I continue my way through the pillars to the extremity of the cavern.
No one has sought to stop me, no one has spoken to me, not a soul
apparently has taken the very slightest notice of me. This portion of
Back Cup is extremely curious, and comparable to the most marvellous
of the grottoes of Kentucky or the Balearics. I need hardly say that
nowhere is the labor of man apparent. All this is the handiwork of
nature, and it is not without wonder, mingled with awe, that I reflect
upon the telluric forces capable of engendering such prodigious
substructions. The daylight from the crater in the centre only strikes
this part of the cavern obliquely, so that it is very imperfectly
lighted, but at night, when illuminated by the electric lamps, its
aspect must be positively fantastic.
I have examined the walls everywhere with minute attention, but have
been unable to discover any means of communicating with the outside.
Quite a colony of birds--gulls, sea-swallows and other feathery
denizens of the Bermudan beaches have made their home in the cavern.
They have apparently never been hunted, for they are in no way
disturbed by the presence of man.
But besides sea-birds, which are free to come and go as they please
by the orifice in the dome, there is a whole farmyard of domestic
poultry, and cows and pigs. The food supply is therefore no less
assured than it is varied, when the fish of all kinds that abound in
the lagoon and around the island are taken into consideration.
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