chasm in the mesa or table-land runs down under the outer wall of this rock, without cutting through it at the top; and the waves, surging and whirling incessantly in and out at the bottom, have arched the opening beneath, and worn it into the exact shape of a long span of some monster stone bridge builded by ambitious human hands. On either side of the main arch are two long narrow spout-holes or flumes, running through the abutments or piers to the sea, and through these the flood surges in and out with a great swash and roar, with every rising and falling wave. Brilliant-hued pebbles and fragments of rainbow-colored abalone shells, worn smooth by attrition, are washed back and forth by the deep blue waters as the waves roll in and out, and beautiful feathery mosses, from the great depths of the sea, are left on the beach by every falling tide. The upper end of the canon is sheltered completely from the winds, and, being dry and warm, is a favorite resort for picnickers and the lovers of roast mussels and clams, who find fuel in abundance scattered about, and can gather the bivalves by bushels or even cartloads here all the year round. At some seasons, for reasons not fully understood, the monster mussels of the California coast become poisonous to the last degree, and whole parties are poisoned, sometimes with fatal results, from eating them, nearly every year. They are of a beautiful yellow hue when cooked, as rich as a banana fried in butter; and I know old mussel-fanciers who have been poisoned over and over again, but return to the charge year after year, preferring the chances of
