48 THE BIRD WATCHER 
more particularly FF oi some very florid drop- 
scene. These colours are due to some low form of 
vegetation which is spread like a wash over the face 
of the stratified rock, but it seems surprising, since 
one 1s accustomed to associate colour with light, that 
in the absence of all sun they should not only exist, 
but be so very brilliant. I have never seen anything 
like such vivid hues on the surface of rock or cliff 
exposed to the light of day, nor, indeed, in any land- 
scape, if flowers and the autumn tints of leaves are 
excluded. Gaudily painted stage scenery, some en- 
chanted or robber’s cavern in a pantomime—Ali 
Baba’s, for instance—is really the best comparison 
I can think of, nor shall I ever again think these 
exaggerated. Nature is really harder to outdo or 
burlesque than one may fancy—even on the stage, 
where the effort is so constantly, and, one would 
swear, successfully made. 
In shape these caverns are long and narrow— 
throatal, one might call them—and the sea, with the 
many weird and uncouth noises that it makes as it 
licks, tongue-like, in and out of them, helps to suggest 
this resemblance. Though their height is really but 
moderate, yet, owing to the narrowness of their walls, 
they have the appearance of being lofty, especially 
near the entrance, or where, after descending till it 
nearly reaches the water, the roof is suddenly carried 
up again. For the most part, however, the height 
decreases gradually, with the breadth, till at length 
the cave ends in a low, dark tunnel, which the sea 
