Under The Cliffs.

Landing In The Tender.

The Couchant Monster.

A Protected Anchorage.

A Harbor View.

The town presents a curious medley of Great Britain and the Orient. Over the doors of shops and on the corners of the streets are English names, and one hears everywhere the English tongue. Vehicles turn to the left, in meeting, as in England; and scores of British soldiers, dressed in khaki, stroll about the streets or march with swinging step from point to point. But the small shops, low doors, and walls of brightly colored stucco, together with a large proportion of African, East Indian, and Moorish traders, as well as the presence of the patient donkey - all give to this peculiar corner of the world an unmistakable flavor of the East.

The Town.

The prettiest portion of the settlement is undeniably the Alameda, a public garden tastefully designed and rich in semi-tropical vegetation. On one occasion, when I saw it in midsummer, - the most unfavorable season, - scarlet geraniums ten feet high were massed with other plants into luxuriant hedges. Heliotropes, too, were growing there like shrubs; and I observed a beautiful variety of morning-glory, whose delicate corollas of a deep, pure blue, when fading, turned to pink. Aloes and palms were also visible; and pepper, coffee, olive, almond, myrtle, and fig-trees, although exotics, did credit to their native soil in bravely holding up to view, in contrast to the arid cliffs, their aromatic blossoms or their ripening fruit. Here, at the close of the afternoon, the inhabitants love to assemble, to listen to the music of a military band; and as they stroll along the flower-bordered paths, their gaze is often drawn toward the enchanting prospect of the neighboring Straits, whose dimpled surface stretches in the sunset glory to the shore of Africa, like a broad bridge of beaten gold.

What most concerns the traveler here, however, is not the settlement, the garden, or the people, but the rock itself, with its intrinsic grandeur, wonderful fortifications, and impressive history. As a mere natural object, this mass of dark gray limestone, weather-stained by ages of exposure, is awe-inspiring. For since the land adjoining it is nearly as level as the sea, it seems so totally different from its flat surroundings that one could easily imagine it a monster meteorite, the fallen chief of all the aerolitic waifs that circle round our earth, like the poor, wind-swept souls which Dante saw, forever driven on through space in punishment for guilty love. The most imposing view of

Gibraltar's principal street.

Gibraltar is, in my opinion, gained from the little isthmus which unites it with the mainland. This narrow zone, one-half of which belongs to Spain, the other half to England, is named appropriately the Neutral Ground. In case of war, however, it might become in a moment No Man's Land, since it is undermined, and could be instantly submerged.

Bust Of " Old Eliot ' In The Alameda.

The Neutral Ground.

Here one is able best to comprehend the promontory's vast proportions; for this side, fronting Europe, reaches an altitude of more than fourteen hundred feet, and forms a precipice so steep and bare, that were a boulder pushed off from the summit, it would be uninterrupted in its fearful fall until it reached the base. No photograph can possibly do justice to the solemn grandeur of this cliff; but could I carry away with me only one memory of Gibraltar, I would prefer the recollection of its northern face, inviolable as the Matterhorn, inscrutable as the Sphinx, and as invincible as the demi-god whose pillar it was thought to be, when its portentous form kept, century after century, the ancient world a prisoner in the inland sea. Unlike most other mountains in the world, however, it is not merely the exterior of this famous rock that is impressive. What also thrills one, as he looks upon it, is the realization that behind this monster mask, stare, Gorgon-like, the features of grim-visaged War.