Such was the condition in which this Carthaginian general, who a few days before had been so proud and haughty, retired from Syracuse. Bitterly bewailing his own fate, and still more that of his country, he, with the most insolent fury, accused the gods as the sole authors of his misfortunes. “The enemy,” continued he, “may indeed rejoice at our misery, but have no reason to glory in it. We return victorious over the Syracusans, and are defeated by the plague alone.” His greatest subject of grief, and that which most keenly distressed him, was his having survived so many gallant soldiers, who had died in arms. “But,” added he, “the sequel shall make it appear, whether it is through fear of death, or from the desire of leading back to their native country the miserable remains of my fellow-citizens, that I have survived the loss of so many brave comrades.” And in fact, on his arrival at Carthage, which he found overwhelmed with grief and despair, he entered his house, shut his doors against the citizens, and even his own children; and then gave himself the fatal stroke, in compliance with a practice to which the heathens falsely gave the name of courage, though it was, in reality, no other than a cowardly despair. But the calamities of this unhappy city did not stop here; for the Africans, who had ever borne an implacable hatred to the Carthaginians, but were now exasperated to fury, because their countrymen had been left behind, and exposed to the murdering sword of the Syracusans, assemble in the most frantic manner, sound the alarm, take up arms, and, after seizing upon Tunis, march directly to Carthage, to the number of more than two hundred thousand men. The citizens now gave themselves up for lost. This new incident was considered by them as the sad effect of the wrath of the gods, which pursued the guilty wretches even to Carthage. As its inhabitants, especially in all public calamities, carried their superstition to the greatest excess, their first care was to appease the offended gods. Ceres and Proserpine were deities who, till that time, had never been heard of in Africa. But now, to atone for the outrage which had been done them in the plundering of their temples, magnificent statues were erected to their honour; priests were selected from among the most distinguished families of the city; sacrifices and victims, according to the Greek ritual, (if I may use that expression,) were offered up to them; in a word, nothing was omitted which could be thought conducive in any manner to appease and propitiate the angry goddesses. After this, the defence of the city was the next object of their care. Happily for the Carthaginians, this numerous army had no leader, but was like a body uninformed with a soul; no provisions nor military engines; no discipline nor subordination, was seen among them: every man setting himself up for a general, or claiming an independence on the rest. Divisions therefore