There is a small Island in Lancashire called the Pile of Foulders, where the broken pieces of old and buried shipwrecks are found, and also the trunks with branches of old rotten trees, on which is found a certain froth. In time it breeds a certain shell in the shape of a mussel, but with a sharper point, and whitish in colour. It contains a form like a lace of finely woven silk and of a whitish colour. One end is attached to the belly of a mass or lump, which in time comes to shape the form of a bird. When it is perfectly formed, the shell gapes open and the first thing that appears is the aforementioned lace. Next comes the legs of the bird hanging out, and as it grows greater, it opens the shell by degrees until it all comes out and hangs solely by the bill. In a short time it comes to full maturity, smaller than a goose and having black legs and bill or beak, and feathers spotted black and white like the Magpie. The people of Lancashire call it by no other name than a tree goose.

I brought back many of these shells with me to London, which I had opened and found living things without form or shape. In the ones that were closer to ripeness I found living things that were very naked in the shape of birds. In others, the birds were covered in a soft down, the shells half opened and the bird ready to fall out, which were no doubt the souls called Barnakles.