We had approached to the foot of the mountain range we had hitherto seen from afar, to which the road ascended by gradual inclines. The higher we wound from the heat below, the sharper became the breeze. On all sides Alpine vegetation spread around, perfuming the air with a hundred odours. We pursued the zig-zags until we were enclosed by a semicircle of enormous precipices and stupendous rocks, on whose beetling brows the toppling fir-trees clung. We felt overwhelmed by the sight of these stupendous masses, for it seemed as if a breath would dislodge them, and hurl them down upon us. The road, escaping for a time from the deep recesses of these adamantine walls, skirted the level edge of a lofty precipice; and, on one occasion, we splashed through a torrent which, a few feet on our left, fell in a wide arch over the rocky margin, and rushed, silvering in the sunny air, far down into the dark gulf beneath, while the roar of its waters echoed like distant thunder amongst the hollows of the desolate mountains. Again we ascended, and in proportion as we rose, the peaks seemed to rear themselves above us. Then we dived into a vast enclosure of vertical walls, in which we felt as if in a prison, deep and gloomy itself, but from which we could see the bright vault of heaven above. After an hour's climb in this sombre valley, we sat down for rest and a _cigarillo_ on a way-side stone to await the coming of the mules and carriage. As we looked back through the rocky pass by which we had entered the gorge, we had a pleasant, though far distant, view of light green slopes and wide spreading plains, shining brightly in the yellow glow of day, and occasionally tinted with the grey hues of the olive. Bounding these plains, in a long narrow line of dazzling light, were the white walls of Palma; while beyond, its hue contrasting with the transparent blue of the spotless sky, and flecked here and there by the white sail of the feluccas, quivered the long high line of the purple sea. Higher yet we ascend, over roads paved by the Moors six hundred years ago. Leaving the carriage on the path below, we scramble up through tangled shrubberies, through cactus, aloes, carob, evergreen oak, and ancient olive. All around and over us are piled the wild mountains, with forests of pine scaling to their very peaks, and standing out like funeral plumes in dark, black fringes against the radiant sky. We pass groups of strong sunburnt peasants, with a simple goat-skin tied upon their backs for a garment. We perceive among them timid girls, large-eyed and hooded, with streaming plaits of blue-black or golden auburn hair, and old women, squatting on mules, with their heads covered by the hat, or masculine head-gear, like that worn by the women of Wales. Wider and wider, as we rise above the lower landscape, spreads the glorious prospect behind us--wild rock, verdant slope, sunny plains, streaked with the dusky olive, the long, white line of