an enemy on the land side. On our winding way to the summit,
or signal station, we often found the path lined with asphodel and
palmitos, while at the very top, where the signal sergeant has a small
house, was a pretty sheltered garden of pansies, tulips, pinks, and
roses, daintily arranged by some woman's hand. The remarkable view from
this elevation was of vast extent, and truly magnificent; especially to
seaward, where the straits were plentifully sprinkled with the white
wings of commerce, full-rigged ships assuming the proportions of
sea-gulls, and steamers only visible by the dark line of smoke trailing
in their wake. At the foot of the rock, on the Spanish side, lay the
town, a thick mass of yellow, white, and red houses; and nestling near
the shore was quite a fleet of shipping, looking like maritime toys. The
mountain ranges of Ceuta and Andalusia, on opposite continents, were
mingled with soft, overshadowing clouds, while over our heads was a
glorious dome of turquoise blue such as no temple reared by man could
imitate.

One of the few fragments of antiquity, which meets the eye of the
tourist at Gibraltar, is the remains of the ancient Moorish castle
located on the west side, about half way up the steep acclivity of the
fortifications. A crumbling wall extends, after a crooked fashion, down
from the main structure towards the shore. Where everything else is so
trim and orderly, this famous remnant of the barbaric ages seems
strangely out of place; but it would be a positive sacrilege to remove
it. It has stood some stout blows and heavy shot in its day, and they
have left their deep indentures on the moss-grown, crumbling stones. The
Moors held sovereignty over the Rock for more than seven hundred years,
and the old tower stands there as a sort of black-letter record of these
ages. The merciless finger of Time has been more fatal to it than shot
and shell.

We embarked on the small coasting steamer Leon Belge for a passage
across the Straits of Gibraltar, which separate Europe from Africa,
landing at Tangier, Morocco, the distance being some seventy or eighty
miles. The sea is always rough between the two continents, quite as much
so as in the channel between France and England. Our little craft was
neither very steady nor very dry under the experience. As we drew away
from the Spanish shore, the long range of Andalusian mountains stood
out, compact and clear, with their snow-white summits sparkling in the