1 8 ON THE BIRDS' HIGHWAY 



and other sea-fowl. Rounding the point, 

 I entered the sand dunes back, of the sec- 

 ond beach in hope of seeing a short-eared 

 or snowy owl. Hanging Rock 

 stood out against the sky, a 

 bold bit of Nature's stone- 

 work. Bishop Berkeley is said 

 to have written his sermons in 

 the hollow of this rock; it 

 stands two hundred yards back 

 of the beach with the dunes 

 stretching between; we find 

 among the Bishop's writings 

 that the ocean broke at his feet and the 

 sandhills that to-day roll to its base are 

 evidence of the truth of his words. Not 

 an owl did we meet in the dunes, or a 

 snow bunting or a shore lark on our way 

 back along the beach. 



Among the junipers in the steep eastern 

 slope of Mount Hope, where the wind 

 did not reach and the sun lay, on the 

 morning of the twelfth, three crossbills 

 wandered and a flock of myrtle warblers 

 "chucked" as I stumbled through the 

 underbrush. Terrace after terrace of 

 quartz robed in moss formed the descent 

 to the clearing. 



