many centuries ago, were still looking grimly out of ruined portholes, and just below the portholes the waves were tumbling noisily, as if anxious to climb up the rocks and complete the ruin of the place. Near the old fort was a lighthouse, flashing its signals out to sea, and directly in front of the lighthouse was the wreck of a steamship. The tide was out, and we went on board for a few minutes. There is probably nothing which so completely depicts ruin and desolation as a wrecked ship, lying on its side, and stripped of everything of value by vandals and the sea. We also climbed up to the lighthouse tower, and the keeper showed us the mechanism. It was the first lighthouse I have ever inspected at close quarters; usually they are located on rocks hard to get to. . . . When we went back to town, neither English nor German money would satisfy the trolley-boys, so I went into the shop of a money-changer, and paid twelve cents for enough Indian rupees to satisfy my creditors. The three trolley-boys who had taken us to the old fort took us to the landing, at a breakneck speed. One of the three rode all the time, and they relieved each other at the work of pushing. When the grade was down-hill, they all rode. Down one long hill we must have traveled at the rate of thirty miles an hour. When we left the trolley, we were seized upon by a boatman who had wandered from the landing to get the first chance at ship passengers returning from town.
"Promise me, master," he said; "me No. 67." We promised, and followed him to the landing. Other boatmen constantly joined our procession, and we were soon in the center of a howling, fighting mob, but we
