s, which were shining brightly on Rock and
Bay. Even the heavy black guns looked peaceful in the soft and tender
light. It was the last night of the year--and therefore a holy night, as
it was to be marked by a Holy Nativity--the birth of a New Year, a
"holy child," as it would come from the hands of God unstained by sin.
A little before midnight I fell asleep, from which I started up at the
sound of the morning gun. The Old Year was dead! He had been a long time
dying, but there is always a shock when the end comes. And yet in that
same midnight a new star appeared in the East, bringing fresh hope to
the poor old world. Life and death are not divided. The very instant
that the old year died, the new year was born; and soon the dawn came
"blushing o'er the world," as if such a thing as death were unknown.
The bugles sounded the morning call, as they had sounded for the night's
repose. Scarcely had we caught the last echoes, that, growing fainter
and fainter, seemed to be wailing for the dying year, before a piercing
blast announced his successor. The King is dead! Long live the King!

  [Illustration: Moorish Castle.]




CHAPTER II.

CLIMBING THE ROCK.


It was a bright New-Year's morning, that first day of 1887, and how
could we begin the year better than by climbing to the top of the Rock
to get the outlook over land and sea? The ascent is not difficult, for
though the Rock is steep as well as high, a zigzag path winds up its
side, which to a good pedestrian is only a bracing walk, while a lady
can mount a little donkey and be carried to the very top. If you have
to go slowly, so much the better, for you will be glad to linger by
the way. As you mount higher and higher, the view spreads out wider and
wider. Below, the bay is placid as an inland lake, on which ships of
war are riding at anchor, "resting on their shadows," while vessels that
have brought supplies for the garrison are unlading at the New Mole.
Nor is the side of the Rock itself wanting in beauty. Gibraltar is not
a barren cliff; its very crags ar