This ſanguine little king's-fiſher (not preſcient of the ſtorm, as by his inſtinct he ought to be) appearing at that uncertain ſeaſon, before the riggs of Old Michaelmas were yet well compoſed, and when the inclement ſtorms of winter were approaching, began to flicker over the ſeas and was buſy in building it's halcyon neſt as if the angry ocean had been ſoothed by the genial breath of May.