pieces. The city ever allures us on. Its towers and domes glisten in the dying light, half hidden among abundant foliage Damascus never looked lovelier.
AQUEDUCT OF QUERETARO.
Though I never saw that earthly Eden, I fancied I saw it in this sunset view. The hollow of the hills looks small from this, height, and the city seems embossed on the bottom of a bowl of radiant green. It looks large and majestic from this hill-top. It is perfectly in the grasp of the eye. A farther descent brings the aqueduct to view, the stateliest Roman that is extant in America, and there is no grander in Italy, nor one so grand. It strides across the hollow, forty feet high, with massive pillars and broad arches. We rush beneath it, fly round and round dirty, mud-faced streets, into the thick of the town, and halt suddenly at the Hotel of the Diligence. The day's ride of over one hundred miles is done, and gladly the couch is sought and found.
