An Amphitheatre and two Theatres are still visible at Ptolemeta: the latter are close to the remains of a palace, of which three columns only are now standing; and the former is constructed in a large quarry, in which the seats have been partly excavated, those parts only having been built which could not be formed in the quarry itself. The interior court of the palace above-mentioned is still covered with tessellated pavement, and beneath it are very spacious arched cisterns, or reservoirs, communicating with each other, and receiving air and light from the court-yard above them[15]. The remaining columns of this building, which we imagine to have been a palace, are those which Bruce has described as forming part of the portico belonging to an Ionic temple, and as having been executed “in the first manner” of that order. The details of them, (he adds,) with all the parts that could be preserved, are in the King’s collection. The proportions and style of the columns in question do not (we must confess) appear, in our estimation, to partake much of the early character of the Ionic; but were the resemblance in reality much greater than it is, the existence of a Greek inscription which is built into the basement of the columns, bearing the names of Cleopatra and Ptolemy Philometor[16], (together with another, turned upside down, mentioning that of Arsinoe conjointly with Ptolemy and Berenice,) would prevent our attributing an earlier date to them than the reigns of the sovereigns recorded. The ravines which form the eastern and western boundaries of Ptolemeta (particularly that to the eastward) are wild and romantic in the extreme; and one might imagine one’s-self transported, in winding along them, to the beautiful secluded valleys of Switzerland and Savoy. It is true that in the Cyrenaica nature is on a less extended scale than in the mountainous districts we have mentioned; but it appears in a form no less captivating on that account; and we will venture to say, that if a person who had travelled in those countries should be suddenly dropt into the eastern valley of Ptolemeta, without being told where he was, he would certainly suspect himself to be in one of them. He would never, for a moment, dream of being in Africa—that parched and barren region of desert monotony so horrid in European estimation. For our own parts we shall never forget the delight which we experienced, at every new turn of the valley, as fresh objects of interest presented themselves to our view on either side of this enchanting retreat. We had already passed through a very interesting country, in our journey from Bengazi to Ptolemeta; and we had long forgotten the dreary swamps and insipidity of the Syrtis, where only _one tree_ had been seen to rear itself in a space of more than four hundred miles.