marvellous speed and unerring certainty. In this chase of fish it sometimes comes to grief by getting entangled in the drift-nets. The Guillemot is a remarkably silent bird. I have repeatedly been amongst thousands of these birds, both at sea and on the rock stacks where they breed, and the only sound I have ever heard them utter is a low, grunting noise. My experience has been chiefly confined to the earlier part of the breeding season, and the autumn and winter months. It would appear, though, that when the young are partly grown the birds become more noisy, for Gätke describes their cries at the breeding-stations as a “confused noise of a thousand voices, the calls of the parent birds—_arr-r-r-r_, _orr-r-r-r_, _err-r-r-r_, and mingled with these the countless tiny voices of their young offspring on the face of the cliff—_irr-r-r-idd_, _irr-r-r-idd_—uttered in timid and anxious accents.” I should here remark that the Guillemot never flies over the land, never flies inland from the rocks, but always when disturbed unerringly makes for the sea, which is almost, if not quite, as much its element as the air. The actions of the Guillemot are interesting enough upon the sea, few sights being prettier than a number of these birds busily engaged in capturing their finny food; but the most attractive scenes in the life of this bird are to be witnessed at its breeding places. Formerly these were much more numerous than is now the case, especially in England, but there, on the southern coast line notably so, many a large colony has disappeared for ever, and many another has been sadly reduced in numbers. The distribution of the Guillemot becomes much more local during summer, the birds crowding in vast numbers to certain time-honoured spots. Fortunately some of these still remain fairly accessible to the lover of birds. One of the most famous breeding stations is at the Farne Islands; another on the cliffs at Bempton; whilst less noted places are in the Isle of Wight, the Scilly Islands, and the coasts of Devon and Cornwall. The great number of local names by which the Guillemot is known round our coasts speak to its former abundance; Lavy, Marrock, Murre, Diver, and Willock—the latter applicable to the young—may be mentioned as a few of the best known. The birds congregate at their old accustomed haunts in Spring, with remarkable regularity, often punctually arriving on the same day for years in succession. At Heligoland, and certainly other places, Guillemots return to their nesting places from time to time during the winter, appearing in the morning for a little while, just as Rooks are wont to do at the nest trees. The Guillemot rears its young on the face of the lofty ocean cliffs, or on the flat tops of rock stacks. Cliffs with plenty of ledges and hollows are preferred, and in such chosen spots the birds crowd so closely that, at some stations, the wonder is how each individual can possibly find room to incubate its egg, or even