tnesses of the curious behaviour of
another Fuegian fishing-bird--the cormorant.

One of these birds, seemingly regardless of their presence, has come
close to the ledge where the boat is lying, and has there caught a fish.
But instead of gobbling it up or tearing it to pieces, as might be
expected, the captor lets it go again, not involuntarily, but, as soon
appears, designedly. The fish, alive and apparently uninjured, makes
away through the water; but only for a short distance, ere it is
followed by the cormorant and caught afresh. Then it is dropped a
second time, and a third time seized, and so on through a series of
catchings and surrenderings, just like those of a cat playing with a
mouse.

In this case, however, the cruel sport has a different termination, by
the cormorant being deprived of the prey it seemed so sure of. Not
through the efforts of the fish itself, which now, badly damaged, swims
but feebly; nor do the gulls appropriate it, but a wingless biped--no
other than Ned Gancy.

"Chester, we shall have that fish for breakfast," he says, springing to
his feet, and hastily stripping for a swim. Then, with a rush over the
ledge, he plunges in, sending the cormorant off in affright, and taking
possession of the prey it has left behind.

The fish proves to be a species of smelt, over two pounds in weight, and
a welcome addition to their now greatly reduced larder.

As they have passed a restful night, all the members of the forlorn
little party are up betimes; and soon "the doctor" is bestirring himself
about their breakfast, in which the cormorant-caught fish is to play a
conspicuous part.

The uprising sun reveals the landscape in a changed aspect, quite
different from that seen at its setting, and even more surprisingly
picturesque. The snowy mantle of Mount Darwin is no longer pure white,
but of hues more attractive--a commingling of rose and gold; while the
icicled cliffs on the opposite side of the cove, with the facades of
glaciers, show every tint of blue from pale sky to deep beryl, darkening
to indigo and purple in the deep sea-water at their bases. It is, or
might be called, the iridescence of a land with rocks all opals, and
trees all evergreens; for the dullest verdure here seems vivid by
contrast with its icy and snowy surroundings.

"Oh, mamma! isn't it glorious?" exclaims Leoline, as she looks around
upon the wonderful landscape. "It beats Niagara! If I only had my box
of colo