Emerging from the fortification, we began to ascend the hill: the face of it was cut into by level spaces, the earth banked up by stone walls, lining which, infantry could level their pieces up the hill. The whole ground is mined and traversed by passages, the roofs of which project above the soil with loop-holes. The vidette on the hill pointed out to us on a brow opposite, at a short distance--but divided by a chasm--the Moorish post, a low shed of reeds: we saw no one. Some fig-trees in the gulley between, we were forbidden to pass; and he warned us to keep always in his sight. I came suddenly on a mass of ruins clustering round eminences, or running in long straight lines, castellated and turreted: the angles were fresh and sharp. The holes left in the walls by the fastenings of the planks, into which the compost is beaten, gave them the appearance of enormous pigeon-houses. There were no Roman blocks; yet the style was Roman. There was none of the massiveness of the Moorish, but their materials. There was more of the palm-like lightness of Fars than of the troglodyte of ancient or modern Africa. I hoped that these might belong to some remnants of the earlier and untraced races; but a nearer inspection soon decided that question. A gate on the western face is still almost perfect, and is Moorish; yet who can find the date of that style which may have belonged to the days of Juba, as well as to those of Almanzor and Abderahman. My companion was excessively alarmed when I proposed to visit the ruins, as they are beyond the neutral ground. I endeavoured to relieve him, by making a forward cast through the brushwood. He followed, detailing how those savages would lie for hours in wait for a shot, and how a few days before a man had been wounded at the same place. Presently he exclaimed, “A Moor! a Moor!” I had, however, for some time seen the figure in a clear space on the opposite brow, wrapped in its haik, and motionless.