of the old fortification and look out across the bay, over the island of Anastasia, to the sea beyond. After wandering for a brief period through these gloomy precincts, and inhaling the damp, imprisoned air of the dungeons, it is pleasant to stand in the sunlight and breathe the fresh air of heaven again. We promenade the battlements and look down upon the lovely fort with barbicans and towers, esplanades, drawbridges, and grass-grown moat spread out before and around us. Lifting the eyes and gazing further off we have a magnificent land and sea view, with the quaint old city with its lovely gardens grouped at our feet. We meet many other promenaders who, like ourselves, appreciate the glorious view, except in some cases when the view is bounded by a sun-bonnet on one side and a wide sombrero, shading a bearded masculine face, upon the other. There was Darby enjoying the evening air, with his fat wife Joan trudging by his side; and here was a tall young lady of Amazonian deportment solemnly parading side by side with her latest conquest--a small, meek young man, who had evidently no strength to resist capture and could not close his ears to the voice of the charmer. He wore spectacles and a blue necktie, reminding one somewhat of a pet sheep being led by a blue ribbon; one half expected to hear him reply with a soft “Baa--aa” to the tender tones of his ladylove. Now in turning a shady corner we come upon a pair of time-honoured flirts, who had left their youth a long way behind them, and are now shooting their blunt little arrows at one another, both well practised, and evidently little damage is done on either side. Descending presently from our vantage ground, we turn our backs upon the romantic old fort, looking so grey and lonesome in the sunlight; its glories have passed away, and its peaceful solitudes have become the haunt of tourists and travellers; the green lizards swarm in its sunny corners, and men and women linger through long summer evenings in its shady nooks, and make love beneath its frowning battlements. We pass along the sea wall, which is of coquina, like most of the buildings here, and is about a mile long, forming a magnificent promenade; it is elevated above the roadway, and being only two feet wide it gives no encouragement to the “gay and festive throng” or social gathering on moonlit evenings. People generally march in single file and take the air in a solemn business-like fashion, though occasionally a pair of young, slim creatures cling together and walk side by side, by no means inclined to carp at the narrowness of the wall, which compels one arm to slide round the other waist, and with a kind of forced pressure to “hold on” to save the other from falling. On one side is the water, still as a lake, yet indescribably seeming to breathe the “salt sweet fragrance” of the vast Atlantic beyond.