One passes down the ancient stairs, lately uncovered, which lead into the Sacred Enclosure, and finds the long, deep-sunk Parallel Passage wrapt in sepulchral darkness, and realises the force of the dark lore of ancient priestcraft and of prayers muttered at midnight. It is pleasant to regain the interior of the temple, where broad streams of moonlight flood its surface. Seated on the east wall of No. 10 Enclosure, and immediately facing the conical tower, one has a good view all round the temple. Under the dark shades of walls and trees a hundred spectres might be lurking unseen. Amidst such surroundings a score of ancient scenes are pictured in one’s mind—the approaching priests with processional chant emerging through the north entrance from the Sacred Enclosure, the salutation to the emblems of the gods, the light of altar fire and torch reflected upon the walls and upon the sacred golden fillets bound round the brows of the priest, the incense-laden air, the subdued murmurings of the waiting crowd of worshippers, the invocations of the deity by priests who stand upon the high raised platform in front of the conical tower, the mystic rites, dark enchantments, and the pious orgies. The very air feels as if it were teeming with mystery and midnight loneliness. Here appear to rise “_the thin throng of ghosts ... with beckoning hands and noiseless feet flitting from shade to shade_.” The rising wind now wafts into the ancient shrine the confused shouting, singing, tom-tom beating, and general clamour of the natives dancing in the villages on the hills around. The air has become decidedly cooler. One is glad to have visited the temple at this hour. It is one of the experiences of a lifetime. • • • • • _The Acropolis at sunset._—In the soft sunlight of a glorious late afternoon, when calm broods over all and a profound solitude invests the immense panorama of valley, mountain, and sea of jagged kopje ranges as beheld from the summit of the Acropolis Hill some 300 ft. at least above the Zimbabwe Valley, one views a scene of indescribable loveliness. The sharp-cut ranges of hills, deep gorges flanked by cliffs, great crags of rock, and the long and broad Moshagashi Valley with its scattered kraals and patches of native plantations are all as silent as sleep.