60 SUMMER 



against the high circling walls, was the deep, men- ,' 

 'acing grumble of the bellowing sea-lions, as, through j 

 v "the muffle of surf and sea-fowl, herd after herd lum- l : 

 bered headlong into the foam. fr* 



It was a strange, wild scene. Hardly a mile from] v 

 the Oregon coast, but cut off by breaker and bar v 

 from the abrupt, uninhabited shore, the three rocks V 

 of the Reservation, each pierced with its resounding ". 

 arch, heaved their huge shoulders from the waves >- 

 straight up, high, towering, till our little steamer .. 

 coasted their dripping sides like some puffing pygmy. *i/ 



Each rock was perhaps as large as a solid city ^ 

 square and as high as the tallest of sky-scrapers ; 

 , immense, monstrous piles, each of them, and run* 

 through by these great caverns or arches, dim, drip- 

 ping, filled with the noise of the waves and the beat 

 of thousands of wings. 



They were of no part or lot with the dry land. Their 

 ;V wave-scooped basins were set with purple starfish and, 

 filled with green and pink anemones, and beaded^ 

 >' many deep with mussels of amethyst and jet that' 

 glittered in the clear beryl waters ; and, above thel 

 jeweled basins, like fabled beasts of old, lay the sea-' 

 lions, uncouth forms, flippered, reversed in shape,, 

 with throats like the caves of ^Eolus, hollow, hoarse, 

 discordant; and higher up, on every jutting bench' 

 and shelf, in every weathered rift, over every jog of 

 the ragged cliffs, to their bladed backs and pointed 

 peaks, swarmed the sea-birds, webf ooted, amphibious, 





