nce and art, the
Egyptians.

Naturally, every traveler who enters the harbor of Rhodes hopes to see
the site of one of the seven wonders of the world, the Colossus. He is
free to place it on either mole at the entrance of the harbor, but he
comprehends at once that a statue which was only one hundred and five
feet high could never have extended its legs across the port. The fame
of this colossal bronze statue of the sun is disproportioned to the
period of its existence; it stood only fifty-six years after its
erection, being shaken down by an earthquake in the year 224 B.C., and
encumbering the ground with its fragments till the advent of the Moslem
conquerors.

Passing from the quay through a highly ornamented Gothic gateway, we
ascended the famous historic street, still called the Street of the
Knights, the massive houses of which have withstood the shocks of
earthquakes and the devastation of Saracenic and Turkish occupation.
This street, of whose palaces we have heard so much, is not imposing; it
is not wide, its solid stone houses are only two stories high, and their
fronts are now disfigured by cheap Arab balconies; but the facades are
gray with age. All along are remains of carved windows. Gothic
sculptured doorways and shields and coats of arms, crosses and armorial
legends, are set in the walls, partially defaced by time and the respect
of Suleiman for the Knights, have spared the mementos of their faith and
prowess. I saw no inscriptions that are intact, but made out upon one
shield the words "voluntas mei est." The carving is all beautiful.

We went through the silent streets, waking only echoes of the past, out
to the ruins of the once elegant church of St. John, which was shaken
down by a powder-explosion some thirty years ago, and utterly flattened
by an earthquake some years afterward. Outside the ramparts we met, and
saluted, with the freedom of travelers, a gorgeous Turk who was taking
the morning air, and whom our guide in bated breath said was the
governor. In this part of the town is the Mosque of Suleiman; in the
portal are two lovely marble columns, rich with age; the lintels are
exquisitely carved with flowers, arms, casques, musical instruments, the
crossed sword and the torch, and the mandolin, perhaps the emblem of
some troubadour knight. Wherever we went we found bits of old carving,
remains of columns, sections of battlemented roofs. The town is
saturated with the old Knights. Near the mos