bor, that appears like a beautiful lake, and is about two
miles long and one and a half broad. On the left of the island of Ortygia
is all that remains of the lesser port of Syracuse. On this side the
island is connected with the main land by means of a draw-bridge. In
Ortygia is the famous fountain of Arethusa: the spring is yet clear and
copious; but the only nymphs I was fortunate enough to see were engaged in
the necessary vocation of cleansing the soiled linen of Syracusa. The
remains of a beautiful temple of Minerva form a part of the cathedral
church. Near the small river Anapus are two columns, the remnants of a
temple of Jupiter, which once contained a statue of that god, wearing a
robe of gold; but Dionysius the tyrant stripped it off, saying 'it was too
cold for winter and too hot for summer.' Among the seats of a noble
theatre now stands a mill, that is supplied with water diverted from an
ancient aqueduct close by: a strange metamorphosis indeed! This aqueduct
conveys the water thirty miles. It may have been of Greek construction
originally, but that part of it which I have seen is evidently Saracenic.
The rocky site of Syracuse is in many parts perforated with tombs; the
roads are literally honey-combed with them. There is a street excavated in
the limestone rock which on either side is full of cells, and it may
indeed be said of Syracuse that it is a great burying-ground. The oranges,
vines, and figs of Syracuse are still flourishing, and the earth yet
yields its hundred fold; but its glory is departed, and the traveller
looks in vain for satisfactory vestiges of that mighty city.

There are many other interesting remains of antiquity in Sicily, but I
must hasten to a conclusion. I trust the reader will have found the
subject of this article interesting, although treated briefly and
imperfectly. The traveller is unworthy of his privilege, and forgetful of
duty if he extracts not from the scenes described some moral lesson or
religious truth. The reader has accompanied me in imagination through
classic Sicily. He has seen the lonely temple of Segeste, standing among
the mountains like a widowed thing, mourning in silence the departed.
Where is the multitude that once thronged around its walls? Mount Erix
still battles with the clouds, as in the days of Agathocles. He has
clambered with me among the prostrate columns of Selinunte: _once_, from
beneath those massive porticoes, the Selinuntine, in the pride of