Foremost in all manly sports, he reckless Rode along the beach where foaming breakers Lashed the cliffs, fleet-footed Leo dashed between. His black horse was known on El Camino Real--far beyond the shady groves of Monte Vista. He loved the mountains And on their bosom laid his head beneath The starlit skies, companion of their silence, Partaker of their rest. In midnight darkness Could he thread the winding Indian trail Across the high Cuyamacas, and often Had he reached the base of Palomar, and Longed to see beyond its frowning granite Walls. At last, undaunted, came nearly to The summit--came where a deep-walled canyon held Him back, there rested. The autumn sun was Slowly sinking to the sea and bathed the Mountain side in flood of rosy-tinted Brilliancy. ZOLA AND ZIMBO. Upon a shelving rock near By, a being of angelic beauty Stood; posed statue-like, her eyes fix’t on the Distant sea; one hand spread gracefully Across her brow, the other holding back A monster mountain lion that crouching At her feet, lay watching him; a robe of Softest fabric, yielding to the breeze, revealed The ample fulness of her shapely form; Caught back by strand of sparkling gems, a mass Of golden hair fell nearly to her feet. She unconscious of his presence, Gilbert Stood in speechless adoration, as one Entranced,--lost in wonderment. Who was this Personage divine? This apparition Come to him on that lone mountain side? Was She some fairy elf come to bewitch him? Some mountain sprite? Or angel from the throne? With throbbing temples, arms outstretched, as tho’ He fain would leap the chasm that lay between, Pressed slowly to its edge. The lion rising Angrily to spring, she saw him standing There and vanished from his sight. Then from the Rocks, he heard her voice call softly, sternly: “Come, Zimbo, come! _Come here!_” The spell was Broken; by those words in his own tongue He knew that she was of the earth--one like Himself--and not a native of that land. Day after day did he return to that Same spot and, waiting patient, watch for her; Once for a moment saw her on the heights, And again, he saw the eyes of that great Lion fixed on him and knew that she was Near. Like knight of old he scaled the highest Peaks and stood upon the spot her feet had Pressed. With throbbing pulse and palpitating Heart he followed in pursuit. The kindly Rocks revealed no tell-tale foot prints where her Feet had touched them in her flight. The summer Wore away and autumn came again; yet She cunningly evaded him. Growing Desperate, he traversed all the length and Breadth of Palomar; at times he heard her Voice in song, heard her speak to Zimbo, she Near him; for a precious moment saw her, But in finesse she more than equalled him.