It is a large rectangular edifice, 92 feet long, 66 broad and 49 high. The principal façade to the south had a splendid peristyle, having massive Ionic columns in front, which corresponded with Corinthian pilasters engaged in the walls. This extended only to half the height of the wall, leaving a second storey externally, but there is no trace of this in the inside, which is undivided in height. The other sides also are decorated with detached columns, corresponding to the pilasters of the lower storey, the cornice turning round and forming the entablature. On the north side there are three detached columns on each side of the principal entrance, between which and the smaller doors is a niche to contain statuary. All the keystones are sculptured, but not very artistically. That over the principal gate bears a basso-relievo of a standard, with the inscription ‘Legio tertia Augusta.’ The interior forms a vast hall; on each side there is one large and two smaller doors, and above the central and larger ones another arched opening, used probably as a window. The walls are strengthened interiorly with pilasters, on which are engaged columns; still it appears doubtful whether the building ever was covered otherwise than by a velarium.

The interior has now been converted into a museum, wherein are collected various objects of antiquity which have been discovered in the vicinity; the best of these, however, have been sent to the museum of the Louvre at Paris.

Close to the Prætorium is a small triumphal arch tolerably entire, but of an exceedingly depraved style of art; there are two niches on each side, but without any archivoltes.

The Temple of Æsculapius, mentioned by Bruce, is at some little distance west of the Prætorium: only one of its columns now remains in place. An inscription stated that this temple was constructed by order of Marcus Aurelius, and was dedicated to Æsculapius and to Health.

At Lambessa we turned to the right, and entered the mountains south of the village. After a short ride through a forest of evergreen oak we reached the plateau on the top of Djebel Asker, nearly 6,000 feet above the level of the sea; even at this advanced season there were patches of snow, and during the winter the Pass must frequently be impracticable. At the further side of this is a remarkable gorge, like a huge barrier, in which an opening gives access to the richly wooded valley of Ti-Farasain. At the bottom flows a large stream, and under the shade of some fine old trees by its banks we halted to take our midday meal. It was indeed a lovely spot, but we found so many such that our stock of adjectives soon became exhausted. The time occupied in riding to this place from Batna was four hours, exclusive of our delay at Lambessa.

Beyond this the oak forests continue for some distance, with occasional clearings, in which are seen the foundations of Roman buildings, with here and there a few tumulary inscriptions. At Ez-Zikak the cedars commence, at an elevation of 5,300 feet, and cover an immense tract of mountain. They have remained hitherto almost untouched, and might supply an unlimited quantity of timber for use at Batna. The forest greatly requires thinning, the mature trees being too crowded; but one sees with regret here, as indeed almost everywhere in Algeria, the total absence of young trees; they appear now-a-days to be destroyed by the sheep and goats as soon as the seed germinates. It is a difficult question to decide, whether to protect the young trees by prohibiting the natives from introducing sheep and goats into the forests, or to protect the people who, in a country where there is so little space for agriculture, can hardly live without their flocks, and who have been a pastoral race from the earliest ages.

After quitting the region of forests the road passes over a rather sterile plateau; on the left is a remarkable chain of naked limestone rocks called Djebel Berd, the Cold Mountain; on the right the distant hills are thickly wooded, but the intermediate country is treeless. Pasturage however is good and there are patches of cultivation; at the end of April the corn was not more than two or three inches high. After passing this the road descends rapidly, and, winding amongst small hills and valleys, soon reaches the bed of the river on which El-Arbäa is situated.

It was almost dark when we arrived, but we had just light enough to descend the difficult path which gives access to the village. The military train mules, however, were less accustomed to mountain travelling than our native beasts, and lingered far behind. We were welcomed by the notables of the village, and conducted to a plateau a little above the bank of the stream, large enough to contain two or three tents. One or two Arab tents had been pitched for our accommodation, and carpeted in the most tempting manner; but alas! we soon found out the one great scourge of this lovely country, though its best protection against the intrusion of inquisitive tourists—the armies of fleas by which each village is defended. To sleep there was impossible; it was getting late, and still we saw nothing of our baggage, and we feared that the unfortunate tringlots who had charge of it would never find their way unaided. The Sheikh however was equal to the occasion; he despatched forty or fifty of his people with flambeaux of diss grass to search for the missing attendants, who but for this assistance, would never have reached us that night. A light repast was all we cared for, but a more substantial one, with the usual sheep roasted whole, was provided for our attendants. I recommend anyone who retains enough of his pristine innocence still to like sweets to try a dinner of walnuts dipped in honey and washed down by huge bowls of fresh milk.

It is difficult, without the aid of the pencil, to give any idea of this extraordinary village, and one hardly knows whether most to admire its strange and picturesque aspect, or the skill with which the position has been chosen and improved for purposes of defence.

A deep and narrow ravine runs north-east and south-west, through which flows a small river. On the right bank the hill rises almost perpendicularly to a height of about 700 feet. It is principally blue marl, and as is frequently the case with this formation, the sky line is deeply cut and serrated in the most fantastic manner, contrasting strangely with the level crests of the adjacent hills. The strata have been upheaved into an almost vertical position, so that in some places the face of the hill resembles parallel lines of walls, as at the Portes-de-fer; in others it is scored and perforated, exhibiting the most beautiful effects of light and shadow.