uins, than the populous and wealthy streets of Nismes would be.
The inn where we dined and slept preserved the same character most
rigidly; indeed, Madame, whose ideas seemed perfectly in unison with
those of mine hostess of La Luc, wished apparently that our feast at
Forum Julii should be entirely intellectual, and that we should rise
from dinner with unclouded heads, to enjoy a walk among its antiquities.
We were really diverted by the formal parsimony with which the good
woman had contrived to invent a dinner for four, out of what would have
hardly have sufficed as a whet to an English farmer. Were I blest with
the culinary accuracy of the facetious Christopher North, or his friend
Dr. Morris, I could better record a bill of fare which would form a
complete contrast to the vaunted luxuries of their inspiring deity, Mr.
Oman of Edinburgh. Suffice it, as a specimen, that three pettitoes of
an unfortunate roasting-pig, or rather pigling, which I fear must have
died a natural death, formed the most substantial part of our repast.

The amphitheatre of Frejus, to pass to a more dignified subject, is
situated without the walls of the town, on the side by which we had
entered from Toulon; and is sufficiently perfect to be interesting,
though it must suffer by a comparison with the better known, and finer
specimens of the same sort which exist. There is also a temple, and an
arch, the latter known by the name of the Porte Doree, neither of which
possesses any thing remarkable when compared with the ruins of Nismes
and Orange. The aqueduct built by Vespasian, and situated to the
north-east of the town, is on a more extensive scale, and taken with its
concomitants, better merits the attention of a painter: even when viewed
from under the walls of Frejus, which it adjoins at one end, it
possesses as sombre a character of repose as Poussin could have wished,
and which is unbroken by the intervention of mean houses, and busy
figures. Its scattered groupes recede from the eye up a solitary valley,
interspersed with clumps of olive trees, and backed by pine forests, and
the foreground derives a degree of wildness from the profusion of
Spanish broom of an unusual size and beauty, with which its scattered
blocks are fringed. We walked also to the small village of St. Raphael,
a mile or two from the town, which is the modern port of Frejus, and
stands in what was formerly the main sea; while the Pharos which marked
the entrance of the a