Los Angeles daily herald., 1873-11-14
THE MAN ON THE CLIFF.

pain Jnem. l can only relate the
events as they occurred to me, leaving
the reader to form his own Judgment,
scientific or otherwise, upon the mar
rative.
In the summer of 1856, an unusual
ly warm and dry one it was, / remem-
ber / had occasion to visit the North
coast of Spain on professional business.
am a painter, and | starred off to
ramble the best way l liked, to the
sunny land-through Paris, the gay
city of pleasure; through tlt fertile
plains of LanguedOc to the West, and
to the Pyreneese, which lowered al
most above my head, rejecting the
last rays of the setting sun in tints of
gorgeous splendor, as 1 sighted the
little town of Bayonne, one summers s
evening. On through Biarritz to
quaint st. Jean de Luce, nesting at
the foot of the mountains, with the
melodious sound of sheep-bells far up
on the heights floating on the evening
air, and the lights from the cottage
windows dotting the hillside, like dis
tant glowworms in forest of embo-
soming green.
| was loath to leave this sweet spot,
with the quaint costumes and kindly
peasantry; for had spent very hap
by time in that border-town of France,
once renowned in history, now slum-
bering in oblivion, with the memory
of the past only clinging to its grey
walls. But had to see another cOun-
try, and my time was short; SO one
morning left the slumbering town
far behind me, and had at last started
on my onward and upward journey
across the Pyreneese.
will say little of the difficulties
and trials of patience which ensued
during those weary hours. Happy
was | when, skirting Irun, I entered
Spanish territory, and drove at night
fall into the town of San Sebastian.
The reader will probably inquire why
| am dragging him through scenes
with which he is probably as familiar
as myself; but the object | have in
view is to show how indisposed my
mind was at this time to any super
natural impression. This must be
clearly understood. And now for my
story.
| had finally left San Sebastian, and
settled myself and my belongings in a
small fishing village about fifteen
miles to the West, where 1 had arrived
early on clear Sumner morning at
the end of July. | was employed for
II few days in putting my various lit
tie impediments into something like
order-which, after the desultory
habits | had acquired since leaving
England, was not an easy task; but
| soon found myself fairly settled and
comfortable in small but clean cot
tage, on the Summit OF Il cliff COM
manding fine and uninterrupted
view OF the sea.
/ was never tired admiring the gor-
geous sunsets, which [ think | have
rarely seen in my travels to such per-
lection as on that lonely coast; and
evening after evening would | walk
out from my dwelling, and linger till
the rosy tints mellowed to saffron
hue, and then changed slowly to u
pale golden sky, through which
the stars, as with timid gaze,
appeared one by one, but dimly, UNI
til the twilight fell upon the calm sea.
The afternoon, it was the 18th OF
August remember the day distinct
~, as | have every reason to do
had wandered farther than was my
habit, far out along the cliffs, watch
ing the ever-varying features OF the
ocean, and wondering at the strange
aspect of the sky. The clouds seemed
torn asunder, as if in long wreaths of
duslSy smoke, and the dying light of
the setting sun was obscured by dark,
angry-looking banks of vapor, that
appeared to come out from westward,
farther than the eye could reach.
Twas so attracted by the unusual
aspect of the elements, and my own
thoughts-which were pleasant ones
that / did not notice the sudden dark
ness that was rapidly setting i'll, al
though it was not yet seven O'Clock.
AS soon, however, as l perceived it
with thought OF my own folly for
having come so far, and being SO un-
prepared for rough weather. deter
mined to retrace my steps with all
the speed in my power; and strap
ping my painting traps upon my back
again, i turned for home.
Down from the place where
| stood, the cliff fell sheer half
way to the beach; then rocks of
great magnitude ran lalong its base,
and extended far into the sea,
presenting grand and terrible
Sight, as the angry waves dashed over
them, throwing up feathery spray
high into the air. ==..=.-
AS | turned to leave the spot, | was
suddenly startled apparently from far
out to sea.
1t seemed like the faint beat of a
drum, rising and falling with the
strength of the wind, and strangely
mingling with the roar and dash of
the waves upon the shore. e.
Although it was dark for that time
of the evening, l could yet plainly
discern the entire surface of the ocean,
and not trace of q vessel of any des
cription was there in sight. Puzzled
by this mysterious occurrence, but
thinking it was most likely caused by
the action of the water upon some
subterranean cavern, was once more
about to battle my way against the
tummltuous wind homeWards, when it
appeared to me that the sound was
approaching nearer-nearer, hoating
across the dark, troubled waters in a
prolonged roll, as from a great num-
Der of drums. They were beating
what seemed to be the call to quarters,
from some unknown ship; for, look as
| might, not vestige OF one was to be
seen upon the ocean. ,lae.
AS it came nearer-not five hundred
yards apparently from where stood,
/ distinctly heard the single and dou-
BILE beat, and all the varied sounds
produced by the drummers art; but
still this awful fact: l was compelled
to acknowledge there was no ship in