le as the appearance of Aden must be deemed at
the present moment, its commanding situation rendered it of great
importance in former times. During the reign of Constantine, it was an
opulent city, forming one of the great emporia for the commerce of
the East. The sole remains of the grandeur it once boasted consists of
about ninety dilapidated stone houses, the greater number of dwellings
which seem to shelter its scanty population being nothing more than
huts rudely constructed of reeds. These wretched tenements, huddled
together without the slightest attempt at regularity, occupy the
crater of an extinct volcano. Unrelieved by trees, and assimilating
in colour with the arid soil and barren hills rising around, they
scarcely convey an idea of the purpose for which they are designed.

A stranger, entering Aden, finds it difficult to believe that he is in
the midst of an inhabited place, the houses appearing to be fewer in
number, and more insignificant, than a closer inspection proves them
to be. No splendid fragment, imposing in its ruin, records the glory
and opulence of the populous city, as it existed in the days of
Solyman the Magnificent, the era from whence it dates its decline. The
possession of Aden was eagerly contended for by the two great powers,
the Turks and the Portuguese, struggling for mastery in the East, and
when they were no longer able to maintain their rivalry, it reverted
into the hands of its ancient masters, the Arabs. The security
afforded by its natural defences, aided by the fortifications, the
work of former times, rendered it a suitable retreat for the piratical
hordes of the desert. The lawless sons of Ishmael could, from this
stronghold, rush out upon the adjacent waters, and make themselves
masters of the wealth of those adventurers who dared to encounter the
dangers of the Red Sea.

With the loss of every thing approaching to good government, Aden lost
its trade. The system of monopoly, which enriches the sovereign at the
expense of the subject, speedily ends in ruin. The superior classes of
the inhabitants were either driven away, in consequence of the tyranny
which they endured, or, reduced to a state of destitution, perished
miserably upon the soil, until at length the traces of former
magnificence became few and faint, the once flourishing city falling
into one wide waste of desolation. The remains of a splendid aqueduct,
which was at the first survey mistaken for a Roman road; a