My specimens were procured from the Galapagos Archipelago. It is well known to be an inhabitant of the seas in the warmer latitudes over the whole world. The Rocks of St. Paul’s, nearly under the equator, in the Atlantic ocean, were almost covered with the rude and simple nests of this bird, made with a few pieces of sea-weed. The females were sitting upon their eggs (in February), and by the side of many of their nests, parts of flying-fish were placed, I suppose, by the male bird for his partner to feed on during the labour of incubation. PHALACROCORAX CARUNCULATUS. _Stephens._ Phalacrocorax carunculatus, _Steph._ Gen. Zool. Pelecanus carunculatus, _Gm._ Syst. i. 576. Phalacrocorax imperialis, _King_, Zool. Proc. vol. i. pt. 1. 30. I procured a specimen of this bird at Port St. Julian, on the coast of Patagonia, where, during January, many were building. I merely mention it here, for the purpose of describing the singularly bright colours of the naked skin about its head. Skin round the eyes “campanula blue;” cockles at the base of the upper mandible, “saffron mixed with gamboge yellow.” Marks between the eye and the corner of the mouth, “orpiment orange;” tarsi scarlet. FREGATA AQUILA. _Cuv._ Pelecanus Aquilus, _Linn._ I had an opportunity, at the Galapagos Archipelago, of watching, on several occasions, the habits of this bird, which are very interesting in relation to its peculiar structure. The Frigate bird, when it sees any object on the surface of the water, descends from a great height, in an inclined plane, head foremost, with the swiftness of an arrow; and at the instant of seizing with its long beak and outstretched neck, the floating morsel, it turns upwards, with extraordinary dexterity, by the aid of its forked tail, and long, powerful wings. It never touches the water with its wings, or even with its feet; indeed I have never heard of one having been seen on the surface of the sea; and it appears that the deeply indented web between its toes is of no more use to it, than are the shrivelled wings beneath the wing cases of some coleopterous beetles. The Frigate bird has a noble appearance when seen soaring in a flock at a stupendous height (at which time it merits the name of the Condor of the ocean), or when many together are dashing, in complicated evolutions, but with the most admirable skill, at the same floating object. They seem to scorn to take their food quietly, for between each descent they raise themselves on high, and descend again with a swift and true aim. If the object (such as offal thrown overboard) sink more than six or eight inches beneath the surface, it is lost to the Frigate bird. I was informed at Ascension, that when the little turtles break through their shells, and run to the water’s edge, these birds attend in numbers, and pick up the little animals (being thus very injurious to