Djemila can be seen in a morning, but a week would seem more like the period required really to study the ruins properly. The first thing that strikes one on entering the precincts of the ruins is why this town was built on a spur so far below the mountains which tower menacingly above. The reason is quite clear. At the end of the first century, when the city was founded, the main roads ran along the bottom of the valleys, and it was therefore necessary to plan the military centers at some point where they not only formed a guard over the long arteries of civilization, but also a stage for the caravans as they passed up and down from Constantine and from the coast. But quite apart from the military side of the question, Djemila under the Romans was one of the great cereal centers of the empire and within its walls the grain was brought to be despatched to the far-flung limits of the mighty empire. The first portion of the town to be visited is the Christian quarter. Begun in the third century it rapidly grew in importance and was undoubtedly the see of a bishop. The great basilica of Cresconius was built by this Christian bishop as a mausoleum for his predecessors. There are two other churches excavated near this cathedral, and there are no doubt other important buildings still under the earth. The most interesting edifice, perhaps the most interesting in all the Roman remains on account of its state of preservation, is the baptistery. To the reader used to well-preserved churches and art museums in Europe it is difficult to convey the real impression created on the mind on entering the low doorway of this first evidence of Christianity in this part of the world: outside, the desolation of the barren hills and the sadness of the gray ruins; inside, the fresh color of mosaics, stuccoed niches, graceful pillars. A gallery runs round the actual place of immersion, lined with hollowed-out seats, reminding one of the stalls in some university chapel in England. Rich gold mosaics stud the walls; on the floor all kinds of intricate designs in rich colors, which make one realize the trouble taken by that dead race to beautify all that was their work. At each end of the baptistery, two doors lead into the center portion where the converts were christened. The floor is carpeted with delicately colored pictures of fishes and seashells; above, a canopy carved out of one block of solid stone rests on four pillars; on the floor of the primitive font a mosaic inscription in Latin reads: “A day will come when all people will have been baptized.” It is with a feeling of reverence that one quits this jewel in the midst of the ruins. It seems useless to describe the other edifices in detail; they are like all Roman ruins, and require the atmosphere of loneliness to produce their effect. A few words will suffice: