e of "rock scorpions"--a tough, hardy people,
though, notwithstanding their doubtful ancestry.

In my description of places I shall always assume that about twenty or
thirty of my shipmates accompany me in my strolls,--we shall get along
much pleasanter, and enjoy ourselves much better thus than if we were
scattered without any end in view: besides, it will be much less
difficult for me, and I shall be enabled to get rid of that
objectionable personal pronoun, first person singular, nominative. I
will, therefore, with your kind co-operation, introduce you to the first
of our series of rambles.

The climate is beautiful and the air most exhilirating, two, at any
rate, of the attributes to an enjoyable walk already manufactured for
us. Passing out of the Dockyard precincts we are at once in the English
quarter. As I said before, the houses are constructed in terraces: hence
we find ourselves continually mounting flights of steps to get from one
street to another, so that there is really little inducement for
pedestrians to move out of doors at all. Vegetation is very scarce, a
want we can scarcely be surprised at when we consider the soil. Of
course, that camel of the vegetable world, the cactus tribe, has its
representatives in this arid, parched earth, where, seemingly, it is
impossible anything else can take root.

As we approach the rising ground, which hides a portion of the town from
our view, we observe the walls of an old ruin boldly outlined against
the pure blue of the sky. This is all that now remains of a Moorish
castle, the last existing monument of that race in Gibraltar.

But we must hurry on, for we have a lot to do: amongst other things, a
climb to where that flag flutters indistinctly in the breeze. After
sundry twists and turns, now up these steps, now down this street, or
that, we find ourselves at the beginning of the ascent, and in as rubbly
and dusty a pathway as one would wish to traverse. What with the ruts
worn by the rain, and the tearing up of the ground by the passage of
heavy ordnance, it would be a difficult matter indeed to select any
particular line of march and call it a road. Travellers ordinarily
engage mules for the journey; we sailors scorn any such four-footed
assistance, though the next time we voyage this way it will be as well
to remember that ankle boots are preferable to "pursers' crabs." As we
advance, the sun's rays are beginning to get unpleasantly warm, whilst
the sand m