belonged to some temple to Diana.

Passing through the village we came to a grand artificial platform on its
western side, called the Acropolis. It is of solid masonry, five hundred
feet square, and averaging ten feet in height. On the eastern side it is
supported on rude though massive arches, resembling Etruscan workmanship.
On the top and around the edges of this platform lie great numbers of
fluted columns, and immense fragments of cornice and architrave. In the
centre, on a foundation platform about eight feet high, stands a beautiful
Ionic temple, one hundred feet in length. On approaching, it appeared
nearly perfect, except the roof, and so many of the columns remain
standing that its ruined condition scarcely injures the effect. There are
seventeen columns on the side and eight at the end, Ionic in style,
fluted, and fifty feet in height. About half the cella remains, with an
elegant frieze and cornice along the top, and a series of tablets, set in
panels of ornamental sculpture, running along the sides. The front of the
cella includes a small open peristyle, with two composite Corinthian
columns at the entrance, making, with those of the outer colonnade,
eighteen columns standing. The tablets contain Greek inscriptions,
perfectly legible, where the stone has not been shattered. Under the
temple there are large vaults, which we found filled up with young kids,
who had gone in there to escape the heat of the sun. The portico was
occupied by sheep, which at first refused to make room for us, and gave
strong olfactory evidence of their partiality for the temple as a
resting-place.

On the side of a hill, about three hundred yards to the north, are the
remains of a theatre. Crossing some patches of barley and lentils, we
entered a stadium, forming an extension of the theatre---that is, it took
the same breadth and direction, so that the two might be considered as one
grand work, more than one thousand feet long by nearly four hundred wide.
The walls of the stadium are hurled down, except an entrance of five
arches of massive masonry, on the western side. We rode up the artificial
valley, between high, grassy hills, completely covered with what at a
distance resembled loose boards, but which were actually the long marble
seats of the stadium. Urging our horses over piles of loose blocks, we
reached the base of the theatre, climbed the fragments that cumber the
main entrance, and looked on the spacious arena and gall