-which
Spratt supposes the ancient city--was Achaia, the location of which he
avoids by supposing it a district, rather than a city, forgetting that
in those days no one dwelt outside of city walls. My hypothesis, coupled
with that of the identity of Platania with Pergamos, would satisfy all
the exigencies of the case, which that of neither Spratt nor Pashley
does. For the rest, Pergamos is mainly interesting as the burial-place
of Lycurgus.

From our point of view on the Akroteri, we see the whole domain of
Cydonia,--as at our left Suda Bay terminates the view, (on the first
plateau eastward of the bay Aptera presided,) while the Dictynnian hills
divide it from the plain of Kisamos to the west, and the mountains rise
abruptly to the south;--a little kingdom well defined, one of the most
perfectly beautiful territories the tourist can find, and still
fertile,--though the hills have forgotten their fruit and the plain its
river,--and capable of sustaining a much larger population than it now
supports, if the Mohammedan blight were off it.

Almost at the foot of the ridge where we stand is a beautiful example of
a Venetian fortified country-house,--a little castle, turreted and
loop-holed, with a drawbridge thrown from a tower rising opposite the
doorway, and still in excellent preservation. Other similar houses may
be seen, but I have nowhere in the island found one so fine as this. At
the farther edge of the plain, lying along under the hills, is a
succession of white villages,--Zukalaria, Nerokouro (running water),
Murnies, celebrated for its oranges and the brutal and gratuitous
massacre by Mustapha Pacha (late Imperial Commissioner), in 1833,
Boutzounaria (dripping water), first place of assembling of the Cretan
malcontents in 1866, Perivolia, Galatas, Hagia Marina, and Platania, by
the sea.

Off Platania is the island of St. Theodore, whose fortress, defended by
the Venetian mercenaries against the Turks, showed one of those examples
of heroic constancy we so generally and erroneously attribute to
patriotic courage; for, defying the enemy to the last, the garrison
defended the castle until the Turks had stormed and filled it with their
numbers, and then blew it up, destroying every one within the walls. The
foundations still remain, but level with the cemented floor; everything
is razed cleanly, while the fragments lie along the slopes like the
ejections of a volcano.

Midway between the Akroteri and Canea lies