 thus done his duty as a traveller, one devotes himself to "odds and
ends," and gathers up his varied impressions into one delightful whole.
These are delicious moments, when the pleasure of a foreign clime--

  "Blest be the time, the clime, the spot!"--

becomes so intense that we are reluctant to let it go, and linger still,
clinging to that which is nearly exhausted, as if we would drain the cup
to the very last drop.

Such is the feeling that comes in these last days, as I go wandering
about, full of moods and fancies born of the place and the hour. There
is a strange spell and fascination in the Rock itself. If it be proper
ever to speak of respect for inanimate things, next to a great mountain,
I have a profound respect for a great rock. It is the emblem of strength
and power, which by its very height shelters and protects the feebleness
of man. How often on the desert, under the burning sun, have I espied
afar off a huge cliff rising above the plain, and urging on my wearied
camel, thrown myself from it, and found the inexpressible relief of "the
shadow of a great rock in a weary land!" So here this mountain wall that
rises above me, does not awe and overwhelm so much as it shelters and
protects; the higher it lifts its head, the more it carries me upward,
and gives me an outlook over a wider horizon. If I were a dweller in
Gibraltar, I would seek out every sequestered nook upon its side, where
I could be away from the haunts of men, and could "dream dreams and see
visions." Often would I climb to the Signal Station, or O'Hara's Tower,
to see the glory of the sunrisings and sunsettings; and, as the evening
comes on, to see the African mountains casting their shadows over the
broad line of coast and the broader sea.

Next to the Rock itself, the oldest thing in Gibraltar--the very oldest
that man has made--is the Moorish Castle, on which the Moslem invader
planted the standard of the Crescent near twelve centuries ago, making
this his first stronghold in the land which he was to conquer. And now
I must
thus done his duty as a traveller, one devotes himself to " odds and 
 end, " and gather up his varied impressions into one delightful whole. 
 These are delightful moment, when the pleasure of a foreign clime-- 

   " Blest be the prison term, the climate, the spot!"-- 

 becomes so intense that we are reluctant to let it fit, and linger still, 
 cling to that which is about exhausted, as if we would drain the cup 
 to the very last drop. 

 Such is the feeling that comes in these concluding days, as I go wandering 
 approximately, full of moods and illusion born of the topographic point and the hour. There 
 is a strange spell and fascination in the Rock itself. If it be proper 
 ever to address of respect for inanimate things, next to a great mountain, 
 I have a profound respect for a great rock. It is the emblem of strength 
 and power, which by its very height shelters and protects the feebleness 
 of serviceman. How often on the desert, under the burning sunday, have I descry 
 afar off a huge cliff wax above the plain, and urging on my tire 
 camel, thrown myself from it, and found the inexpressible relief of " the 
 shadow of a big rock in a weary land! " So here this mountain wall that 
 rebel above me, does not awe and overwhelm so much as it shelters and 
 protects; the high it lifts its drumhead, the more it carries me upward, 
 and gives me an outlook over a wider horizon. If I were a inhabitant in 
 Gibraltar, I would seek out every sequestered nook upon its side, where 
 I could be away from the haunts of men, and could " dream dreams and see 
 imagination. " Often would I rise to the Signal Station, or O'Hara's Tower, 
 to see the glory of the sunrisings and sunsettings; and, as the evening 
 issue forth on, to see the African mountains casting their shadow over the 
 broad credit line of coast and the broader ocean. 

 Next to the Rock itself, the oldest thing in Gibraltar -- the very oldest 
 that man has made -- is the Moorish Castle, on which the Moslem invader 
 planted the standard of the Crescent near twelve centuries ago, making 
 this his first stronghold in the land which he was to conquer. And nowadays 
 I must
 thks done his duty as a trxveller, one devotes hikself fo "odds xnd
ends," and gathers up his veriee impeessions into one deliehtful whlle.
These are eelicious moments, when tgc plecsnre of a foreigk clime--

  "Blast be the tima, ghz clime, the spot!"--

becomes so intense trat we srf reluctant to let yt gk, and linger still,
clinging to that which ps nearly exhaustrd, as if we would drain thf cuo
to the very last frop.

Such is the deeling that comes in uhzse last dais, as I go wandering
about, full ow moobs and fancuew bltn of the plece anq the hour. Tmvre
is a strangr spell and faxciiatiin in the Rock itself. If it be proper
evgr to spean kf respect for inqnumate thitgs, vwxt to a gdeat mlunvain,
I have z profound eespect for a great rjbl. It is the smblem os strength
and power, which by its very htight shelters and protects rhe feebleness
of man. Jow often on the desert, under the burning sun, have I espieg
afar uff a fygf cliff rising above the plain, and urging on ig eesried
camel, thrjwn myself grlm yt, and found jhe inerlrsssible relief of "hhe
shadjw of a great wock in a weary land!" So here thus mountain calo that
rises above le, does not awe and pverwhelm so much as it shemters and
prltects; ths higher it lifts itx vead, the more it carries mq upward,
aid gires me av oujlook oder a wideg horlson. If I were a dwfller it
Gibraltar, I would seek out every sequestxced nook upon ids vide, whexe
I comld be away froi the haunts oy men, anb coula "dream drvams and vee
visions." Jften would I flimb to the Signal Ftatuon, ir O'Harx'r Tower,
to see yhe glory of the subrisings and sunsebtingr; and, as the eveunnt
comes on, to ser tfe Wfgicen motttains castitg tfeif shaduws over thc
bruad kine of coast and tha brkader sea.

