234 Letters, Extracts from Correspondence, Notices, ^c. 



panions who have passed the night in a neighbouring cave. 

 Meantime, however, a pillar of light has been shooting up from 

 the horizon, and at last the sun himself rushes from out the sea, 

 tipping all the waves with light. His rays have been gradually 

 spreading down from the mountain-tops over the olive-clad hills 

 and along the faces of the rocks, until at last they begin to enter 

 the cave. Then those of the Martins who have already seated 

 themselves on the outer parts of the cave fly forth together, with a 

 glad cry, into the sunshine, and chase the insects along the cliffs. 

 Still, however, some are left in the cave ; and often some of those 

 who first flew out return and nestle again against the warm rock. 

 Sooner or later, however, as the sun gains power, they all abandon 

 their night^s abode. 



Their proceedings vary a good deal according to the state of 

 the weather, especially depending upon the amount of light. I 

 will now give the result of the notes taken during one morning's 

 watching, which I think will serve as a fair sample of their 

 operations at this time of year. The morning of December 28, 

 1862, was fine and bright, and consequently the Martins were 

 rather early in moving. At 6.58 a.m., when I arrived, the 

 Martins appeared quiet and huddled together in the interior of 

 their cave. I believe that they then were in the position in 

 which they had passed the night. Soon after 7 they began to 

 move, many of them flying to and fro at the mouth of 

 the cave. This continued more or less for some time, some of 

 the birds flying out of the cave for short excursions, others going 

 out of sight round a corner of rock, partly, I believe, to visit 

 other Martins in other caves, but generally soon returning. By 

 7.20 they were more quiet, many being seated on the outer 

 ledges near the edges of the cave, some apparently dozing, but 

 most employed in preening their feathers. Soon after this 

 another lot of Martins arrive, apparently from another cave, 

 and nestle in with the rest. About 7.53, the rays of the sun 

 having then penetrated some way into the cave, some fifteen 

 birds leave it. These had been sitting near the outer edges 

 of the cave, where the sunlight first arrives. Soon after 8 

 I left the cave, up to which time a considerable number of 

 the birds had not yet taken their departure ; but, from the 



