supposed to have built it. The whole chamber in primitive times was
filled with water, and the hole in the roof was used for drawing it
out. Dr. Parker gave us a little of the water in a goblet, but,
notwithstanding its sacred reputation, it tasted very much like
ordinary water, being very cool and fresh, with a slight medicinal
taste. He also pointed our attention to a rugged hollow in the wall of
the staircase, and told us that this was the print of St. Peter's head
in the hard stone, said to have been produced as he stumbled and fell
against it, coming down the stair a chained prisoner. It requires no
small amount of devotional credulity to recognise the likeness or to
believe the story.

But there is no need for having recourse to such ecclesiastical
legends in order to produce a solemn impression in this chamber. Its
classical associations are sufficient of themselves to powerfully
affect the imagination. There is no reason to doubt the common belief
that this is the identical cell in which the famous Jugurtha was
starved to death. The romantic history of this African king is
familiar to all readers of Sallust, who gives a masterly account of
the Jugurthine war. When finally defeated, after having long defied
the Roman army, his person was taken possession of by treachery and
carried in chains to Rome, where he adorned the triumphal procession
of his conqueror Marius, and was finally cast into this cell,
perishing there of cold and hunger. What a terrible ending to the
career of a fierce, free soldier, who had spent his life on horseback
in the boundless sultry deserts of Western Africa! The temperature of
the place is exceedingly damp and chill. Jugurtha himself, when
stripped of his clothes by the executioners, and let down into it from
the hole in the roof, exclaimed with grim humour, "By Hercules, how
cold your bath is!" A more hideous and heart-breaking dungeon it is
impossible to imagine. Not a ray of light can penetrate the profound
darkness of this living tomb. Sallust spoke of the appearance of it in
his day, from the filth, the gloom, and the smell, as simply terrific.
The height of the vault is about sixteen feet, its length thirty feet,
and its breadth twenty-two feet. It is cased with huge masses of
volcanic stone, arranged in courses, converging towards the roof, not
on the principle of the arch, but extending horizontally to a centre,
as we see in some of the Etruscan tombs. This peculiar style of