r the potent
presence of the guide, who is always beneath me, ready to be fallen
upon. Sometimes, when I am holding on with all the necessary tenacity of
grip, as regards my hands, but, "scrambling my toes about" in a very
disorderly and unworkmanlike fashion, he pops his head up from below for
me to sit on; and puts my feet into crevices for me, with many apologies
for taking the liberty! Sometimes, I fancy myself treading on what feels
like soft turf; I look down, and find that I am standing like an acrobat
on his shoulders, and hear him civilly entreating me to take hold of his
jacket next, and let myself down over his body to the ledge where he is
waiting for me. He never makes a false step, never stumbles, scrambles,
hesitates, or fails to have a hand always at my service. The nautical
metaphor of "holding on by your eyelids" becomes a fact in his case. He
really views his employer, as porters are expected to view a package
labelled "_glass with care_." I am firmly persuaded that he could take a
drunken man up and down Asparagus Island, without the slightest risk
either to himself or his charge; and I hold him in no small admiration,
when, after landing on the sand with something between a tumble and a
jump, I find him raising me to my perpendicular almost before I have
touched the ground, and politely hoping that I feel quite satisfied,
hitherto, with his conduct as a guide.

We now go across the beach to explore some caves--dry at low water--on
the opposite side. Some of these are wide, lofty, and well-lighted from
without. We walk in and out and around them, as if in great, irregular,
Gothic halls. Some are narrow and dark. Now, we crawl into them on hands
and knees; now, we wriggle onward a few feet, serpent-like, flat on our
bellies; now, we are suddenly able to stand upright in pitch darkness,
hearing faint moaning sounds of pent-up winds, when we are silent, and
long reverberations of our own voices, when we speak. Then, as we turn
and crawl out again, we soon see before us one bright speck of light
that may be fancied miles and miles away--a star shining in the earth--a
diamond sparkling in the bosom of the rock. This guides us out again
pleasantly; and, on gaining the open air, we find that while we have
been groping in the darkness, a change has been taking place in the
regions of light, which has altered and is still altering the aspect of
the whole scene.

It is now two o'clock. The tide is rising fast