And yet, were witchcraft available in any case, it could not be in connexion with the natural operation, which the mariners call “trombe di mare.” The travellers suffered, in fact, from a strong wind, connected with the phenomenon of a water spout, observed, for the most part, at sea, but sometimes also on shore. Its usual appearance is that of a dense cloud, like a conical pillar, which seems to consist of condensed vapour, and is seen to descend with the apex downwards. When over the sea, there are generally two cones, one projecting from the cloud, the other from the water below it. They sometimes unite, and then a flash of lightning is observed; on other occasions, they disperse before any junction takes place. The effect appears to be, at least partly, electrical; the cones being in opposite states, the positive and negative attraction ensue; and, when union takes place, which is indicated by the flash, the bodies are restored to their equilibrium. The magicians on the coast practise what they call the art of “cutting” the “trombe.” As soon as it is seen approaching in the direction of a boat, the wizard goes forward, sends all the crew aft, that they may not be eye-witnesses of what he does; and using certain signs or words, and making a movement with his arms as if in the act of cutting, the enemy falls in two, and disappears. We are reminded by these circumstances of “the news from the country,” which the _Spectator_ describes as brought to him by sir Roger de Coverley. One part of it was, that Moll White was dead, and that about a month after one of the baronet’s barns fell down, which led to the shrewd remark: “I do not think the old woman had anything to do with it.” Nor do we think that the wizard of the Mediterranean has anything to do with “cutting the wind.” The probability is, that he seizes on the time for his movements, which, from experience, he knows to precede the dispersion of the cloud, and thus acquires credit to which he has not the slightest claim. This chapter may appropriately be concluded by a reference to the waters of the earth, which are often represented as endued with a supernatural power. The Ilissus, rising on Mount Hymettus, to the east of Athens, and overflowing its banks, furnishes a supply of excellent water to the monastery of Sergiani. On one side, are three small caverns in the rock, with double entrances; apparently the work of nature, but probably aided by art. They are still supposed, as they have been during past ages, to have a mystic virtue; and “no remedy,” says Dodwell, is considered so efficacious for a sick child as “to drag it two or three times from one cave to another; by which it is either killed or cured. Several ancient wells are observed in the rock on each side of the river. Near these, the foundation of a wall crosses the bed of the Ilissus.”