myself, was not quite to the liking of M. de Montmaur, who expressed his regret that so much of my time was occupied on the higher parts of the Rock, which to him, as a prisoner, from prudential considerations, were forbidden ground.

One fine day, when I was making my observations at the Rock Guard, a position which vertically dominated the enemy's lines, I was unexpectedly joined by Captain Schnaub. He was off duty, and had come up to look about him. Learning in the course of conversation that I was on the point of visiting the Signal-House, another station on very high ground, he intimated an intention of going there too. I merely remarked that I should be glad to have the pleasure of his company.

"You will not have that," he replied, in his rough way. "We shall go by different paths.'

"How so?" I asked. "I know of but one path that is available from where we are-that along the summit of the ridge. It is not so smooth as a gravel-walk, but it leads from end to end."

"You know of but one?" said he; "but I know of two. Go you by the summit, if you prefer it; I shall go by the back of the Rock."

He spoke in a tone of bravado. Most people are aware that the east side, or "back of the Rock," is a tremendous precipice. Formerly, on the face of this precipice, there were certain narrow paths chiefly frequented by goats, and forming a communication, such as it was, between the eastern base of the Rock and its summit. But one of these paths having at a previous siege been actually made available by the enemy, they were all destroyed by scarping the Rock; and though there still remained one or two similar paths-that is, blind paths, as they might be calledpaths which led down from the summit at one point, and up again at another-not a single communication between summit and base had escaped obliteration. Those

remaining paths I well knew, and had occasionally tried; but it was ticklish work. You looked up on the blank wall of a precipice, and down on the Mediterranean; a single false step would be destruction. To the gallant Captain, the very bulk and breadth of his corporeal presence rendered his proposed expedition doubly dangerous. There was every reason to fear, even upon mechanical principles, that his centre of gravity would overlap the line of safety at certain awkward points; and in the mildest manner I ventured to hint that he would find the usual path safer as well as more pleasant.

To you it may be," he replied, scornfully, "but not to me. Let me tell you, sir, I have scaled mountains to which this Rock is a molehill. I have a good head, and I shall go. Take your own way, and give me leave to take mine. don't ask you to go with me, and I wouldn't advise it."

I

A boring, boastful man little imagines how disagreeable he makes himself, even to those who wish him well. In this case there was nothing more to be said. The Captain, disappearing over the ridge, looked very much like a man stepping down into vacancy.

Pursuing my course from the Rock Guard towards the SignalHouse, I had covered about half the distance when I heard a human voice. At that solitary elevation it sounded odd. Whence did it come? It seemed to proceed from the left. or ridge of the Rock. So! it was the Captain. Nothing visible but his head; he spoke in his usual gruff key, somewhat tremulous, though: "Here! Lend a hand."

I helped him up. He was blowzed, and prodigiously sweated; we won't say frightened, but, to use the mildest term, a little "excited."

"You

He spoke vindictively. didn't tell me I should meet anything! Couldn't go forward, couldn't go back; and only the breadth of a knife-board! There I was! Much obliged to you!"

"A goat?" I asked. It was well known in the garrison, and the Captain must have known it too, that the goats which browse on the Rock, in going from one part of the Rock to the other, do occasionally use those "knife-board" paths along the face of the precipice, and when two of them meet, as there is no room to pass, and the outsider would infallibly be precipitated, one lies down, and the other walks over him. This led me to fancy that a goat had met the Captain, and that either he had laid himself along to be walked over by the goat, or the goat had done as much for him. "Nonsense! goat!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean by goat? No, sir! not a goat; a baboon."

"Met you at the back of the Rock? Oh, one of the Gibraltar apes, I suppose. They hide up here among the crags and crevices; but I never met one yet in that path, or in any like it."

When anything disagreeable has occurred, it is quite natural that we should feel thoroughly out of temper with everybody, and just in the humour for wreaking our vengeance on somebody, and so quarrelling with the first person we meet. Such seemed to be the Captain's temper now.

"Sir," said he, fiercely, "I did not say an ape; I said a baboonand a pretty big one too-full the size of the Governor's wolf-dog. Not so big a baboon, though, as some I have seen," he added, with an insulting glance.

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I was on duty, and didn't want to quarrel. Come," said I, laughing, and eyeing his portly person, we won't dispute which baboons are the biggest, or which donkeys. I grant it. There is one species of apes on the Rock which is considerable larger than the common sort, and which, therefore, may perhaps be properly called baboons. Well, in passing along that perilous path, one of those baboons met you. It was an interesting meeting to both parties, and a singular adventure.

VOL. XCVII.-NO. DXCI.

Now please to tell me all particulars."

