The amphitheatre stands on an area in a corner of the town, where it is seen to great advantage. Unlike the Coliseum, it is perfect, or nearly so, on the exterior, so that one can get an accurate notion of its general effect. The interior, also, is almost as perfect as that at Pompeii; and as the building is much larger, it may be included among the greatest of the works of the kind that have descended to our own times. There is a portion of it set apart for theatrical representations, by the erection of a stage and enclosing a few of the seats; and, truly, the difference between the scale of a Roman arena and that of one of our own modern edifices is here made sufficiently manifest. I do not wish to be understood that this temporary little theatre is of extraordinary dimensions; but still it is large enough to contain an ordinary audience. It struck me as being more intended for _spectacles_ than for the regular drama. It had no roof, though I was told the climate admits of representations at night in it. We see the same thing in New York during the summer months. Perhaps the dimensions of the amphitheatre of Verona are not much more than half of those of the Coliseum, (in cubic contents, I mean,) and yet it is a stupendous edifice. It is relatively low,—or, it might be safer to say, it struck me so, after dwelling five months so near the Coliseum; but, standing on its summit, it is a fearful fall to look at. It is said that the amphitheatres of Rome, Verona, and Nismes contain among them all that is wanting to give us the most accurate notions of the details of this sort of structure. Certainly, as a whole, this is the most perfect of any I have seen. There is no visible reason why this immense building should not still stand, until destroyed by some natural convulsion.