CHAPTER XI.
"The human mind, that lofty thing, The palace and the throne, Where reason sits, a sceptred king, And breathes his judgment tone; Oh! I who with silent step shall trace The borders of that haunted place, Nor in his weakness own, That mystery and marvel bind That lofty thing--the human mind!" ANONYMOUS.
It is unnecessary to dwell on the glories of the Mediterranean.

They are familiar to every traveler, and books have again and again laid them before the imaginations of readers of all countries and ages.

Still, there are lights and shades peculiar to every picture, and this of ours has some of its own that merit a passing notice.

A sunset, in midsummer, can add to the graces of almost any scene.

Such was the hour when Raoul anchored; and Ghita, who had come on deck, now that the chase was over and the danger was thought to be past, fancied she had never seen her own Italy or the blue Mediterranean more lovely.
The shadows of the mountains were cast far upon the sea, long ere the sun had actually gone down, throwing the witchery of eventide over the whole of the eastern coast, some time before it came to grace its western.