The migratory movements of this bird seem to be differently managed in the spring and autumn. In the latter case, a great number of young Loons are seen to alight on the head waters of our great streams, on which, without much exertion, being aided by the current, they float along, diving at intervals in pursuit of the numerous fishes, as they proceed toward milder climes. The few old birds which, at a later date, appear on the same water-courses, frequently take to wing, and shorten their way by flying at a considerable elevation directly across the great bends or peninsulas. These modes of travelling are also adopted by those which advance along the Atlantic coasts, where, indeed, the birds have the double advantage of meeting with food and obtaining repose, on the rivers and on the sea. I think, however, that this maritime course is followed only by such of the Loons as have bred in the more immediate vicinity of the coast. But whether you are in the interior, or on the coast, it is seldom that you see at a time more than one Loon travelling at this season; whereas, in spring, they proceed in pairs, the male taking the lead, as is easily ascertained by observing that the bird in the rear is the smallest. Although, its wings are rather small, its flight is strong and rapid, so that it is enabled to traverse a large extent of country on wing. When travelling, or even when only raised from its nest, it moves through the air with all the swiftness of the other species of its tribe, generally passing directly from one point to another, however distant it may be. Its long transits are at times performed at so great an elevation, that its form can scarcely be distinguished, and yet, even then, in calm weather, the noise of its wings striking the air comes distinctly on your ear. I have seen them thus, on their way towards Labrador, passing over the head waters of the Bay of Fundy, to cross the Gulf of St Lawrence. Whenever it chances to alight on the water, in the course of its long journeys, it almost immediately dives, as if to taste the water, and judge whether it contains food suited to its appetite. On emerging, and after having somewhat raised the fore part of its body, shaken its wings, and by a strong shiver rearranged its plumage, it emits its loud echoing call-note, to induce, perchance, some traveller of its tribe to alight for awhile, that they may communicate to each other their experience of the past, or their hopes of the future. There is an absurd notion, entertained by persons unacquainted with the nature of this bird, that its plaintive cries are a sure indication of violent storms. Sailors, in particular, are ever apt to consider these call-notes as portentous. In the course of a voyage from Charleston to the Florida Keys, in May 1832, I several times saw and heard Loons travelling eastward; but, notwithstanding all the dire forebodings of the crew, who believed that a hurricane was