EIDER-DUCK.

fine of thirty dollars; and the secreting of an egg, or the pocketing of a few downs, is punished with all the rigor of the law. The chief occupation of Mr. Stephenson, the aged proprietor of Videy, who dwells alone on the islet, is to examine through his telescope all the boats that approach, so as to be sure that there are no guns on board. During the breeding season no one is allowed to land without his special permission, and all noise, shouting, or loud speaking is strictly prohibited. But, in spite of these precautions, we

are informed by recent travellers that latterly the greater part of the ducks of Videy have been tempted to leave their old quarters for the neighboring Engey, whose proprietor hit upon the plan of laying hay upon the strand, so as to afford them greater facilities for nest-building. The eider-down is easily collected, as the birds are quite tame. The female having laid five or six pale greenish-olive eggs, in a nest thickly lined with her beautiful down, the collectors, after carefully removing the bird, rob the nest of its contents, after which they replace her. She then begins to lay afresh, though this time only three or four eggs, and again has recourse to the down on her body. But her greedy persecutors once more rifle her nest, and oblige her to line it for the third time. Now, however, her own stock of down is exhausted, and with a plaintive voice she calls her mate to her assistance, who willingly plucks the soft feathers from his breast to supply the deficiency. If the cruel robbery be again repeated, which in former times was frequently the case, the poor eider-duck abandons the spot, never to return, and seeks for a new home where she may indulge her maternal instinct undisturbed.

Mr. Shepherd thus describes his visit to Vigr, in the Isafjardardjup, one of the head-quarters of the eider-duck in the north of Iceland: "As the island was approached, we could see flocks upon flocks of the sacred birds, and could hear their cooings at a great distance. We landed on a rocky wave-worn shore, against which the waters scarcely rippled, and set off to investigate the island. The shore was the most wonderful ornithological sight conceivable. The ducks and their nests were everywhere in a manner that was quite alarming. Great brown ducks sat upon their nests in masses, and at every step started up from under our feet. It was with difficulty that we avoided treading on some of the nests. The island being but three-quarters of a mile in width, the opposite shore was soon reached. On the coast was a wall built of large stones, just above the high-water level, about three feet in height, and of considerable thickness. At the bottom, on both sides of it, alternate stones had been left out, so as to form a series of square compartments for the ducks to make their nests in. Almost every compartment was occupied; and, as we walked along the shore, a long line of ducks flew out one after another. The surface of the water also was perfectly white with drakes, who welcomed their brown wives with loud and clamorous cooing. When we arrived at the farmhouse we were

cordially welcomed by its mistress. The house itself was a great marvel. The earthern wall that surrounded it and the window embrasures were occupied by ducks. On the ground, the house was fringed with ducks. On the turf-slopes of the roof we could see ducks; and a duck sat in the scraper.

"A grassy bank close by had been cut into square patches like a chessboard (a square of turf of about eighteen inches being removed, and a hollow 'made), and all were filled with ducks. A windmill was infested, and so were all the outhouses, mounds, rocks, and crevices. The ducks were everywhere. Many of them were so tame that we could stroke them on their nests; and the good lady told us that there was scarcely a duck on the island which would not allow her to take its eggs without flight or fear. When she first became possessor of the island, the produce of down from the ducks was not more than fifteen pounds' weight in the year, but, under her careful nurture of twenty years, it had risen to nearly one hundred pounds annually. It requires about one pound and a half to make a coverlet for a single bed, and the down is worth from twelve to fifteen shillings per pound. Most of the eggs are taken and pickled for winter consumption, one or two only being left to hatch."

Though not so important as the eider, the other members of the duck family which during the summer season enliven the lakes and swamps of Iceland are very serviceable. On the Myvatn, or Gnat Lake, one of their chief places of resort, the eggs of the long-tailed duck, the wild duck, the scoter, the common goosander, the red-breasted merganser, the scaup-duck, etc., and other anserines are carefully gathered and preserved in enormous quantities for the winter, closely packed in a fine gray volcanic sand.