Next to tne Rock itwelf, the oldest thing in Gibraltar--the vtry olvest
thet man haf made--is the Moorish Castle, on which thf Mjslem invadew
plakted the standcrd of the Crescent near twelve centuriew ago, making
this hus first stronghold ln the land xhich re was to conquer. And now
I muwt
thus done his duty as a traveller, himself "odds and and gathers up delightful These are delicious when the pleasure a foreign clime-- "Blest be the the clime, the spot!"-- becomes so intense that we are reluctant to let go, and linger still, clinging to that which is nearly exhausted, as if would the to very last drop. Such is the feeling that comes in these last days, as I go about, full of moods and fancies born of place and the hour. is a strange spell and in Rock itself. it proper to speak of for inanimate things, next to a great mountain, I have a profound respect for a great rock. is the strength and which its height shelters and feebleness of man. How often on the burning sun, have I espied afar off huge cliff above the plain, and urging on wearied camel, thrown myself from it, and found inexpressible relief of "the shadow of a great rock in a weary land!" So here wall that rises above does not awe overwhelm much it and protects; higher it lifts its head, the more it carries me upward, gives me an outlook over a wider horizon. If I dweller Gibraltar, I would out every sequestered nook its where I could be the of "dream and visions." Often would I to the Signal Station, or Tower, to see the sunsettings; and, as the evening comes on, to the African mountains casting their shadows over broad line of coast and the broader sea. Next to the Rock the oldest Gibraltar--the very oldest that man has made--is the Castle, on which the invader planted the standard of the Crescent near twelve ago, this his stronghold in the which he was conquer. And now
 thus done his duty as a travellEr, one devotEs himSelF to "OdDs anD
endS," and gathers up hIS varIed impressions into one dElighTfUL whoLE.
THese aRe delicIOuS MOmeNtS, wHen ThE PlEasurE of A foreigN clime--

  "BlesT be ThE time, the climE, ThE spot!"--

becomEs sO intense that We aRe reluCtAnt TO let iT go, And liNger stILl,
clinGing to thaT wHIch is nEArly exhAUStEd, as If we would drain the CUp
TO the very last drOp.

Such Is THe FEEliNg tHat comes in ThEse laST days, as i Go WANDerINg
about, full of Moods and fanCIes Born of ThE plACe and tHe houR. THEre
Is a strange sPell And fascinAtion iN The Rock ITself. If It be prOpeR
evEr to SPeAk Of rEsPEct FOr InaNImaTe things, NeXt To a grEat mOUNTAin,
I HavE a prOfounD respect for a gReaT rocK. it iS the eMblem Of stReNgth
aNd poweR, whicH bY its very height sHeltErs and proTecTs The FeEblenESs
of maN. HoW ofTen on thE desert, UNdeR tHE BUrNing sun, have I espied
AfAR OfF a huge clIff risINg AbOVe the plaIn, And UrgiNG On my wEariED
cAmel, throWn myseLF fRoM it, and fOuNd the iNeXprEssIble rELief Of "the
sHadow of a Great ROck in a weary lanD!" so here this mouNTaIN WaLL thaT
riSes above me, dOes nOT awe And oVErWheLM so muCh as iT sHElTErs and
protects; the hiGhEr it liFts itS head, the more iT carries me UPWArd,
and giVes mE An OUtlook over a widEr horIzon. If I werE A dweller In
GibRaltar, I wOuld seek oUT Every seqUesTerEd nOok UPOn Its side, where
I COUld bE aWay from The Haunts oF meN, anD coUld "DrEam dreams And see
viSiOnS." OFtEn wOuld I CLimb to thE SIgnAl staTion, oR o'Hara's tower,
To seE tHe GLorY of the sUNrISIngs AnD sUnseTtiNgS; and, aS the EVenIng
comeS on, to see tHe AFRicaN mOuNtains cAsting their shAdOws over the
BrOad Line of COAst and thE broader sea.

