We march on an average about ten miles daily. To-day we came from Hadrumetum past Horrea to Grasse, about forty-four Roman miles from Carthage,--a magnificent place for a camp. Our astonishment increases day by day, the more we learn of the riches of this African province. In truth, it may well be beyond human power to maintain one's native vigor beneath this sky, in this region. And Grasse! Here is a country villa--to speak more accurately, a proud pillared palace of the Vandal King--gleaming with marble, surrounded by pleasure-gardens, whose like I have never seen in Europe or Asia. About it bubble delicious springs brought through pipes from a distance, or up through the sand by some magical discoverer of water. And what a multitude of trees! and not one among them whose boughs are not fairly bending under the burden of delicious fruit. Our whole army is encamped in this fruit grove, beneath these trees; every soldier has eaten his fill and stuffed his leather pouch, for we shall march on early to-morrow morning; yet one can scarcely see a difference in the quantity. Everywhere, too, are vines loaded with bunches of grapes. Many, many centuries before a Scipio entered this country, industrious Ph[oe]nicians cultivated vines here, between the sea and the desert, training them on rows of stakes a few feet high. Here grows the best wine in all Africa; they say the Vandals drink it unmixed, from their helmets. I only sipped the almost purple liquor, to which Agnellus added half the quantity of water, yet I feel drowsy. I can write no more. Good-night, Cethegus, far away in Rome! Good-night, fellow-soldier! Just half a cup more; it tastes so good. Pleasant dreams! Wine makes us good-natured, so pleasant dreams to you, too. Barbarians! It is so comfortable here. The room assigned to me (the slaves, all Romans and Catholics, have not fled, and they serve us with the utmost zeal) is beautifully decorated with wall paintings. The bed is so soft and easy! A cool breeze from the sea is blowing through the open window. I will venture to take a quarter of a cup more; and to-night, dear Barbarians, if possible, no attack. May you sleep well. Vandals, so that I, too, can sleep sweetly! I almost believe the African sickness--dread of every exertion--has already seized upon me. * * * * * Four days' march from the wonder-land of Grasse. We are spending the night in the open country. To-morrow we shall reach Decimum, less than nine Roman miles from Carthage, and not one Vandal have we seen yet.