their first arrival from the cold north to the more genial climate of Britain, than Flamborough Head. Projecting from the Yorkshire coast for many miles directly out into the sea, it offers a first resting-place to many of those thousands of weary wanderers which, at this season, arrive on our eastern shores. It was with the expectation of meeting with some of our well-known winter visitors on their arrival that, in company with a friend, I again visited the neighbourhood; and I now venture to give the results of our observations.

October 16, 3.30 P.M. Left our quarters at the Thornwick Hotel, and walked down to the north landing, and from thence to the extreme point of the headland, following the ins and outs of the coast-line, a distance of three miles. The only birds in the bay, called the "north landing-place," were herring gulls and kittiwakes, old and young birds of both species, the young kittiwakes showing distinctly the black tip to the tail, as well as the dark markings on the back of the head and on the lesser wing-coverts. Very few kittiwake gulls are now to be found, compared with the thousands frequenting the neighbourhood during the spring and summer. Rock pipits were everywhere numerous along the coast. From the rocks near the lighthouse five cormorants, disturbed by our conversation, dashed out seaward, almost brushing the tops of the waves in their rapid and awkward flight. The shades of evening were deepening as we left the point and turned our steps homeward. From a storm-twisted bush near the lighthouse a redbreast, the "messenger of calm decay," was pouring forth its sweet and lonely song, while overhead the bright scarlet and white rays from the highly polished reflectors were projected, like the spread of a gigantic fan, far into the gathering gloom. Various species of migratory birds have from time to time been picked up outside the lantern; attracted by the glare they fly like moths against the glass, and are killed about the middle of October, last year, a woodcock dashed right through the glass, which is a quarter of an inch in thickness, and was picked up mutilated and dead from amongst the lamps.

October 17, wind S.S.W. A pouring rainy day. Observed large flocks of larks in the stubble-fields opposite our quarters, and a small party of fieldfares and redwings flying over. Walked down to the south landing-place, overlooking Bridlington Bay, disturbing a solitary wheatear from the upper clay cliff near the landing-place. We proceeded some distance along the coast, to the southern termination of the so-called "Danes' Dyke," and then turned up a little wild glen

forming a natural fosse to that wonderful defensive embankment which from this point runs completely across the promontory. The sides of this valley are clothed with gorse and tall herbaceous plants, venerable hawthorns and a long line of plantation, with an undergrowth of broom, gorse and bracken, affording an admirable shelter and retreat for many of our migratory birds on their first arrival, and it is said a famous place for woodcocks. We walked along the top of the embankment to the northern side of the headland, a distance of nearly three miles, observing on our way numerous flocks of redwings and fieldfares feeding in the old hawthorn-fences skirting the entrenchment; these venerable gnarled and moss-draped hedge-rows were quite scarlet with haws, and will long afford an ample feast to any flocks of Merulidæ arriving on the promontory. The embankment terminates on the extreme edge of the northern precipices, 330 feet above the sea. From this point we turned along the cliff towards Flamborough, and as we walked homewards watched the rock pigeons returning from the stubbles to their cotes in the sea-caves below.

October 18, wind S.E. A calm still morning, but as we perceive, by the "drum and cone" suspended from the signal-station, not destined to last. Went out in a boat in Bridlington Bay, with the intention of fishing, and at the same time looking after any birds we might come across; pulled away in the direction of the Point, and as near to the coast as possible, for the chance of a shot on the low reef of rocks, uncovered at low water, which skirt the base of the cliffs. An oystercatcher, the only one seen during our visit, was standing on the extremity of a line of low rocks, as yet barely uncovered by the water, its bright red bill and white under parts contrasting strongly with the dark sea-weed-covered rocks. Wild and difficult of approach as these birds are, it allowed us to get so near that a green cartridge rolled him over into the sea: it was in magnificent plumage and very fat. We next gave chase to a duck, which gave some trouble, as it constantly kept diving under the heavy seas near the shore: at last it took a long dive out to sea, and gave me the chance of a shot as it rose again on the summit of a swell, but dived again instantly as the shot lashed along the wave; when it rose again it was at a considerable distance, but the poor bird was evidently wounded: another shot and we succeeded in getting it. This duck was unlike any I have ever shot; its generic characters were those of the goldeneye, and I thought it might probably prove a young female of that species, although, on comparing it with stuffed specimens of female goldeneyes, it varied considerably

in plumage. I had then no good work of reference at hand to decide. On leaving Flamborough I left the duck at the residence of Mr. Bailey, bird-preserver, but without any particular orders respecting it. Mr. Bailey was from home at the time, not returning for some days; he has since written to inform me that he was unable to make out the species, and that he regretted very much the duck had been destroyed. On consulting Yarrell and other authorities I find the duck almost perfectly described as the female harlequin (Anas histrionica). I will briefly describe it, and leave the readers of the "Zoologist' to judge if I am correct in so calling it. Length about fourteen inches; wings short and pointed; two first primaries the longest, the first slightly exceeding the second. Bill bluish black; feet and legs the same colour as the bill, but with the webs much darker; irides brownish orange. The whole of the upper parts sooty brown, approaching to black; neck and breast mottled with two shades of brown; a spot on the forehead, also before and behind the eye, whitish gray; under parts white.

