At the distance of about sixty feet north from the side of the road, on a raised bank surrounded by olive trees, stands this fragment of masonry. Approaching it, to have a close inspection, we find it to be a building of stones squared, and laid in regular courses. Fronting us is a façade, measuring twenty-seven feet across, and twelve feet high; but as the top is broken and ragged, the original height must have been greater. The thickness of the façade is five feet six inches—so thick as to admit of three alcoves or recesses in a row, each recess arched, and about two feet in depth backwards. The wall above the arches shews a handsome string-course, with a lozenge-shaped figure over the two side arches. Over the central arch, there is a square recess in the wall, which had evidently at one time been occupied by a slab, probably bearing an inscription. Behind the mass forming this frontage, there had been an open quadrangle, enclosed by a wall two feet thick. Of this wall the west side only remains, but we trace where the other sides had been. The depth of the quadrangle over the wall had been twenty-eight feet six inches, by twenty-seven feet—very nearly a square. These walls, as is observed by significant traces, had not been above seven or eight feet high. Having examined the structure at all points, we can have little difficulty in assigning its origin to the Romans; but at what period it was erected, or what were its uses, are questions less easily solved. There it stands, without date or mark to tell its mysterious tale; and from no ancient writer do we learn aught concerning it. To strengthen the opinion that the ruin is of Roman origin, it is known with all but absolute certainty that on the flat ground hereabouts was the military station of Lumon or Lumone, indicated by Antoninus as being on the Roman way from Ventimiglia to Turbia. Of this station there is now no visible trace, such as the mounds of an encampment, but this may be accounted for by the universal trenching caused by the culture of the olive trees. ‘Well,’ inquired my companion, ‘now that you have had a good look of the ruin, and taken its measurements, what is your opinion about it? I have made up my mind, but I will be quite fair, and let you speak first.’ This was putting me on my mettle. I took a little time to think. ‘My first notion,’ I said, ‘on seeing the building was, that it was the relic of some habitable structure; then the idea of baths crossed my mind; but on looking closely at the façade, I am fully of opinion that the building has been of a commemorative character; and I will shew you why. That empty square space over the middle arch had, no doubt, been originally filled with a slab bearing an inscription; and it is quite as likely that in each alcove there had stood a figure in marble; in the central one, possibly, a bust, and an appropriate heathen deity on each side.’