234 Letters , Extracts from Correspondence , Notices , fyc. 
panions who have passed the night in a neighbouring cave. 
Meantime, however, a pillar of light has been shooting up from 
the horizon, and at last the sun himself rushes from out the sea, 
tipping all the waves with light. His rays have been gradually 
spreading down from the mountain-tops over the olive-clad hills 
and along the faces of the rocks, until at last they begin to enter 
the cave. Then those of the Martins who have already seated 
themselves on the outer parts of the cave fly forth together, with a 
glad cry, into the sunshine, and chase the insects along the cliffs. 
Still, however, some are left in the cave; and often some of those 
who first flew out return and nestle again against the warm rock. 
Sooner or later, however, as the sun gains power, they all abandon 
their night’s abode. 
Their proceedings vary a good deal according to the state of 
the weather, especially depending upon the amount of light. I 
will now give the result of the notes taken during one morning’s 
watching, which I think will serve as a fair sample of their 
operations at this time of year. The morning of December 28, 
1862, was fine and bright, and consequently the Martins were 
rather early in moving. At 6.58 a.m., when I arrived, the 
Martins appeared quiet and huddled together in the interior of 
their cave. I believe that they then were in the position in 
which they had passed the night. Soon after 7 they began to 
move, many of them flying to and fro at the mouth of 
the cave. This continued more or less for some time, some of 
the birds flying out of the cave for short excursions, others going 
out of sight round a corner of rock, partly, I believe, to visit 
other Martins in other caves, but generally soon returning. By 
7.20 they were more quiet, many being seated on the outer 
ledges near the edges of the cave, some apparently dozing, but 
most employed in preening their feathers. Soon after this 
another lot of Martins arrive, apparently from another cave, 
and nestle in with the rest. About 7.53, the rays of the sun 
having then penetrated some way into the cave, some fifteen 
birds leave it. These had been sitting near the outer edges 
of the cave, where the sunlight first arrives. Soon after 8 
I left the cave, up to which time a considerable number of 
the birds had not yet taken their departure, but, from the 
