Toward noon a faint air crinkled the sea astern and wind pressure lifted the languid mainsheet from the water. Headed N by E we left Cape Cod beach. The breeze increased until we were logging five knots with spinnaker off to port. Under its curving foot I saw four NORTHERN PHALAROPES swimming, with that jaunty air they have, out of the sloop's course. A flash of gleaming silver, a circle of foam and only three birds flew westward with faint frightened protests.

"Did you see that? — A bluefish got one!" exclaimed the mate.

All life may have risen from the sea but death lurks there too.

Steering the "Phalarope" north over that August sea, I wondered how many of the sloop's namesakes were lost in that manner when they migrated in thousands up and down the Atlantic Coast waters. Nelson says they are numerous on the Arctic shores; there, with scarcely a ripple, float these charming and graceful birds. Apparently guided by fancy they drift over the pool like an Autumn leaf. The delicate tints of its slender agile form combine grace and color with dainty elegance of motion, and render it most lovely and attractive.

A female coyly glides close to a dull-colored male. He moves off but she follows with proudly arched neck. He is her choice. In vain he turns, seeking escape, but his wooer is always just in front, and presently they are comfortably married!