hat matter, that he was no vain boaster.

But we had scarcely advanced a few hundred yards within the gorge, than
I had eyes only for the sublimity of the scenery that opened itself in
succession as we passed. The water was as smooth as the cheek, as
bright as the smile, and as blue as the eye of our first love. Indeed,
it was "_deeply_, beautifully blue," as Lord Byron saith--to that
_deeply_ we owed everything. The channel was so narrow, that, in many
places there was not sufficient room to tack the ship even if she could
have turned within her own length, and, in two remarkable points, we had
not sufficient width to have carried our studding-sails. At one
singularly romantic spot of this pass, the rocks far above our
mast-heads leant over towards each other, and the ancient forest trees
that crowned the heights, mingled their feathery branches, and permitted
us to get a sight of the vaulted blue above us only at intervals,
between the interstices of the dark-green foliage.

The seamen regarded their situation with wonder, not unmixed with awe.
But the view was not the unvaried one of two gigantic walls festooned
with flowers and crowned with trees. At intervals, we found the channel
open into wide lagoons, with shelving and verdant shores, studded with
white stone buildings, and well cultivated plantations, and then the
passage would narrow again suddenly, and the masses of rock rose so high
on each side of us, as almost to exclude the light of the day. The way
was tortuous, but not abruptly so; and, as we wound through it, ever and
anon we came to some picturesque inlet, some cool grotto, so beautiful
that its very beauty must have peopled it with nymphs, for none could
look upon them, without feeling, for a time, like poets. At the
entrance, the heaving water rose and fell with a heavy moaning against
the eternal bases of the rocks, though the surface in mid-channel was
perfectly smooth; but, as we advanced, the dull indulation gradually
subsided, and its measured splash no longer echoed among the cliffs.
The silence, as we proceeded, grew strange to us. An awe crept over us,
like that which is felt upon the first entrance into a vast cathedral:
and the gentle wind came to us noiselessly, and dying away at intervals,
left the ship silently stealing on, impelled for a space, by no visible
means.

The hush throughout the ship was tomb-like, and the few words of command
that from time to time broke upon the