GIBRALTAR.
My official reminiscences are nearly terminated. The latter years of my magistracy were not marked by any important public events or political excitement. In 1861 my health became seriously impaired, and a medical commission of six members reported in favor of my superannuation. My dear friend, Marcus Costello, the attorney-general of Gibraltar, having been apprised that I had been greatly debilitated by bronchitis and pleurisy, sent me a brief note to go out at once, and to say by return of post when he might expect me. In compliance with his invitation, I sailed from Southampton on the 27th of April, in the Peninsular and Oriental Company's steamer, "Delta," and on the 29th we were crossing the Bay of Biscay. My memory reverted to a ballad which I had heard sung by Incledon, descriptive of the fearfully tempestuous state in which that bay is generally found. One of his verses is, I believe, as follows:—
"Loud roar'd the dreadful thunder,
The rain a deluge show'rs,
The clouds were rent asunder
By lightning's vivid powers.
The night all drear and dark,
Closed round our wretched bark,
As she lay, on that day,
In the Bay of Biscay, O!"
I presume to attempt a description of what I observed in crossing this estuary; and I can truly affirm, that whatever may be the defects of my composition, it does not contain the slightest exaggeration—
"The light-blue sky is o'er us,
The dark-blue sea beneath,
The wave scarce moves before us,
As zephyrs gently breathe.
The great unfathom'd deep,
Calm as an infant's sleep,
Cheers our way, on this day,
Through the Bay of Biscay, O!
"The mighty steam-ship cleaving
The tide, displays her pow'r,
The wondrous feat achieving
Of fifteen knots an hour;
We speedily shall gain
A sight of sunny Spain.
No delay checks our way
Through the Bay of Biscay, O!"
When we did attain sight of the Spanish coast, it afforded a very marked contrast to the picturesque views presented by the shores of Ireland and England. There were no towering and precipitous cliffs or verdant slopes to be seen, and almost the only indications of the country being inhabited were some watch-towers, from which in former days warning signals were exhibited to denote the approach of hostile or predatory vessels from Algiers or Barbary. Being totally unacquainted with Transatlantic and Mediterranean scenery, I can exercise a very limited judgment, but of all the marine views I have seen I consider the most beautiful to be the Bay of Dublin, and the ugliest to be the far-famed Trafalgar.
I landed at Gibraltar on the 2nd of May, and was not inclined, at my arrival, to form a very favorable opinion of the climate, for I never had previously seen such heavy rain as fell on that day, and continued until midnight. Mr. Costello's man-servant, hearing me remark the unpleasant state of the weather, said, "that it was the last rain of the season, and that we should have no more until the middle of September." I did not attach much credence to his statement, but although my visit lasted for four months, I never saw another drop of rain there. He was a native of the place, and spoke from experience.
My friend's residence was not far from the southern extremity of Gibraltar, which is also supposed to be the southern extremity of Europe, and there were three roads leading from it to the main body of the city which is near the north front. They were constructed, I suppose, for the purpose of affording the most ample means of communication along the sloping face of the mountain, and between the batteries which defiantly bristle all through the territory. On the second day of my arrival, I set out to walk to the town, and for the sake of the view which it commanded, I took the most elevated road. There were no dwellings on it, and it went through an exhausted quarry, to which the drummers and bugle boys were brought for instruction. A squad of them were about to commence their practice just as I passed their front, whereupon one of them lowered his instrument, and exclaimed to a comrade, "Oh! Fitzpatrick, there's ould Porter from Dublin." On reaching the city I was recognised by some officers of the 7th Fusiliers. Indeed I am disposed to believe that a considerable number of the private soldiers of the garrison had been attested by me in the Dublin police-court, for I received frequent salutes whenever I sauntered past the barracks or guard stations.
My health rapidly improved, and in a few days I attained renovated strength. There was no lack of varied amusement or social enjoyment, and until the intense heat of July and August precluded any movement outside the house, between morning and evening, I never passed a tedious or tiresome minute. Even in the hot time, especially if the wind is westerly, an evening saunter along the low road and through the Alameda is very agreeable. The people, especially those of the Spanish race, rise about four or five o'clock in the morning during the sultry months. They go to market and attend to their commercial arrangements and domestic affairs until nine or ten o'clock, then, having breakfasted, they betake themselves to bed and enjoy a "Siesta." I adopted the same course as far as the retirement to bed was concerned, and found it extremely pleasant. I went to sleep almost immediately after lying down, and seldom awoke until four or five o'clock. Then walking slowly down to the bay I took a plunge in the salt water, and generally returned endowed with an appetite for a hearty dinner and a liberal supplement of sherry and ice, after which a stroll to the Alameda and a seat under the cool shade of an acacia or bella sombra tree, with a military band playing on an adjoining bastion, enabled me and my friend to pass the evening in good humour with the world and with each other.