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On the northern shore of Sicily are still to be seen the magnificent remains of a castle, which formerly belonged to the noble house of Mazzini. It stands in the centre of a small bay, and upon a gentle acclivity, which, on one side, slopes towards the sea, and on the other rises into an eminence crowned by dark woods. The situation is admirably beautiful and picturesque, and the ruins have an air of ancient grandeur, which, contrasted with the present solitude of the scene, impresses the traveller with awe and curiosity. During my travels abroad I visited this spot. As I walked over the loose fragments of stone, which lay scattered through the immense area of the fabrick, and surveyed the sublimity and grandeur of the ruins, I recurred, by a natural association of ideas, to the times when these walls stood proudly in their original splendour, when the halls were the scenes of hospitality and festive magnificence, and when they resounded with the voices of those whom death had long since swept from the earth. 'Thus,' said I, 'shall the present generation—he who now sinks in misery—and he who now swims in pleasure, alike pass away and be forgotten.' My heart swelled with the reflection; and, as I turned from the scene with a sigh, I fixed my eyes upon a friar, whose venerable figure, gently bending towards the earth, formed no uninteresting object in the picture. He observed my emotion; and, as my eye met his, shook his head and pointed to the ruin. 'These walls,' said he, 'were once the seat of luxury and vice. They exhibited a singular instance of the retribution of Heaven, and were from that period forsaken, and abandoned to decay.' His words excited my curiosity, and I enquired further concerning their meaning. Their flight was swift, swooping something like a bird’s. From one tower the bucket would speed, only to stop silently and, almost before its crossways movement had ended, it would drop to the surface of the work. An instant to unload the bucket and in a flash it was up and gliding like the wind back to its starting point. Little was said as they took Bob and hoisted him into the saddle of one of their horses. Harper got up behind him and handled the reins on either side of his body. He turned the horse’s head away from the trail into the low brush that here covered the ground. The other man followed..

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“Don’t know much about it, to tell you the truth. All the boatin’ I’ve done was in a flat bottomed scow I had up to the last flood. The high water swiped it on me and I reckon the Mexicans have got it by now,” he grinned. “I felt pretty sore about losing it, but my Dad figured it was good business. Said I spent too much time on the river anyhow; that I ought to be out riding range for him.” When you come across all kinds of folk, have a care “I’m sorry that I inflicted it all upon you, Bob. I was sort of acting the cry baby, wasn’t I?” Just as Bob was about to give up hope, for his fingers told him that the last pile of threads was about all gone, a sliver of flame ran up the stick he held in his left hand. It went out but a second later another one came and stayed!.