at any other strange beast that was new to them. This wasn't encouraging to hear. But though we met some truculent-looking fellows on the road, their sentiments towards us seemed to be those of wonder rather than animosity.
The sun was sinking in a haze of rose and gold as we came to the crest of the long hill on which stands the town of Girgenti, passed through it, and coasted down to the Hotel des Temples. Beyond the hotel, which stands isolated between the town and the sea, we saw suddenly the great Temple of Concord, a lonely and magnificent monument. It affects the imagination as Stonehenge does when you see it for the first time. The red rays of the sun shone aslant upon its splendid amber-coloured pillars and colossal pediments, revealing every detail of the pure Doric architecture. When the smiling Signer Gagliardi had received us and allotted rooms to the party (the best in the house for the American ladies on their automobile, and a little one for the chauffeur), I strolled in the fragrant old garden, and leaning on the balustrade by the ancient well of carved stone, looked long over this wonderful plateau above the sea, where once stood perhaps the finest assemblage of Greek temples the world has ever seen. Next morning we went down to see the temples at close quarters. I had been warned that the road would be too rough for an automobile; but a gallant Napier which had passed through the forest of the Landes and braved the dragon's teeth sown on the roads of Sicily's fastnesses was not to be dismayed by a few jolting miles. Everyone in the