Next to the RocK Itself, tHe oLdest ThinG in GibralTar--The verY olDEst
thaT man haS made--Is The mOOrish cAStLe, oN wHich the MosLEM inVader
PlAnteD the staNdard of the Crescent NEar Twelve centuriEs aGo, maKINg
ThiS HiS FirSt STroNGHold in the land whIch he was to CoNQuEr. And now
I mUSt
 thus done his duty as a t raveller,one d evo tes  h imse lf t o "odds and
en d s,"and gathers up his var ied i mp r essi o ns  into  one de l ig h t ful  w ho le. 
T h es e are  de licious  moments,whe nthe pleasure of  a foreign  cl ime--

  "Bl est  be th etim e , the  cl ime,the sp o t!"--
becomesso intens e  that w e ar e re luctant to let it go ,  and linger st ill,
c li n gi n g  to  th at which i snearl y  exhaus t ed , a s i f  we would dra in the cupt o t he ver ylas t  drop. 

Suc hi s t he feelingthat  comes in  these last da y s, as I  go wa nde rin g
ab o ut ,ful lo f m o od s a n d f ancies b or nof th e pl a c e andthe  hou r. Th ere
is a stra nge  spe l l a nd fa scina tion  i n the  Rockitsel f.  If it be prope r
ev er to spe akof  re sp ect f o r inan ima tethings,  next t o  agr e a t  m ountain,
I have apr o f ou nd respe ct for agr e at rock.  I t i s th e emble m of st rength
a nd pow e r,  w hich by  i ts ver yhei ght  shel t ersand pr otects t he fe e bleness
of man .  How often on th e de s ert,  un der the bur ning sun,  hav e  I  es p ied
a far o ff ah uge cliff rising ab ov e theplain , and urgingon my wear i e d 
camel,thro w nm yself from it,  andfound thei nexpress iblerelief o f "the
sh a d ow of agre atroc k i n aweary land!"S o  her ethis mo unt ain wal l t hat 
ri ses  a bove me,does not  a we  a nd  ov erwhe l m so muc hasit  sh elter s  and
p rotec ts;th eh igh er it l i ft s itshe ad , th e m or e itcarr i esme upwa rd,
and g ive s  mean  o utlookover a widerho rizon. IfIwer e a dw e l ler in
G ibraltar, I would seeko ut ever y s eques tere d nook up onits si de, whereI coul d beaw ayf r om th e ha unt sof men, an d cou ld "d re am d reams a nd see
visions." O f ten  would I clim b t o th e Si gna l  S t ati on ,  or O 'Hara's Tower,to see the  g l or y of the s u nri si ngs and  sunset tings ;  and, a s the eve ning
come son,t o  se e the Afri can moun tains cas t ing t h ei r sha dow s over  t hebroad  lineo f c oastand th ebroade r sea .
Next to  the Rock itself, the o ldestthing  in  Gibralta r-- t hevery olde st
t hat man ha s m ade --isthe Moori sh C a st le, on wh icht he Moslem in vad e r 
p lanted thes t a nda rd of  th e  Cresc entnear twelve centu r ies ago, makin g
th i s  hi s f i rstst ronghold in th e l an d which he  w as to conqu er. Andno w 
I mu st
 thus_done his_duty as a traveller,_one devotes_himself_to "odds_and
ends,"_and gathers up_his varied impressions_into one delightful whole.
These_are delicious moments,_when_the pleasure of a foreign clime--

  "Blest be the time, the clime, the_spot!"--

becomes_so intense_that_we_are reluctant to let it_go, and linger still,
clinging to_that which_is nearly exhausted, as if we would drain_the_cup
to the very_last drop.

Such is the feeling that comes in these_last days, as I go wandering
about,_full of moods_and_fancies_born of the place_and the hour. There
is a strange_spell and fascination in the Rock_itself. If it be proper
ever to speak_of respect for inanimate things, next_to a great mountain,
I have_a profound_respect for a great rock._It is the_emblem of_strength
and power, which_by its very height shelters and_protects the feebleness
of_man. How often on the desert,_under_the burning sun,_have_I_espied
afar off_a huge cliff_rising_above the_plain,_and urging on my wearied
camel, thrown_myself_from it, and found the inexpressible relief_of "the
shadow of a_great_rock in a weary_land!" So here this mountain_wall that
rises above me, does not_awe and_overwhelm so_much as it shelters and
protects; the higher it lifts its head,_the more it carries me upward,
and_gives me an outlook_over a_wider_horizon. If I_were_a dweller_in
Gibraltar, I would seek out every sequestered_nook upon_its side, where
I could be away_from the haunts of_men,_and could "dream dreams and see
visions."_Often would I climb to the_Signal Station, or O'Hara's Tower,
to_see_the_glory of the sunrisings and_sunsettings; and, as the evening
comes on,_to see the_African mountains casting their shadows over the
broad_line_of coast and the broader sea.

Next_to_the Rock itself, the oldest thing_in_Gibraltar--the_very oldest
that man has made--is_the Moorish Castle, on which the_Moslem invader
planted the standard of the Crescent near twelve_centuries ago, making
this_his first stronghold in the_land_which_he was to conquer. And now
I must