In the spring of 1811, on board of Capt. Scoresby’s ship, one of the harpooners struck a young whale, with the hope of its leading to the capture of its mother. Presently she arose close by his boat and seizing its young one dragged out nearly 100 fathoms of line with amazing swiftness. Again she arose to the surface, darted furiously on and appeared in great agony, seemingly regardless of the danger which surrounded her. At length one of the boats came near enough to throw a harpoon which hit, but did not hold; a second harpoon failed also, but the third was fastened; still she did not attempt to escape, but allowed other boats to approach so that in a few minutes three more harpoons were fastened, and in the course of an hour afterwards she was killed. Is it not extremely painful, William, to destroy an animal of so much affection for its young? There are also two enemies to the whale found in the sea, the Sword Fish and a cetaceous animal called by our fishermen the Killer. At the sight of the former the whale seems agitated in an extraordinary manner, leaping from the water as if with affright; wherever it appears, the whale perceives it at a distance, and flies from it in an opposite direction, and having no instrument of defence except its tail, it endeavors to strike it; but the Sword Fish is as active as the other is strong, and easily eludes the blow. It often cuts the whale in such a manner as to colour the water all around with blood. The Killer is a more destructive enemy, with strong and very powerful teeth. A number of these fish are said to surround the whale, some attacking it with their teeth behind, others before, till at last he dies from the loss of blood; and what is singular, my son, it is said that the tongue of the whale is the only part they devour. The whale is naturally a timid animal, for it is said that the Northern Petrel, a bird of the genus of the Mother Cary’s Chicken of our coasts, will sometimes alight upon its back, and set it off in great agitation and terror. It is also frequently annoyed by the larger species of Sharks, as the wounds sometimes found upon their tails evidently show. The flesh of the whale is highly prized by the Esquimaux, who not only eat the very fattest part, but will drink the oil with great relish; the children, also, devour the skin raw. Capt. Lyon, who was present at a feast in an Esquimaux village, says: “the houses were all lighted up with lamps, all the pots were filled with flesh, and the women, while cooking, pick out and devour the most dainty morsels. One man takes up a large piece, applies it to his mouth, and severs with his teeth as much as his mouth can possibly hold, then hands it to his neighbor, and he passes it to the next, till all is eaten; a new piece is then supplied, and thus it continues till they are completely gorged. A young man named Toolooak received into his stomach in 21 hours upwards of