Extract of a letter from Mull, one of the Western islands in Scotland, dated June 29.
"On the 26th instant our neighbour Colin Muir Campbell, his son, myself, and a few other friends, making a party of pleasure, went in our boat to the island of Coll, in order to go a fowling among the rocks, when Mr. Campbell's son, who had mounted almost on the top of a rope-ladder, in order to examine some holes wherein several large fowls, as big as geese, had nestled, as he was reaching out his hand in order to lay hold of one, the bird discharged near a pint of oil in his face, which blinded him so, that losing his hold, he fell down, and was killed on the spot.
Another of our friends too, who was beginning to mount the ladder just before this melancholy accident happened, was thrown down, and broke his arm by the shoulder-bone, besides which he was otherwise much bruised.
These birds are near as big as a swan; they are so rank that nobody eats them, but are sought after for their oil, according to their bigness, they containing from a pint to a quart of this liquor in them: and if the person that goes to take them happens not to seize them properly, they discharge it upon him out of their throat, and by that means often save themselves from being taken."
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