The wild swan is frequently shot or caught for his feathers, which bring in many a dollar to the fortunate huntsman. This noble bird frequents both the salt and brackish waters along the coast and the inland lakes and rivers, where it is seen either in single pairs or congregated in large flocks. To build its nest, which is said to resemble closely that of the flamingo, being a large mound, composed of mud, rushes, grass, and stones, with a cavity at top lined with soft down, it retires to some solitary, uninhabited spot. Much has been said in ancient times of the singing of the swan, and the beauty of its dying notes; but, in truth, the voice of the swan is very loud, shrill, and harsh, though when high in the air, and modulated by the winds, the note or whoop of an assemblage of them is not unpleasant to the ear. It has a peculiar charm in the unfrequented wastes of Iceland, where it agreeably interrupts the profound silence that reigns around.

The raven, one of the commonest land-birds in Iceland, is an object of aversion to the islanders, as it not only seizes on their young lambs and eider-ducks, but also commits great depredations among the fishes laid out to dry upon the shore. Poles to which dead ravens are attached, to serve as a warning to the living, are frequently seen in the meadows; and the Icelander is never so happy as when he has succeeded in shooting a raven. This, however, is no easy task, as no bird is more cautious, and its eyes are as sharp as those of the eagle. Of all Icelandic birds, the raven breeds the earliest, laying about the middle of March its five or six pale-green eggs, spotted with brown, in the inaccessible

crevices of rocks. Towards the end of June, Preyer saw many young ravens grown to a good size, and but little inferior to the old ones in cunning.

In the gloomy Scandinavian mythology the raven occupies a rank equal to that of the eagle in the more cheerful fables of ancient Greece. It was dedicated to Odin, who, as the traditional history of Iceland informs us, had two ravens, which were let loose every morning to gather tidings of what was going on in the world, and which on returning in the evening perched upon Odin's. shoulders to whisper the news in his ear; the name of one was Hugin, or spirit; of the other, Mumin, or memory. Even now many superstitious notions remain attached to the raven; for the Icelanders believe this bird to be not only acquainted with what is going on at a distance, but also with what is to happen in future, and are convinced that it foretells when any of the, family is about to die, by perching on the roof of the house, or wheeling round in the air with a continual cry, varying its voice in a singular and melodious manner.

The white-tailed sea-eagle is not uncommon in Iceland, where he stands in evil repute as a kidnapper of lambs and eider-ducks. He is sometimes found dead in the nets of the fishermen; for, pouncing upon a haddock or salmon, he gets entangled in the meshes, and is unable to extricate himself. The skins of the bird, which seems to attain a larger size than in Great Britain, most likely from being less disturbed by man, are sold at Reykjavik and Akureyre for from three to six rix-dollars.

The jyrfalcon (Falco gyrfalco), generally considered as the boldest and most beautiful of the falcon tribe, has its head-quarters in Iceland. As long as the noble sport of falconry was in fashion, for which it was highly esteemed, the trade in falcons was worth from 2000 to 3000 rix-dollars annually to the islanders, and even now high prices. are paid for it by English amateurs.

The rarest bird of Iceland, if not entirely extinct, is the Giant-auk, or Geirfugl. The last pair was caught about seventeen years ago near the Geirfuglaskers, a group of solitary rocks to the south of the Westman Isles, its only known habitat besides some similar cliffs on the north-eastern coast. Since that time it is said to have been seen by some fishermen ; but this testimony is extremely doubtful, and the question of its existence can only be solved by a visit to the Geirfuglaskers themselves -an undertaking which, if practicable at all, is attended with extreme difficulty and danger, as these rocks are completely isolated in the sea, which even in calm weather breaks with such violence against their abrupt declivities that for years it must be absolutely impossible to approach them.

THE JYRFALCON.

In 1858 two English naturalists determined at least to make the attempt, and settled for a season in a small hamlet on the neighboring coast, eager to

seize the first opportunity for storming the Geirfugl's stronghold. They waited for several months, but in vain, the stormy summer being more than usually unfavorable for their undertaking; and they were equally unsuccessful in the north, whither they had sent an Icelandic student specially instructed for the purpose. The giant-auk is three feet high, and has a black bill four inches and a quarter long, both mandibles being crossed obliquely with several ridges and furrows. Its wings are mere stumps, like those of the Antarctic penguins. Thirty pounds have been paid for its egg, which is larger than that of any other European bird; and there is no knowing the price the Zoological Society would pay for a live bird, if this truly "rara avis " could still be found.

