ow hawkweeds, a few camomiles, grew in
hollows here and there; but of grass not a blade. It is easy to make a
model of these Crotonian hills. Shape a solid mound of hard-pressed
sand, and then, from the height of a foot or two, let water trickle
down upon it; the perpendicular ridges and furrows thus formed upon the
miniature hill represent exactly what I saw here on a larger scale.
Moreover, all the face of the ground is minutely cracked and wrinkled;
a square foot includes an incalculable multitude of such meshes.
Evidently this is the work of hot sun on moisture; but when was it
done? For they tell me that it rains very little at Cotrone, and only a
deluge could moisten this iron soil. Here and there I came upon yet
more striking evidence of waterpower; great holes on the hillside,
generally funnel-shaped, and often deep enough to be dangerous to the
careless walker. The hills are round-topped, and parted one from
another by gully or ravine, shaped, one cannot but think, by furious
torrents. A desolate landscape, and scarcely bettered when one turned
to look over the level which spreads north of the town; one discovers
patches of foliage, indeed, the dark perennial verdure of the south;
but no kindly herb clothes the soil. In springtime, it seems, there is
a growth of grass, very brief, but luxuriant. That can only be on the
lower ground; these furrowed heights declare a perpetual sterility.

What has become of the ruins of Croton? This squalid little town of
to-day has nothing left from antiquity. Yet a city bounded with a wall
of twelve miles circumference is not easily swept from the face of the
earth. Bishop Lucifer, wanting stones for his palace, had to go as far
as the Cape Colonna; then, as now, no block of Croton remained. Nearly
two hundred years before Christ the place was forsaken. Rome colonized
it anew, and it recovered an obscure life as a place of embarkation for
Greece, its houses occupying only the rock of the ancient citadel. Were
there at that date any remnants of the great Greek city?--still great
only two centuries before. Did all go to the building of Roman
dwellings and temples and walls, which since have crumbled or been
buried?

We are told that the river AEsarus flowed through the heart of the city
at its prime. I looked over the plain, and yonder, towards the distant
railway station, I descried a green track, the course of the all but
stagnant and wholly pestilential stream, still called E