No two sorts of birds practise quite the same sort of flight; the varieties are infinite; but
two classes may be roughly seen. Any shi that crosses the Pacific is accompanied for many
days by the smaller albatross, Which may keep company with the vessel for an hour without
visible or more than occasional movement of wing. The currents of air that the walls of the
ship direct upwards, as well as in the line of its course, are enough to give the great bird
with its immense wings sufficient sustenance and progress. The albatross is the king of
the gliders, the class of fliers which harness the air to their purpose, but must yield to
its opposition. In the contrary school, the duck is supreme. It comes nearer to the engines
with which man has 'conquered' the air, as he boasts. Duck, and like them the pigeons,
are endowed with such-like muscles, that are a good part of the weight of the bird, and
these will ply the short wings with such irresistible power that they can bore for long
distances through an opposing gale before exhaustion follows. Their humbler followers,
such as partridges, have a like power of strong propulsion, but soon tire. You may pick
them up in utter exhaustion, if wind over the sea has driven them to a long journey. The
swallow shares the virtues of both schools in highest measure. It tires not, nor does it boast
of its power; but belongs to the air, travelling it may be six thousand miles to and from its
northern nesting home, feeding its flown young as it flies, and slipping through we no longer
take omens from their flight on this side and that; and even the most superstitious villagers
no longer take off their hats to the magpie and wish it good-morning.