By day Timgad is only an interesting skeleton, but its bones become reclothed with flesh under the magic of the moon. Along the Decumanus marble columns rise again in stately rows; the flagstones of the Cardo resound once more to the clatter of hoofs and the rumble of chariot-wheels; the Forum becomes peopled with the white-clad forms of merchants and orators and statesmen; fires glow on the altars of Jupiter Capitolinus; from atrium and loggia float the sound of music and women’s laughter; along the narrow byways flit barbarians from the outer desert in paint and feathers; through the central opening of the great arch, dimly outlined against the stars, tramps in measured cadence a column of ghostly soldiery in the bronze helmets and leathern jerkins of the Thirtieth Legion ... Thamugas lives once more! * * * * * There is nothing very remarkable about the first part of the journey from Batna to Constantine, though the white road which smoked with dust beneath the tires of our Cadillac was, I recalled, the same highway which, twenty centuries before, the Roman legions trod. About half-way to Constantine, however, near two salt lakes which were alive with flamingos and other wild fowl, the road passes within sight of a large and curious sepulchral monument called the Medrassen, which resembles the so-called Tomb of the Christian Woman at Kolea, near Algiers, though it is somewhat smaller and considerably older. The Medrassen, which is sixty feet high, consists of a truncated cone encircled by sixty Doric columns, the whole standing on a cylindrical base 196 feet in diameter. Though its age, origin, and purpose were long matters for dispute among archæologists, recent investigations have confirmed the theory that it was the burial-place of one of the Numidian kings, perhaps of Masinissa, in which case it must have been erected about a century and a half before the Crucifixion.