260 THE BIRDS or lONA AND MULL. 



the interior are smooth and destitute of the orderly and elegant forms 

 which produce so powerful an effect in Fingal's Cave. The interior, 

 however, is not without a certain kind of impressive grandeur, arising 

 less from a sense of magnitude than from the sombre depth of shade 

 in some parts of the cave, contrasting with the pleasing effects of the 

 light thrown in upon others. In some of the recesses the gloom is so 

 deep that the movement of the oar excites the phosphorescent gleam 

 of the floating medusse, as in the sea during the darkness of night. 

 The vaulted roof echoes to the slightest sound, and reverberates like 

 thunder to the discharge of firearms. The crevices of the rock are the 

 resort of the cormorant, which, during the season of incubation, is seen 

 with its dusky form, crested poll, yellow face, and hooked bill, sitting 

 with imperturbable gravity on its eggs, or watching its callow young 

 amidst such a scene of confusion and excitement as we have witnessed 

 in the cave when its solitude was invaded by a party of adventurous 

 sportsmen, and the echoes rang to the quick discharge of their fowling- 

 pieces, when the firm-footed islanders clambered to dizzy heights to 

 bring down the prey from the crags, and shouting boatmen strove with 

 oar and boat-hook to secure some wounded bird as it swooped down 

 from the rocks into the water and struggled for dear life.'' 



The proper season for visiting these caves is wheii the young are 

 full-fledged, fat, and strong ; and the proper time is just before sunset, 

 for the scart is an early bird, and before the sun has dipped they come 

 streaming home from their fishing grounds to roost the night within 

 the gloomy recesses of their favourite caves, and may be waylaid at 

 the entrance. Before coming home for the night their favourite habit 

 is to rest themselves, perched on an isolated rook, not much raised 

 above the level of the waves which surround it, and sit in small parties, 

 still, sombre, and sedate, perfectly upright, so as to look like rows of 

 long-necked black bottles basking in the last rays of the sinking sun. 

 At such a time you may sail down upon them, keeping very still and 

 quiet in the boat. As she begins to get within range, the gloomy, 

 imperturbable coterie show signs of uneasiness by writhing and twisting 

 their necks, gazing with alternate eyes, and shuffling nearer the edge 

 of the rock, but still they hold their ground till the fatal discharge 

 rings out over the water, and in the twinkling of an eye the whole 

 lot drop as one bird plumb into the water, without making splash or 

 ripple. When this happens for the first time to a stranger, it brings 



