bling from ledge to ledge like the steps of a colossal
staircase. Fortunately I struck the deep channel--my only safe course. I
was covered with foam and spray and could not see. All I could do was
to trust to Providence and the depth of water, and I shortly found
myself twisting around in a great pool below. Half stunned and almost
smothered by frequent submerging and the weight of the volume of water
that had fallen on me, I drifted helplessly toward the bank. The next
thing I remembered was hearing sounds above me and a hand reaching down
and grasping me, while a voice in French said:

"You live!"

"It's about all I do," was my answer.

Then strong arms hauled me out on the bank. The one who had addressed me
was a priest, and through the midst of a madly excited crowd he
escorted me up the street to the palace of the archbishop, a quaint old
building, almost in ruins. Here every possible kindness was extended
from the civil, military and religious authorities. At the banquet
tendered me I was dressed in a suit of clothes half clerical, half
military; but I enjoyed it as well as my tired bones would permit. I
excused myself as early as I could and went to bed with the intention of
making a start in the morning; but when morning came I felt so broken
up and sore that I concluded to remain over and rest a day.

I was taken in hand by some of the prominent people and shown the places
of interest in the village. Among those visited and one that greatly
interested me, was the olive mills. The town is noted for the production
of a superior olive oil; but the mode of producing it is most
primitive, being almost the same as that used by the Moors hundreds of
years ago. They first place the round, green olives in sacks that are
then set in a large stone bowl into which a flat cover lifts. An old
time screw with beam attachment presses on the stone cover, and as an
ass, hitched to the end of the beam, tramps wearily round and round the
screw presses the stone tight on the olives, squeezing the oil into
cemented grooves at the bottom of the bowl through which it flows into
casks. The refuse, or pummies, as we would call them, is fed to the
hogs and cattle. It struck me at the time that with our improved
American machinery, we could extract about four times as much oil out of
the pummies thrown away, as they got out at the first pressing.

"Another place I visited under the escort of the go