The waters of Iceland abound with excellent fish, which not only supply the islanders with a great part of their food and furnish them with one of their chief articles of exportation, but also attract a number of foreign seamen. Thus about 300 French, Dutch, and Belgian fishing-sloops, manned with crews amounting in all to 7000 men, annually make their appearance on the southern and western coasts of Iceland, particularly those of the Guldbringe Syssel, or gold-bringing country: thus named, not from any evidence of the precious metal, but from the golden cod-harvests reaped on its shores. Between thirty and forty English fishing-smacks yearly visit the northern coast. When they have obtained a good cargo they run to Shetland to discharge it, and return again for more.

The Icelandic fishing-season, which begins in February and ends in June, occupies one-half of the male inhabitants of the island, who come flocking to the west, even from the remotest districts of the north and east, to partake of the rich harvest of the seas. Many thus travel for more than 200 miles in the midst of winter, while the storm howls over the naked waste, and the pale sun scarcely dispels for a few hours the darkness of the night. In every hut where they tarry on the road they are welcome, and have but rarely to pay for their

entertainment, for hospitality is still reckoned a duty in Iceland. On reaching the fishing-station, an agreement is soon made with the proprietor of a boat. They usually engage to assist in fishing from February 12 to May 12, and receive in return a share of the fish which they help to catch, besides forty pounds of flour and a daily allowance of sour curds, or "skier."

All the men belonging to a boat generally live in the same damp and narrow hut. At daybreak they launch forth, to brave for many hours the inclemencies of the weather and the sea, and while engaged in their hard day's work their sole refreshment is the chewing of tobacco or a mouthful of skier. On returning to their comfortless hut, their supper consists of the fishes of inferior quality they may have caught, or of the heads of the cod or ling, which are too valuable for their own consumption. These are split open and hung upon lines, or exposed on the shore to the cold wind and the hot sun; this renders them perfectly hard, and they keep good for years. In this dried state the cod is called stockfish. About the middle of May the migratory fishermen return to their homes, leaving their fish which are not yet quite dry to the care of the fishermen dwelling on the spot. Towards the middle of June, when the horses have so far recovered from their long winter's fast as to be able to bear a load, they come back to fetch their stockfish, which they convey either to their own homes for the consumption of their own families, or to the nearest port for the purpose of bartering it against other articles. Haddocks, flatfish, and herrings are also very abundant in the Icelandic seas; and along the northern and northwestern coasts the basking shark is largely fished for all the summer. Strong hooks baited with mussels or pieces of fish, and attached to chains anchored at a short distance from the shore, serve for the capture of this monster, which is scarcely, if at all, inferior in size to the white shark, though not nearly so formidable, as it rarely attacks man. The skin serves for making sandals; the coarse flesh is eaten by the islanders, whom necessity has taught not to be overnice in their food; and the liver, the most valuable part, is stewed for the sake of its oil.

"We had observed," says Mr. Shepherd, "that the horrible smell which infested Jsa-fjordr varied in intensity as we approached or receded from a certain black-looking building at the northern end of the town. On investigating this building, we discovered that the seat of the smell was to be found in a mass of putrid sharks' livers, part of which were undergoing a process of stewing in a huge copper. It was a noisome green mass, fearful to contemplate. The place was endurable only for a few seconds; yet dirty-looking men stirred up the mass with long poles, and seemed to enjoy the reeking vapors."

The salmon of Iceland, which formerly remained undisturbed by the phleg matic inhabitants, are now caught in large numbers for the British market. A small river bearing the significant name of Laxaa, or Salmon River, has been rented for the trifling sum of £100 a year by an English company, which sends every spring its agents to the spot well provided with the best fishing apparatus. The captured fish are immediately boiled, and hermetically packed in tin boxes, so that they can be eaten in London almost as fresh as if they had just been caught.