Two scoters, probably velvet, as they showed the white speculum in flight, next took our attention, but were far too wary to allow us to get within range. There were several redthroated divers in the bay, and one which, from its large size and appearance, must have been Colymbus glacialis. This bird led us a long chase, constantly diving, coming up again an immense distance a-head. A stern chase is proverbially a long chase, and so it proved in this instance, for the bird, by its wonderful diving powers, rapidly increased its distance, and forced us at last reluctantly to abandon the pursuit. The redthroated divers permitted a much nearer approach, never allowing us, however, to get within shot; just when a few more pulls would have brought them within range they would most provokingly rise and fly rapidly out to sea, neck and head stretched out, the back and tail forming the segment of a circle, their wings rapidly moving, and thus scuttle along scarcely raised above the waves. Observed flocks of ducks near the centre of the bay, but too far away to identify the species. A skua passed in chase of a kittiwake, and cormorants were continually passing and repassing us.

When about two miles to the right of the Head, and near the entrance of the Bay, we anchored the boat, and prepared the lines for fishing. I was surprised to see at this distance from the land, a lark singing high overhead, blithe and merry as when poised over an inland meadow. A "red admiral" butterfly passed flying towards the coast,

While at

and a single tern flew over, but far too high to identify. anchor in this position I noticed out to seaward several dark objects approaching, evidently birds; on a nearer approach they turned out a party of hooded crows: slowly and wearily they flew in a long straggling body; we watched them till lost behind the line of cliff. From the direction they came, nearly due east, the nearest land would be the coast of Holland, 230 miles distant. It is quite possible, however, they may have been driven far to the southward by the great storm from the north, which was at that time raging at sea along the north-eastern coast.

Up to this time (3 o'clock P.M.) I never remember a more lovely day for this season of the year. It was pleasantly warm, and the perfect stillness was ominous, unbroken save by the lap of the water against our boat, or the far-off cry of some diver; but the calm was delusive, and the weather rapidly changed. The wind suddenly chopped round into the north, and soon a heavy sea was breaking across the reef off the Head, the long lead-coloured swells rolling into the bay, ridge beyond ridge, as yet smoothly rounded and unbroken. The northeastern horizon was shut in by a lurid haze, from which long torn and ragged streaks of purple and gray vapour streamed upwards over half the heavens. We were tolerably fortunate with our fishing-lines, taking three or four species of fish, my companion capturing a fine shad, its stomach containing a crab, several shrimps and a handful of mussels, about an inch in length and unbroken. We were shown, when at Flamborough, by Mr. Duke, of the Thornwick Hotel, a pair of brassmounted spectacles, perfectly entire and in good condition, which were lately taken out of the stomach of a large cod-fish caught off the coast. Cormorants have occasionally been captured in the bay, by taking the bait on the fishing-lines: our boatman, Robert Crofton, of Flamborough, stated that he once captured two in one day, at a time when he had five fathoms, or thirty feet of line out. As the wind was rapidly rising, we pulled for the coast, throwing overboard the remains of our bait and the inside of the fish. Although no gulls were in sight at the time, yet in a few minutes we had numbers of them round the boat to pick up the floating offal: the vision of these birds must be wonderfully keen and far-sighted, for I noticed common, herring gulls and kittiwakes, coming from an immense distance, several of the latter flying across from the opposite side of the headland, probably attracted by perceiving an unusual assembly of their allies.

SECOND SERIES-VOL. I.

E

October 19. A furious gale from the north, driving before it, horizontally across the headland, perfect sheets of rain. At the north landing-place the scene was magnificent, as the mighty resistless waves came rolling in, line beyond line, white-crested to the very horizon, while clouds of wool-like masses of foam were driven far up the sides of the rugged cliffs, and, again caught and carried upwards by the wind, drifting far inward across the promontory like gigantic snow-flakes. In the midst of all this turmoil several noble herring gulls were hovering steadily over the bay, eagerly scanning the broken water for any fragments of floating matter, their wings perfectly motionless, and retaining their position seemingly with but little effort. We had a rough walk of seven miles along the cliffs, and it was often with the greatest difficulty that we kept on our legs. In crossing the little valley which leads down to Thornwick Bay, I put up from a patch of rushes close to the shore a shorteared owl, which went sailing up the valley with a buoyant gull-like flight. During our walk we found numbers of fieldfares and redwings crouched under shelter of the turf-wall, which is here carried along the edge of the rocks: these birds seemed incapable of facing the hurricane, which swept and howled over the lofty Speeton Cliffs as if determined to level everything before it they would permit us to get within a very short distance before rising, and then flutter forward under the walls. Woe to them if they rose ever so little above the friendly shelter, for the wind whirled them away literally like so many dead leaves. Even the rock pigeons, strong as they are on the wing, were often baffled in getting down to their sea cotes below: as they came in from the surrounding country they would fly low, often almost skimming the ground, and taking the shelter-side of any hedge-row in their line of flight to the coast. The sheltered line of the Dane's Dyke plantations was a much-frequented After clearing the edge of the cliffs, they nearly closed their wings and went down head foremost for hundreds of feet, like a cricket-ball falling, till level with the cave, when they would dash suddenly in. Often when rising to the summit, the wind would catch them, and they went drifting about across the face of the great limestone-wall, looking exactly like fragments of sea-weed, torn off by the wind, and frequently driven over the top, utterly unable to stem the force of the storm. We saw but few other birds during our walk, and only one cormorant, which was flying rapidly right in the very teeth of the gale, and at the height of about 500 feet above the sea. On our return I nearly succeeded in capturing two pipits, so utterly confused

route.