12 A FAVOURITE HUNTiNG-GROUND. 
but diligent research at dead low-water, in the 
rock-pools, failed to discover the living fish; 
neither did the dredge ever bring one up, from 
deep or shallow water. The empty house, in 
this instance, was less desirable than a bad 
tenant, as the mansion without its liege lord was 
a useless ruin. 
Macauley’s Point, a long ridge of rocks 
running far out to sea, but bare at low-water, 
was a favourite hunting-ground of mine, the snug 
little rock-basins generally affording some novelty, 
left prisoner by the receding water. An unu- 
sually low tide disclosed a ridge of rocks I had 
never before seen, an opportunity for explora- 
tion not to be neglected. Clinging to the slippery 
wrack, and scrambling down a vertical ledge, I 
discovered a regular cave, its sides and floor 
literally covered with the strangest collection of 
marine wonders I had ever gazed on :— 
It was a garden still beyond all price; 
E’en yet it was a place of paradise. 
* * * * * * 
Here, too, were living flowers, 
Which, like a bud compacted, 
Their purple cups contracted, 
Now, in open blossom spread, 
Stretched, like green anthers, many a seeking head. 
Others, like the broad banana growing, 
Raised their long wrinkled leaves of purple hue, 
Like streamers wide outflowing.—Aehama. 
