opening between two
precipices that, ages ago, were rent asunder by the forces of nature. On
entering the valley by the road leading from the sea-shore, nothing can be
seen but barren cliffs and craggy heights, covered here and there by
patches of the moss peculiar to the country. After making some progress,
the gorge narrows, the moss becomes denser on the overhanging rocks;
trees, growing out of clefts in the precipices, unite their branches above
the chasm, and shroud the depths, so that, save an hour or two at noon,
the rays of the sun do not penetrate to the crystal brook, rippling along
at the bottom over its bed of moss-covered pebbles,--now flashing white as
it leaps down a declivity, now hiding itself under the overreaching ferns,
now coming again into the light, but always hurrying on as though eager to
escape from the dark, gloomy retreat, and, for a moment, enjoy the
sunshine of the wider valley beyond before losing its life in the sea.

[Illustration: A Barren Cliff]

At a narrow turn in the valley and immediately over the spot where the
brook has its origin in a spring bursting out of a crevice in the rock and
falling into a circular well partly scooped out, partly built up for the
reception of the sparkling water, a cliff rises perpendicularly to the
height of fifty feet, surmounted, after a break in the strata, by another,
perhaps twenty feet higher, the upper portion being curiously wrought by
nature's chisel into the shape of a human countenance. The forehead is
shelving, the eyebrows heavy and menacing; the nose large and hooked like
the beak of a hawk; the upper lip short, the chin prominent and pointed,
while a thick growth of ferns in the shelter of the crag forming the nose
gives the impression of a small mustache and goatee. Above the forehead a
mass of tangled undergrowth and ferns bears a strong resemblance to an
Oriental turban. An eye is plainly indicated by a bit of light-colored
stone, and altogether the face has a sinister leer, that, in an ignorant
age, might easily inspire the fears of a superstitious people.

On a level with the chin and to the right of the face is the mouth of a
cave, reached by a path up the hillside, rude steps in the rock rendering
easier the steep ascent. The cave can be entered only by stooping, but
inside a room nearly seven feet high and about twelve feet square presents
itself. Undoubtedly the cave was once the abode of an anchorite, for