ost persistently ignores all the known laws of gravity, by
fixing itself in our eyes, mouths, and nostrils.

Herds of goats, with their attendant shepherds, occasionally cross our
path, changing their pasturage. Query, what do they live on? I don't
think that any of our party have yet seen anything green since we
started, not a blade of grass nor even a moss to relieve the stony
reality of the hard rock.

With what a sigh of relief and satisfaction we reach the top, and enter
within the welcome shade afforded by the signal-house. Refreshments are
eagerly sought after, anything to wash the dust out of one's mouth.
There is no lack of drinks here, very fortunately; beer and stout, and
something--which being put into lemonade bottles passes, I suppose, for
that beverage--are speedily, greedily, gulped down our parched throats.
The supposed lemonade which, by special desire, fell to my lot, was
enough to engender thoughts of disloyalty to a certain lady and her
cause in the mind of the stoutest champion of the league; and I took
considerable credit to myself that I passed scathless through such a
trying ordeal. What stuff! Just imagine, you who are drinking your stout
with such keen relish, and smacking your lips in such evident
satisfaction, imbibing a liquid as hot almost as the surrounding air,
and so insipid that I have tasted medicines far more palatable.
Opportunely I call to mind a proverb of our Spanish friends yonder, "The
sailor who would caulk his boat must not turn up his nose at pitch;" and
as, figuratively speaking, I want to caulk mine, I make a virtue of
necessity, and the obnoxious liquid vanishes.

Having regaled ourselves at a very moderate cost, all things considered,
we are invited to insert our names in the visitors' book. To satisfy a
curiosity we possess we turn back over the pages, to see who has honored
this height with their presence. We find princes from Germany, grandees
from Spain, professors from America, naval officers of almost all
nations, and ladies not a few. One person of a witty and poetical turn
thus records his and his friends' visit:--

"April 17th, 1878.

Three friends this day
Walked all the way
To the signal station;
There was W. T.,
With his chum, C. G.,
And R. H. of the British nation."

After such an enjoyable rest, suppose we just step outside on the
terrace, and have a look around whilst we "do" our tobacco.

We are at a height