nesting. G., who was as light and agile as a
cat, soon clambered to the top, and reported
that there was nothing to see. He then sprang
down to us, and, in spite of the slipperiness of
the rock and the depth of the jump, kept his
footing. Of course we praised him immensely
for his activity; and to give us a new proof of
it, he volunteered to explore the tunnel, and tell
us what there was on the other side. This,
however, was no such easy matter. In the first
place, the entrance to it was six feet above our
platform, and this rise was absolutely
perpendicular, with a hard smooth surface, and
nothing on which to place hand or foot. Then
the gallery was very dark within, and the floor
of it was horribly rough. Somehow or other,
G. managed to get up, but he had no sooner
advanced a few yards into the interior than a
prodigious number of bats and other night-birds
came swooping out, with such a dust and
noise as to half blind, suffocate, and deafen, our
adventurous pioneer. We could not help
laughing loud and long to see him reappear
powdered all over like a miller, rubbing his
eyes, and swearing energetically in excellent
Spanish and German.

"Don't be frightened, senor," said Juan,
taking off his hat with mock politeness, but
grinning all the time like an ogre; "the birds
won't hurt you, and they're not worth killing,
or you could shoot as many as you liked with
our revolvers."

"Caramba!" said G., "whether they are
worth shooting or not, I'll have a shot into the
gallery before I go in again; for I would rather
be shot myself, than smothered with this filth."

Juan handed up a revolver to G., who
forthwith discharged several barrels into the tunnel.
The explosion brought out a fresh flock of birds,
and, until the dust they made had subsided, we
could see nothing.

"Come, G.," I said, laughing, "look about
for the game. I want a specimen of a vampire to
take home. I hope you have killed something."

Hereupon Juan, whose height gave him an
advantage over me in reconnoitring, exclaimed:

"Blest if I can tell what's been killed; but I
think the shots have made something alive, for
I can see what looks like the stem of a great
creeper moving up and down like a live eel in a
frying-pan."

"Stem of a great creeper!" shouted G., who
had now again entered the tunnel; "by
Heavens! It's a snake, and the biggest I ever saw."

With these words, he discharged the remaining
barrels of his pistol, and then bolted back to
the mouth of the gallery, ready to drop down
to us, in case the brute turned in our direction.
Luckily, it made off the other way. G., who
saw it best, declared it was sixteen or eighteen
feet long. After this, none of us felt inclined
to explore any further, and we unanimously
agreed that we had seen all that was worth
seeing, and that the place was a very nice place
for a pic-nic—barring the bats and the serpents!

"It's a queer spot," said G., as we descended
the steep path to regain our horses, "and some
curious things have been done in it. In the
last war, a famous robber, named Hernando
Maza, lived here, and committed many atrocities
before they found out his den. No one thought
of looking for him in the cave. At last they
sent for bloodhounds and tracked him to it,
and then he died there, sword in hand, like a
brave man."

"More like a snake in a hole," said Juan,
who did not care for romantic histories, and
was rather disgusted with the day's proceedings.
"I shall be very glad to get back to Valencia,
and I don't care if I never see no more caves,
nor serpents neither, as long as / live."

GIBSON'S STUDIO.

ON THE BASSO RELIEVO OF THE HOURS LEADING
THE HORSES OF THE SUN, AND ON OTHER WORKS
THERE.

I.

FLOAT on, thou stately pageant, proud and fair,
Float on, in choral beauty, joyous Hours,
While to your god th' immortal steeds ye bear
With festal step and song and votive flowers.

II.

Beauty and courage, ardour tamed by grace,
Strength ruled by sweetness, freedom, vig'rous youth.
Divinely curb'd yet guided on their race—
The noble image veils a nobler truth.

III.

O fair primeval age! so nigh thy birth,
God's awful presence brooded ever near;
Wing'd forms angelical still trod the earth,
Yet jubilant, each star sang in its sphere.

IV.

And therefore heart and soul, and ear and eye,
From God-like influence drew life divine,
And truth, religion, high philosophy,
Reveal'd through sensuous forms their faith benign.

V.

Not wholly dim the rapture, fled the dream;
We all might speak of visions delicate,
Impalpable, o'er which soft halos gleam
To fond beliefs of old, vet dedicate.

VI.

Ay, come with me; yon fountain murmurs clear
Beneath its crown of fern, and round it bloom,
Lavish of beauty, prodigally fair.
Wild flowers, whose purple mocks the skies of
Rome.

VII.

By flowers and fountain welcome meet is given;
Then pass yon threshold: grave and still and calm,
The gods await us 'tis the Grecian heaven,
All odorous with asphodel and balm.

VIII.

There shines Pandora, and her eyes seem stern
With mystic prescience and prophetic light.
Here, fair Aurora from her graceful urn
Sheds freshening dews which part the day from
night.

IX.

And there young Phaeton with looks of fire
Measures th' ethereal space his steeds have trod,
Forgetful, in his quenchless, wild desire,
To wait is genius, to be patient, God!