“But that was not all,” continued Mr. Russell; “the birds that had been so unceremoniously tumbled off, soon returned and settled on the heads of those that had taken their places; slipping down behind them till they gained a footing on the rocks, and obliged those before them to tumble off in their turn. You may easily imagine what a noise all this caused, particularly among the Puffins. These little fellows as they sat upright on the rocks, turned their heads, sharply, first on one side, and then on the other, as if they were scolding and chattering at their disturbers; and, as they have white cheeks with a black hood, which looks as if it was tied under the chin, they had the appearance of a number of old women met to gossip. A few delicately white Kittiwakes, which looked like the young ladies of the party, were perched on some of the projecting crags; and here and there was a Cormorant standing, stern and upright, like a black sentinel, and quite alone. These birds were very striking, from their black hue contrasting with the white cliffs; but I cannot say that I much admire them. I think the Razor-bills are the handsomest of all the Isle of Wight birds; as they have snow-white breasts, and black heads and backs. But, as to their cries, I really don’t know which is the worst. Such a horrible clatter surely never can be heard any where else.’” “I can easily conceive that,” said Mrs. Merton, “from what we heard of these birds ourselves.” “Oh! but that could have been nothing to what we heard,” said Mr. Russell. “The fisherman told me to fire: I did so; and all the previous din was quiet compared to the uproar which ensued. The sky was positively darkened with the multitude of birds that rose from the cliffs; and their wild screams and cries were hideous beyond description. But the most extraordinary part of the whole was, that though I fired so close that my shot touched the plumage of several of the birds, not one was killed.” “How could that be?” asked Mrs. Merton. “The fact is,” replied Mr. Russell, “that the feathers on the necks and breasts of these sea-birds are closely matted together, and form a covering, so smooth and compact, that the shots glance off instead of penetrating it. The fisherman laughed at my astonishment when I saw the birds I had hit fly away; and told me that the only way to shoot a sea-bird was to get behind it. I profited by this advice, and soon contrived to shoot all the birds I wanted, except a Cormorant; and that I have come on land to shoot.” “But why did you not shoot one from the water?” asked Mrs. Merton.