cisterns; an inconvenience, however, which is in a great measure counterbalanced by the absence of wolves, bears, and other wild beasts.

Captain Carlton, an Englishman, who visited Monserrat some years ago, ascended to the loftiest hermitage, that of St. Jerome, by the means of spiral steps hewn out in the rock on account of the steep aclivity. This, he observes could not, in his time be well accomplished by a stranger, without following the footsteps of an old ass, who carried from the convent a daily supply of food to the hermits. This animal having his two panniers stored with the provisions divided into portions, climbed without a guide, and having stopped at each of the cells, where the hermit took the portion allotted to him, returned back to the convent. He found that one of these hermits, to beguile the wearisomeness of his solitude, had contrived so effectually to tame the birds which frequented the groves surrounding his hermitage, that he could draw them together with a whistle, when they perched on his head, breast, and shoulders, taking the food from his mouth.

The convent is situated on the eastern side of the mountain, which seems to have been split by vast torrents of water, or by some violent convulsion of nature in this way a platform has been formed in the cleft, sufficiently ample for the purpose of its construction. It is one of the forty-five religious houses of the Spanish congregation of the order of St. Benedict. The monks are bound to supply food and lodging for three days to all pilgrims who come up to pay their homage to the Virgin; besides which, they entertain the hermits on Sundays. The latter, who make a vow never to quit the mountain, take their stations by seniority, the junior hermit being placed at the greatest distance from the convent, and descending progressively as the vacancies happen. They are not altogether idle, taking pains to rival each other in making basket-works and other fanciful productions, which they display with great affability to their visitors. They assemble every morning to hear mass and perform divine service, in the parishchurch of St. Cecilia, which lies considerably above the convent; and twice a week they confess and communicate. They wear their beards long, and are clad in brown.

The church of St. Cecilia is a gloomy edifice, the gilding

of which is much sullied by the smoke of eighty-five silver lamps, of various forms and sizes, suspended round the cornice of the sanctuary. For the supply of these with oil, funds have been bequeathed by devotees. The choir is decorated with wood carvings, curiously wrought, representing the most prominent passages in the life of Christ.

THE PEAK OF TENERIFFE.
[See Plate No. 3.]

THE Island of Teneriffe has received its present name from the inhabitants of the adjacent island-Palma, in whose language tener signifies snow, and iffe, a hill. In-extent, wealth, and fertility, it exceeds all the other Canary islands. It continues to rise on all sides from the sea, until it terminates in the celebrated Peak, which is, however, situated rather in the southern part than in the centre of the island. The ascent on the north side is more gradual than at the other parts, there being a space along the shore about three leagues in breadth, bounded on the sides by high mountains, or rather cliffs; but more inland it rises like a hanging garden all the way, without any considerable interruption of hills or vallies. The form of this island is triangular, extending itself into three capes, the nearest of which is about eighty leagues from the coast of Africa. In the middle it is divided by a ridge of mountains, which have been compared to the roof of a church, the Peak forming the spire or steeple in the centre.

The elevation of the Peak of Teneriffe, according to the most accurate measurement, made by Cordier, is 12,166 feet, nearly two miles and one-third above the level of the sea. In the ascent, the first eminence is called Monte Verde, or the green mountain, from the high fern with which it is covered, and presents a level plain of considerable extent. Beyond this is the Mountain of Pines, which are said to have formerly grown there in great abundance; but its steep sides are now become craggy and barren, and its whole appearance very different from that of the eminence described above. After passing this summit, the traveller reaches a plain, on which the natives have bestowed the name of Mouton de Trigo, and upon which the peak in reality stands. It is a mountainous platform, rising more

than seven thousand feet, nearly a mile and a half, above the level of the sea; and here the currents of lava, hitherto concealed by the vegetation, begin to appear in all their aridity and confusion, a few lowly shrubs and creeping plants alone diversifying the surface of a desert, the most arid and rugged that can be imagined.

A small sandy platform of pumice stones, bordered by two enormous currents of vitreous lava, and blocks of the same nature, ranged in a semicircle, forms what is called the Station of the English, on account of the Peak having been so often visited by British travellers. This platform is 9,786 feet, upwards of a mile and three quarters, above the level of the sea; and beyond it the acclivity is very steep, great masses of scoriæ, extremely rough and sharp, covering the currents of lava. Towards the summit, nothing but pumice stone is to be seen. In fact the peak can only be ascended on the east and south-east sides. As it is impossible to get round the crater, the traveller's progress is arrested at the spot at which he reaches it. Here the twó orders of volcanic substances are to be seen, the modern lavas being thrown up amid the ruins of ejections much more ancient, the immense masses of which constitute the platform on which the Peak is placed. The shattered sides present a series of thick beds, almost all plunging towards the sea, composed alternately of ashes, volcanic sand, pumice stones, lavas, either compact or porous, and scoriæ. An incalculable number of currents, comparatively recent, which have descended from the Peak, or have issued from its flanks, form irregular furrows, which run along the more ancient masses, and lose themselves in the sea to the west and north. Among these currents more than eighty craters are scattered, and augment with their ruins the confusion which prevails throughout.

The crater can alone be reached by descending down three chasms. Its sides are absolutely precipitous withun, and are most elevated towards the north. Its form is elliptical; its circumference about one thousand two hundred feet; and its depth according to Cordier, one hundred and ten feet. Humboldt, however, estimates it at not more than from forty to sixty feet. The sides are, agreeably to the former of these observers, formed of an earth of snowy whiteness, resulting from the decomposition of the blackest