i68 
NATURE NOTES 
and stalagmites of carbonate of lime formed by water charged 
with carbonic acid dissolving the lime in some of the rocks, and 
then on evaporation the lime is left in the solid state, depending 
trom the roof or covering the floor. Here and there we find 
plants of that lovely fern, the sea spleenwort, with its fresh, 
glossy fronds contrasting with the bright golden tint of the 
fructification. It never in this part of the world attains the size 
it does in the south and west. On the same rock we see the 
sea wormwood, one of the prizes of the day, a relation of the 
common wormwood. In former days Berwickshire, like many 
other places, must have been much more densely clothed with 
wood than now ; and we see a relic of that old time in the aspen 
growing out of the cliff, with its leaves twinkling and trembling 
in the sun. One of our old ballads, in describing utter stillness 
and quiet, the stillness of death, says, “ the aspen grey forgot to 
play, and the mist clung to the hill.” It is seldom given to any 
of us to see this, but it is true to nature all the same, and proves 
that the unknown composer of the song was one of the high 
priests of Nature. 
In the rock we observe now and then rough nodules of the 
magnetic oxide of iron, very probably with a trace of titanium, 
but that can only be determined indoors. In due time we 
stumble on the curious little harbour of the cove, which sud- 
denly comes into view like a transformation scene, surrounded 
by cliffs on every side, many of the rocks being of most fantastic 
forms, carved out by the storms of ages ; and the first thing the 
stranger asks himself is, how did the people get in and how am 
I to get out ; for it would tax the grit of the best climber to find 
a way up the cliff. However, we come in due course to a 
solution of the mystery. Taking advantage of a sea cave, the 
natives of a former age have bored through the cliff, which is an 
easily worked sandstone, and the cart-road now passes down 
through the rocks and on to the little harbour, the only one on a 
long and dangerous line of coast. Climbing up we see daylight 
again, the blue sky, the primroses glittering in the sun, the long 
line of iron cliffs, the merciless foe of many a gallant ship, and 
the “ unbeginning, endless sea,” to-day an emerald, to-morrow 
black as the robes of Fate herself! Presently we came on a 
multitude of the Burnet moth in its dark green velvet mantle 
slashed with crimson silk, and close by on the stems of the 
grass its curious paper-like cocoons from which it has only 
recently emerged. Indeed, if you only pause to observe, you may 
see its first introduction to light and air. Meantime, as man is 
a feeding as well as an observing animal, we may take our lunch, 
for somehow the sea air helps to remind us that lunch time has 
passed long ago. 
Having learned something of the life history of the Burnet as 
well as helped our own, we “ make tracks ” for the long reefs 
and ledges laid bare by the sea. In some of them we may see the 
work of the strange pholas, and if you can keep silence in your 
