But our upward march
was soon stopped at a height of about two hundred and fifty feet
by impassable obstacles. There was a complete vaulted arch
overhanging us, and our ascent was changed to a circular walk.
At the last change vegetable life began to struggle with the mineral.
Some shrubs, and even some trees, grew from the fractures of the walls.
I recognised some euphorbias, with the caustic sugar coming
from them; heliotropes, quite incapable of justifying their name,
sadly drooped their clusters of flowers, both their colour
and perfume half gone. Here and there some chrysanthemums grew
timidly at the foot of an aloe with long, sickly-looking leaves.
But between the streams of lava, I saw some little violets still
slightly perfumed, and I admit that I smelt them with delight.
Perfume is the soul of the flower, and sea-flowers have no soul.
We had arrived at the foot of some sturdy dragon-trees,
which had pushed aside the rocks with their strong roots,
when Ned Land exclaimed:
"Ah! sir, a hive! a hive!"
"A hive!" I replied, with a gesture of incredulity.
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