nation, and am apt to believe them much more ancient.

WE saw very plainly from this promontory, the river Simois rolling
from mount Ida, and running through a very spacious valley. It is
now a considerable river, and is called Simores, it is joined in the
vale by the Scamander, which appeared a small stream half choaked
(sic) with mud, but is perhaps large in the winter. This was Xanthus
amongst the gods, as Homer tells us; and 'tis by that heavenly name,
the nymph Oenone invokes it, in her epistle to Paris. The Trojan
virgins used to offer their first favours to it, by the name of
Scamander, till the adventure, which Monsieur de la Fontaine has told
so agreeably, abolish'd that heathenish ceremony. When the stream is
mingled with the Simois, they run together to the sea.

ALL that is now left of Troy is the ground on which it stood; for, I
am firmly persuaded, whatever pieces of antiquity may be found round
it, are much more modern, and I think Strabo says the same thing.
However, there is some pleasure in seeing the valley where I imagined
the famous duel of Menelaus and Paris had been fought, and where the
greatest city in the world was situated. 'Tis certainly the noblest
situation that can be found for the head of a great empire, much to
be preferred to that of Constantinople, the harbour here being always
convenient for ships from all parts of the world, and that of
Constantinople inaccessible almost six months in the year, while the
north-wind reigns.

NORTH of the promontory of Sigaeum we saw that of Rhaeteum, famed for
the sepulchre of Ajax. While I viewed these celebrated fields and
rivers, I admired the exact geography of Homer, whom I had in my
hand. Almost every epithet he gives to a mountain or plain, is still
just for it; and I spent several hours here in as agreeable
cogitations, as ever Don Quixote had on mount Montesinos. We sailed
next night to the shore, where 'tis vulgarly reported Troy stood; and
I took the pains of rising at two in the morning to view cooly those
ruins which are commonly shewed to strangers, and which the Turks
call _Eski Stamboul, i.e._ Old Constantinople. For that reason, as
well as some others, I conjecture them to be the remains of that city
begun by Constantine. I hired an ass (the only voiture to be had
there) that I might go some miles into the country, and take a tour
round the ancient walls, which are of a vast extent. We found the
remains of a castle on a