384 Notes on Sport and Travel iv 



us for Gibraltar, and out of which they dare not poke 

 their noses for fear of being potted by the Moors. 



At last the Glinour rock opens out, a lion 

 couchant and regardant, his head resting on his paws 

 watching the Mediterranean, with his tail turned 

 contemptuously towards Spain ; it really is so with- 

 out the slightest effort of imagination. The Rock of 

 Gibraltar is light greenish gray with very sparse 

 vegetation ; the town of Gibraltar is yellow and 

 stretches along the western base of the hill. 



The first thing I wished for on landing was the 

 Neutral Ground, a place I always have had an intense 

 longing to see ever since I read old Drinkwater's 

 Siege, and that was some time ago. I was horribly 

 afraid that I should find it improved and trans- 

 mogrified, with barracks and drying grounds and 

 little Bethesdas all over it. But it was not ; it was 

 just what I expected, flat and sandy, with aloes 

 enough to give it character, and soldiers drilling and 

 marching and firing at marks. But what I did not 

 expect to see was the way the Rock rose out of it. 

 I have seen a few fine cliffs in my time, but I really 

 think I never saw the like of the north end of the 

 Rock of Gibraltar. Down from above in one sheer 

 unbroken wall fourteen hundred feet, not into the 

 sea, a mere rock for waves to break against, but 

 down into the land for men to surge against (from 

 that side) in vain. A cliff on land, — I do not mean 

 a mountain cliff with broken and rugged ground at 

 its base, but a cliff going sheer into a flat plain, is 