The Captain, somewhat toned down by the idea of telling, began to narrate. For some distance he made his way along the path with no obstruction, save only the want of additional space. One arm brushed against a perpendicular wall of lofty rock, the other hung free over the abyss. He owned he didn't like it; but his coolness and determination, not to mention the impossibility of turning back, carried him forward. Just as he had got round a projecting ridge, which, once passed, return was hopeless, what do you think he saw in the path before him? An enormous baboon! yes, sir; not an ape, a baboon. What was to be done? He could not go back, and the baboon would not. Passing was impossible. There they stood for some seconds, each looking daggers at the other. It was a question of life and death! Presently the baboon began to grin-grinned menacingly-raised himself erect on his hind-legs, and grinned again, advanced a few steps, and gave another grin! The Captain could easily have pitched the beast over the ledge, but in so doing might he not have lost his balance, and gone over himself? At this moment, a bright idea occurring to the Captain's mind; he made a slight movement downwards with his hand, hoping that the beast would do as goats do under similar circumstances-i. e., lie down upon the path, in order that he, the Captain, might walk over him. The baboon took no notice. What remained? Only that, as the baboon would not, the Captain must. Accordingly (this part of the adventure the Captain narrated with a considerable amount of self-vindication), the Captain laid himself along at full length, and the baboon walked over him. So they parted; each went his own way; and the Captain embraced the earliest opportunity of transferring himself from the face

G

of the precipice to the summit, where I had the honour of landing him in the blowzed and colliquescent condition already described, getting no thanks for my trouble.

"Very glad to see you safe back again," said I. "Had you missed your footing, the result must

در

Here our conversation was interrupted by a distant bugle. We both knew the note: it sounded for some one escaping to the enemy's lines. Then followed a cannonshot from the Queen's Battery, then a dropping fire of musketry.

In order to see what was in the wind, we both made the best of our way back to the Rock Guard, whence there was a clear view, the whole of the "Neutral Ground," or space between the enemy's lines and our own, lying spread out almost beneath our feet. At first nothing was visible, save the occasional striking of our shot, as they knocked up the sand. Presently, however, we distinguished a little black speck, which was evidently making the best of its way to the hostile lines.

Our glasses were promptly in requisition. The party escaping was at once brought nigh to the Captain's eye as well as mine. The fugitive ran well. No wonder; he ran for his life.

Presently, heedless of the fire, he paused, coolly faced round, laid one hand on his heart, with the other took off his hat, and made a profound semicircular obeisance to the garrison. He then skipped down into the enemy's trenches, and was lost to our view.

But not till he had been recognised both by the Captain and myself. "That little wretch of a Frenchman!" exclaimed the Captain.

The ludicrous reality broke at once upon my mind. "THE BABOON!" I replied.

Captain Schnaub turned on me like a tiger.

I didn't want to hurt the Captain's feelings; but the whole thing was so unutterably comical, laughter was irrepressible. So I laughed heartily; there was no helping it.

The Captain's rage knew no bounds. It was too clear :- "that little wretch" had again been too much for him; had disguised himself, had taken the path at the back of the Rock, had there met the Captain, and had got off undetected and unsuspected. The Captain, to hide his wrath and mortification, was again disposed to quarrel. Perceiving, however, that I continued far less inclined to wrangle than to laugh, he gradually toned down, and turned sulky. Savage that the "little wretch" had got off, what chiefly stung him was one particular incident. After some minutes' gloomy silence it at length came out:-"To think that I was his bridge, and that he actually walked over me from end to end !"

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Never mind, Captain," said I. "Considering your different amplitudes, he knew very well it would be a much more serious business if you walked over him; so of two evils he chose the less. And now let me advise you to keep your own counsel. Nobody in the garrison knows of this little affair at the back of the Rock but our two selves; and I shall not mention it."

Somewhat mollified, the Captain awhile remained silent and pensive. At length, growing confidential, and speaking low, "Do you know," said he, "just as he had got his beastly foot on the small of my back, he gave utterance to a strange sort of guttural cry, which I did think rather odd as coming from a baboon; a kind of mixture between a chuckle and the crowing of a cock!"

So, then, the little Frenchman had felt such intense exultation at the rich idea of walking over the Captain, that, between crowing and chuckling, he had nearly betrayed himself, and stood detected a man, and no monkey.

However, though the joke would have exhilarated the whole garrison, I kept my promise, and did not tell; so the Captain was not made a laughingstock. There was a strict examination of the quar

ters which had been occupied by M. de Montmaur; but the search brought nothing to light which indicated preparations for leaving. He had doubtless been aided in his escape by some party or parties within the garrison. It transpired that he had been wholly absent from his apartment during the fourand-twenty hours which immediately preceded his flight; and for not reporting this, the proprietor, a civilian, had to pay a small pecuniary fine-a far lighter punishment than he deserved.

Whether the baboon carried any important information respecting the state of affairs within the fortress to our enemies without, we never learned. If he did, it mattered little. A few days after came their grand attack. We burnt their floating batteries; and shortly after, the siege was raised.

