In a few hours we reach the grand fortress of Gibraltar, which keeps stern watch at the gates of the Mediterranean, and forms with the Rock of Ceuta, on the African side, the famous "Pillars of Hercules." Nothing could well be more imposing than the view of Gibraltar from the bay on its western side. Ranges of batteries rising from the shore, tier above tier, extend along its entire sea-front. At the northern extremity is the town. Every nook in the crags bristles with artillery. White barracks and gay villas, embowered in gardens and groves, occupy the midway ascent. Above all towers in rugged grandeur the summit of the Rock itself.

No less striking is the contrast which presents itself when we have doubled Europa Point, and look back to the eastern side of the Rock from the bosom of the Mediterranean. The scene which we have quitted was one of busy excitement and varied life. Now one long unbroken precipice, 1400 feet in height, towers above us. There are few signs of vegetation, and none of human habitation, save only the little village of white houses in Catalan Bay, which crouches at the foot of the Rock, as if in constant dread of being crushed by the overhanging masses.