the fear of thieves, which has interposed this veil between these frightful interiors and the indiscreet glances of the passers by, but simply the necessity of a protection against the north wind. The hideous lanes, bordered by these dirty huts, are not paved; the least shower hollows out the ground and forms stinking puddles, which resemble reservoirs, destined to collect the liquid mud which the rain drives before it."
"All this is, certainly, not very beautiful," I exclaimed. "But are there not fine fountains and broad canals to wash away this filth?"
"Yes, you would find, at the foot of the northern hills, magnificent basins; the water which reposes in these natural shells, resembles vigour hanging in the air. The azure sheets of it which flow down from the surface are divided into two branches: one spreads through the city, and the other flows out behind the ramparts. The first disappears quickly in the mud of the street; the second flees joyously away, bounding beyond the walls, happy not to be soiled by contact with the fetid waters that stagnate before the houses. These are the only springs which the city contains. In nearly all the streets there are wells, and many houses have cisterns to receive the rain water.
"As to the veins of the city (the internal canals), they surround its walls and traverse it in all direc-