Passing along the sea-wall the second day after the attack, I noticed a brother officer with his elbows on the parapet, blowing a cloud. I was soon by his side, doing as he did.

Our faces were towards the water. We saw the whole surface of the bay covered with fragments of wreck, the debris of battered galleons. And let me remark, if we had not burnt them we should have sunk them, so steady and overwhelming was the fire of our artillery. True, we fired red-hot balls; but I quite agreed with the remark of an old artillery officer, "Sir, we could have beaten them with cold shot."

Among the wreck that had floated in, my companion and I noticed several human bodies poppling up and down, now visible, now disappearing, as they were rolled and tossed by the waves-the corpses of our enemies who had perished in the attack. Up bobbed a very dark face.

"Ah," said my companion, "that's an Andaluz. How curious! Those fellows always call themselves Blancos; and they are only half a shade lighter than the Moors over there on the other side."

"Look there," said I; "alas, a poor priest ! Don't you see his shaven crown?"

"See this little one," said he, "close in by the shore." "A drummer-boy," said I. "More likely a powder-monkey," said he.

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Military," said I. "Naval," said he.

Each of us begged leave to assure the other that he was as blind as a bat. The difference, of course, led to a wager; and we walked down together to the shore, in order to ascertain which had won.

The sufferer floated prone, with his head under water. A soldier turned him over for us with the butt-end of his musket. No powder-monkey, no drummer-boy! It was my poor little friend, M. de Montmaur!

On one side of his head and face was a tremendous contusion, enough to have killed a much bigger man. At least, then, he had escaped the horrors of suffocation or slow combustion, the lot of so many Spaniards on the awful night of the attack. Ah, the yells of a thousand autos-da-fe seemed all to be concentrated and avenged in the fearful screams that came in to us from the burning ships!

I at once took charge of the corpse, and then and there determined to give my little lamented friend a soldier's funeral according to his rank.

But he had cut and run. he receive military honours ?

Could

Yes. He had never given his parole; and he had only availed himself of every prisoner's right by all the laws of war, to escape if he can.

The funeral was very generally attended by the officers of the garrison, amongst whom M. de Montmaur had been laughed at and rather liked. It was not altogether to the liking of Captain Schnaub; but that gallant officer also, yielding to my persuasive powers, was present with the rest.

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IT is a singular feature in the construction of the human mind, that the most violent passions should always be excited by the consideration of problems impossible of solution. Plain facts, susceptible of proof, have no charm to dogmatists, for one can only dogmatise where, from the nature of the point at issue, the major proposition must always remain a matter of opinion, or of faith. In theology, controversies of this description have always existed; in science, though taking the form of moral rather than physical violence, the most bitter animosities are perpetually being engendered. Silurian and Cambrian have been the under-strata of many a dispute ; there is hardly an instance of an officer ever having tried to get to the north pole without being put under arrest. "The species" can't discuss its own origin," without becoming so violently excited as to endanger its peace of mind; and if it is any satisfaction to those who are still maintaining a bitter controversy as to "the source of the Nile" to hear it, we can assure them that they may fight about it for ever, for it is as impossible to discover in a precise form the source of a mighty river as the origin of a race. We are quite prepared to maintain that no man knows the source of the Thames, or ever will know it; that the seven wells in which it is popularly supposed to take its rise are not as far by water from the mouth of the river as another spring we know of, but decline to mention; and we have great pleasure in throwing down to the querulous company of African geographers old Father Thames as a much more exciting bone of contention than old Father Nile, as it will have the advantage of enabling a much larger number of

persons to take an active share in the dispute. If that eminent geographer, Mr M'Queen, would lead an expedition, with his friend Captain Richard Burton as second in command, into the interior of the Cotswold Hills, how entertained. we should all be with their quarrel when they got back, for we should be able to enter into their arguments, and appreciate their little personalities, whereas now the subject is so involved that we fail sometimes to see the point of the opprobrious epithet, or to estimate at its full value the covert sneer. The prospect of what this Nile controversy may lead to socially is too horrible to contemplate. Is the fact of being interested in the source of the Nile synonymous with being unscrupulous in one's hatreds? Are we to go about the world saying, on a first introduction to a man, "Do you care about the Nile, or do you not agree with me that Africa is a bore rather than otherwise? for unless you do, I really cannot venture to cultivate your acquaintance;" or is the fact that we entertain a certain curiosity about unsolved African problems to justify us not only in libelling our living foes, but in holding up to contempt the memories of those who were lately with us and are now no more?

Here, for instance, is a specimen of the ingenious way in which Captain Burton drags into the light of day a gentleman against whom he entertains a grudge, wraps him up in a mystery of wickedness by innuendo, and borrows, probably because he is afraid of being libellous, Mr Disraeli's sarcasm with which to impale his enemy upon the Nile controversy. The immediate sin of which his victim is guilty is in having combined with the civic authorities at Southampton to pay Captain