terior is upward. There is, of course, an entrance to the fortress;
but that lies far off on the other side. It might possibly have been the
wiser course to seek for easier ingress there.

However, being here, I ascend the second acclivity. The grass stems--the
grey beard of the hill--sway in a mass close to my stooping face. The
dead heads of these various grasses--fescues, fox-tails, and ryes--bob
and twitch as if pulled by a string underground. From a few thistles a
whistling proceeds; and even the moss speaks, in its humble way, under
the stress of the blast.

That the summit of the second line of defence has been gained is suddenly
made known by a contrasting wind from a new quarter, coming over with the
curve of a cascade. These novel gusts raise a sound from the whole camp
or castle, playing upon it bodily as upon a harp. It is with some
difficulty that a foothold can be preserved under their sweep. Looking
aloft for a moment I perceive that the sky is much more overcast than it
has been hitherto, and in a few instants a dead lull in what is now a
gale ensues with almost preternatural abruptness. I take advantage of
this to sidle down the second counterscarp, but by the time the ditch is
reached the lull reveals itself to be but the precursor of a storm. It
begins with a heave of the whole atmosphere, like the sigh of a weary
strong man on turning to re-commence unusual exertion, just as I stand
here in the second fosse. That which now radiates from the sky upon the
scene is not so much light as vaporous phosphorescence.

The wind, quickening, abandons the natural direction it has pursued on
the open upland, and takes the course of the gorge's length, rushing
along therein helter-skelter, and carrying thick rain upon its back. The
rain is followed by hailstones which fly through the defile in
battalions--rolling, hopping, ricochetting, snapping, clattering down the
shelving banks in an undefinable haze of confusion. The earthen sides of
the fosse seem to quiver under the drenching onset, though it is
practically no more to them than the blows of Thor upon the giant of
Jotun-land. It is impossible to proceed further till the storm somewhat
abates, and I draw up behind a spur of the inner scarp, where possibly a
barricade stood two thousand years ago; and thus await events.

* * * * *

The roar of the storm can be heard travelling the complete circuit of the
castle--a measured mile--coming round a