vessel loses sight of the land, flocks of
these dark messengers begin to shoot
round her and finally take their station
in her foaming wake, watching for food.
On discovering a small morsel, they stop in
their whirling and skimming flight; and

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