And, truly, there was ground for surprise.  The visitor found himself in a small but immensely high and brilliantly lighted cavern or natural chamber, the walls of which were adorned with drawings of scenery and trees and specimens of plants, while on various shelves stood innumerable stuffed birds, and shells, and other specimens of natural history.

A table and two chairs stood at one end of the cave, and, strangest of all, a small but well-filled book-case ornamented the other end.

“Arabian Nights!” thought Nigel.  “I must be dreaming.”

His wandering eyes travelled slowly round the cavern until they rested at last on the door by which they had entered, beside which stood the negro with a broad grin on his sable visage.

CHAPTER VII.

WONDERS OF THE HERMIT’S CAVE AND ISLAND.

The thing that perhaps surprised Nigel most in this strange cavern was the blaze of light with which it was filled, for it came down direct through a funnel-shaped hole in the high roof and bore a marvellous resemblance to natural sunshine.  He was well aware that unless the sun were shining absolutely in the zenith, the laws of light forbade the entrance of a direct ray into such a place, yet there were the positive rays, although the sun was not yet high in the heavens, blinding him while he looked at them, and casting the shadows of himself and his new friends on the floor.

There was the faintest semblance of a smile on the hermit’s face as he quietly observed his visitor, and waited till he should recover self-possession.  As for Moses—­words are wanting to describe the fields of teeth and gum which he displayed, but no sound was suffered to escape his magnificent lips, which closed like the slide of a dark lantern when the temptation to give way to feeling became too strong.

“My cave interests you,” said the hermit at last.

“It amazes me,” returned our hero, recovering himself and looking earnestly at his host, “for you seem not only to have all the necessaries of life around you in your strange abode, but many of the luxuries; among them the cheering presence of sunshine—­though how you manage to get it is beyond my powers of conception.”

“It is simple enough, as you shall see,” returned the hermit.  “You have heard of the saying, no doubt, that ’all things are possible to well-directed labour’?”

“Yes, and that ‘nothing can be achieved without it.’”

“Well, I have proved that to some extent,” continued the hermit.  “You see, by the various and miscellaneous implements on my shelves, that I am given to dabbling a little in science, and thus have made my lonely home as pleasant as such a home can be—­but let us not talk of these matters just now.  You must be hungry.  Have you had breakfast?”

“No, we have not—­unless, at least, you count a sea biscuit dipped in salt water a breakfast.  After all, that may well be the case, for hermits are noted for the frugality of their fare.”