lso abounds upon the coast. It is a
lonely shore hereabout, with only an occasional ancient stone tower
commanding a view of the far-reaching Mediterranean. In troublous times
watch was kept from these stone structures, for the coming of Barbary
corsairs, or a possible Turkish inroad. There are a dozen or more of
these lookout stations, placed at suitable distances from each other.
They were built by Grand Master Martin de Redin more than two hundred
years ago, at his own expense, and form conspicuous objects on
approaching Malta from the northwest. They are now occupied by the
coast-guard placed here to watch for smugglers.

In the southwest part of the island, besides many more rock-cut tombs,
there are also some conspicuous ruins, showing the former existence here
of a large town, concerning which no other information survives. This
may also possibly have antedated the Phoenician period. One is led to
marvel that even the destructive power of time could have swept a large
and fixed population from the island, and have left no clearer record of
their existence behind them. The vicinity in which these ruins are found
affords a dreary prospect at present, whatever it may have been at some
former period. There is a trying meagreness in the landscape. One is
homesick for want of color. Everything except the sea is gray, while the
broad-spread rocky surface of the island is cheerless and repelling.
There are many caves on this southwest coast, some of which seem to
have been utilized as dwelling-places by a primitive people. Here and
there the calcareous rock has been worn into singular forms by
atmospheric influences and the incessant wash of the sea for ages, as
one sees the same material wrought upon at Biarritz, on the boisterous
Bay of Biscay. In one inlet there is a cavern very like the Blue Grotto
of Capri, in the Bay of Naples. Not far away is a natural arch, so broad
and high that a full-rigged ship of six hundred tons might sail through
it, with all her canvas spread and yards squared.

There are numerous heaps of ruins besides those we have mentioned, on
this side of the group, each one a history in itself, though nearly
effaced by time, written in a tongue which our scholars strive in vain
to unlock. The neighborhood is a Sahara of solitude, the scene of
gardens deserted long ago, abandoned vineyards, and palatial edifices
now nearly or quite crumbled to dust.

About six or seven miles from Valletta, near the