continued, and so the operation of feeding was carried on till the
young one was satisfied; but what she fed her little one with, we
could not tell.

"Now, just look yonder!" said Peterkin, in an excited tone; "if
that isn't the most abominable piece of maternal deception I ever
saw. That rascally old lady penguin has just pitched her young one
into the sea, and there's another about to follow her example."

This indeed seemed to be the cue, for, on the top of a steep rock
close to the edge of the sea, we observed an old penguin
endeavouring to entice her young one into the water; but the young
one seemed very unwilling to go, and, notwithstanding the
enticements of its mother, moved very slowly towards her. At last
she went gently behind the young bird and pushed it a little
towards the water, but with great tenderness, as much as to say,
'Don't be afraid, darling! I won't hurt you, my pet!' but no
sooner did she get it to the edge of the rock, where it stood
looking pensively down at the sea, than she gave it a sudden and
violent push, sending it headlong down the slope into the water,
where its mother left it to scramble ashore as it best could. We
observed many of them employed in doing this, and we came to the
conclusion that this is the way in which old penguins teach their
children to swim.

Scarcely had we finished making our remarks on this, when we were
startled by about a dozen of the old birds hopping in the most
clumsy and ludicrous manner towards the sea. The beach, here, was
a sloping rock, and when they came to it, some of them succeeded in
hopping down in safety, but others lost their balance and rolled