28 THE SOUTHERN CLIFFS 



the winter months, but the cliffs are silent and deserted, 

 except by the cormorants and roosting sea-gulls. The 

 puffins, the most numerous and amusing of the cliff 

 tribes, have flown away to the Mediterranean, and the 

 dizzy ledges of the cliffs on which the " sea-parrots " 

 screamed and jostled and brought up their families 

 during the spring are silent and deserted. On the last 

 day but one of the old year there was not a sea-bird on 

 the line of chalk precipices which runs out from Fresh- 

 water Gate to Sun Corner, near the Needles. The 

 gulls were all away at the sprat and herring fishery, and 

 the guillemots and razor-bills were out at sea, and 

 would not return before night. Yet the day was one 

 to tempt the fowl to leave the water and bask on the 

 warm face of these southern cliffs. The summit of the 

 down rose 600 feet above the water, clear of all 

 clouds and frost-fog, into the light of the winter sun, 

 which was shining in a broad lane of silver across the 

 grey sea, and covered the face of the long line of 

 bastions of chalk with a steamy haze. Flocks of star- 

 lings were feeding on the fine turf which clothes the 

 down, and a brace of partridges rose from the verge of 

 the cliff beyond the beacon. A pair of ravens were the 

 only tenants of the awful precipice, which falls sheer 

 down to the sea at this point. They soared level with 

 the summit, one bird just above the other, in flight so 

 evenly matched and uniform, that their movements 

 seemed guided by a single will. Sometimes the bird 

 above would even touch its mate, and the pair fall 

 toppling down a hundred feet croaking loudly. After 



