. The rulers of the Mediterranean. s; and, mixed with these,the pride and glory of the British army and navy,in all the bravery of red coats and white helmets,or blue jackets, or Highland kilts. It is a fortressas imposing as the Tower of London, a winterresort as pretty as St. Augustine, and a seaporttown of free entry, into which come on every tidepeople of many nations, and ships flying everyflag. Around its base are the ramparts, like a bandof stone and steel; above them the town, risinglike a staircase, with houses for steps—yellowhouses, with light green blinds sticking out atdifferent a
. The rulers of the Mediterranean. s; and, mixed with these,the pride and glory of the British army and navy,in all the bravery of red coats and white helmets,or blue jackets, or Highland kilts. It is a fortressas imposing as the Tower of London, a winterresort as pretty as St. Augustine, and a seaporttown of free entry, into which come on every tidepeople of many nations, and ships flying everyflag. Around its base are the ramparts, like a bandof stone and steel; above them the town, risinglike a staircase, with houses for steps—yellowhouses, with light green blinds sticking out atdifferent angles, and with sloping red roofs meet-ing other lines of red roofs, and broken by a car-peting of green where the parks and gardensmake an opening in the yellow front of the town,and from which rise tall palms and palmettoes,and rows of sea-pines, and fluttering union-jackswhich mark the barracks of a regiment. Abovethe town is the Rock, covered with a greengrowth of scrub and of little trees below, and THE ROCK OF GIBRALTAR 13. naked and bare above, stretching for several miles from north to south, and rearing its great bulk up into the sky until it loses its summit in the clouds. It is never twice the same. To-day it may be smiling and resplendent under a warm, brilliant sun that spreads out each shade of green, and shows each terrace and rampart as clearly as though one saw it through a glass; the sky becomes as blue as the sea and the bay, and the white villages of Spain seem as near to one as the red soldier smoking his pipe on the a type mountings half-way up the Rock. And to-morrow the whole top of the Rock may be lost in a thick curtain of gray clouds, and the waters of the bay will be tossing and covered withwhite-caps, and the landsabout disappear from sightas though they had sunk intothe sea during the night andhad left you alone on anisland. At times a sunsetpaints the Rock a martialred, or the moonlight softensit, and you see only the tallA TYPE palms and the gr
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublisherharper, bookyear189
