inhospitable-looking cliffs a line of pale green betrayed the
presence of vegetation, and from thence it spread inland into vast-
rolling pastures ending far away at the outskirts of the bush, above
which could be seen giant mountains with snow-covered ranges. Over
all this strange contrast of savage arid coast and peaceful upland
there was a glaring red sky--not the delicate evanescent pink of an
ordinary sunset--but a fierce angry crimson which turned the wet
sands and dark expanse of ocean into the colour of blood. Far away
westward, where the sun--a molten ball of fire--was sinking behind
the snow-clad peaks, frowned long lines of gloomy clouds--like
prison bars through which the sinking orb glowed fiercely. Rising
from the east to the zenith of the sky was a huge black cloud
bearing a curious resemblance to a gigantic hand, the long lean
fingers of which were stretched threateningly out as if to grasp the
land and drag it back into the lurid sea of blood; altogether a
cruel, weird-looking scene, fantastic, unreal, and bizarre as one of
Dore's marvellous conceptions. Suddenly on the red waters there
appeared a black speck, rising and falling with the restless waves,
and ever drawing nearer and nearer to the gloomy cliffs and sandy
beach. When within a quarter of a mile of the shore, the speck
resolved itself into a boat, a mere shallop, painted a dingy white,
and much battered by the waves as it tossed lightly on the crimson
waters. It had one mast and a small sail all torn and patched, which
by some miracle held together, and swelling out to the wind drew the
boat nearer to the land. In this frail craft were two men, one of
whom was kneeling in the prow of the boat shading his eyes from the
sunlight with his hands and gazing eagerly at the cliffs, while the
other sat in the centre with bowed head, in an attitude of sullen
resignation, holding the straining sail by a stout rope twisted
round his arm. Neither of them spoke a word till within a short