It is rather less than a dozen miles from Tunis to Carthage, and during nearly the whole distance the road runs within sight of the great Roman aqueduct, whose rose-brown arches stride in an undeviating line across the plain. This titanic work was constructed by the Emperor Hadrian at a time when the country was threatened by a devastating drought in order to bring water to Carthage from Zaghouan, eighty miles away. Some idea of the immensity of the undertaking may be gained from the fact that it delivered six million gallons a day, part of the way by means of underground canals, and over the intervening valleys by thousands of magnificent arches, hundreds of which are still standing. The aqueduct was destroyed by the Vandals, who appear always to have justified the modern significance of their name; was restored by the Byzantines; was again destroyed by the Spaniards; and in 1859 was rebuilt by the reigning bey in order to supply Tunis, as well as Carthage and the other suburbs, with pure water. Though iron pipes were used to replace the arches which had been demolished, the Roman route was followed, and wherever possible the European builders utilized the ancient masonry channels constructed by Hadrian’s engineers. They built well, the Romans. I wonder if two thousand years hence the Croton Aqueduct will be utilized in some form to supply water to New York. Of all the famous sites of antiquity, save only Troy (and I speak as one who has seen all, or nearly all, of them), Carthage is at first view the most disappointing. It is not difficult to identify the principal features at Nineveh and of Babylon, both of which probably antedated the Phenician city by many centuries; but of Carthage literally nothing remains above the level of the ground, its obliteration having been so methodically carried out, first by Scipio and then by Hassan, that it is only within very recent years that the archæologists have succeeded in obtaining even a general idea of the ground-plan. Particularly disappointing is the Byrsa, the six-hundred-foot hill on which stood the citadel and the great temple of Eschmoun. Instead of being an abrupt, clearly defined eminence, like those on which the Italian hill-towns stand, it gives the impression, when approached from the land side, of being not much more than a low ridge topped by a rather insignificant knoll, so gradual is the ascent from the plain. Its seaward face, however, falls away quite abruptly.