The words were spoken of this particular portion of Africa, I believe.

On our left were the granite-ribbed domes of old Spain. The strait is

only thirteen miles wide in its narrowest part.

At short intervals along the Spanish shore were quaint-looking old stone

towers--Moorish, we thought--but learned better afterwards. In former

times the Morocco rascals used to coast along the Spanish Main in their

boats till a safe opportunity seemed to present itself, and then dart in

and capture a Spanish village and carry off all the pretty women they

could find. It was a pleasant business, and was very popular. The

Spaniards built these watchtowers on the hills to enable them to keep a

sharper lookout on the Moroccan speculators.

The picture on the other hand was very beautiful to eyes weary of the

changeless sea, and by and by the ship's company grew wonderfully

cheerful. But while we stood admiring the cloud-capped peaks and the

lowlands robed in misty gloom a finer picture burst upon us and chained

every eye like a magnet--a stately ship, with canvas piled on canvas till

she was one towering mass of bellying sail! She came speeding over the

sea like a great bird. Africa and Spain were forgotten. All homage was

for the beautiful stranger. While everybody gazed she swept superbly by

and flung the Stars and Stripes to the breeze! Quicker than thought,

hats and handkerchiefs flashed in the air, and a cheer went up! She was

beautiful before--she was radiant now. Many a one on our decks knew then

for the first time how tame a sight his country's flag is at home

compared to what it is in a foreign land. To see it is to see a vision

The Innocents Abroad