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LIFE AND TIMES OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 417

men . The old amphitheater, a miniature Coliseum, where men fought with
wild beasts amid the applauding shouts of ladies and gentlemen of the
period, though used no longer for its old time purposes, is in good condition
and may yet stand for a thousand years. We were shown through its various
apartments where the lions were kept and the dens out of which they came
to the arena, where, lashed to fury, they waged their bloody contests with
men. A sight of this old theater of horrors, once strangely enough the place
of amusement to thousands, makes one thankful that his lot is cast in our
humane and enlightened age. There is however, enough of the wild beast left
in our modern human life to modify the pride of our enlightenment and
humanity and to remind us ofour kinship with the people who once delighted
in the brutality and cruelty practiced in this amphitheater. In this respect our
newspapers tell us a sad story. They would not be filled with the details of
prize fights and discussions of the brutal perfections of prize fighters if such
things did not please the brutal proclivities of a large class of readers.

Another interesting object in Aries, is a long line of granite coffins, bur-
ied here for ages and discovered at last by excavations for a Railroad just
outside of the town. These houses of the dead are well preserved but the dust
and ashes, once their tenants, are lost and scattered to the winds.

An hour or two after leaving this quaint and sinuous old town, we were
confronted at Marseilles. by the blue and tideless waters of the Mediterranean,
a sea charming in itself and made more charming by the poetry and elo-
quence it has inspired Its deep blue waters sparkling under a summer sun
and a half tropical sky, fanned by balmy breezes from Africa golden sand,
was in fine contrast with the snow covered mountains and plains we had just
left hehind us. Only a few hours before reaching Marseilles we were in mid-
winter, but now all at once we were greeted with the lemon and the orange,
the olive and the oleander, all flourishing under the open sky. The transition
was so sudden, and so agreeable and so completely in contrast, that it seemed
more like magic than like reality. Not only was the climate different, but the
people and everything else seemed different. There was a visible blending of
the orient with the occident. The sails of the ships, the rigging of the smaller
vessels, the jib-like main sails, and the general appearance of all, resembled
the marine pictures of the East and made the whole scene novel, picturesque
and attractive. A general view of that far-famed city made plainly visible in
Marseilles the results of large wealth and active commerce, as expressed in
the far-reaching streets, large warehouses, and fine residences. We however
cared less for all this than for Chateau d'If, the old prison anchored in the sea
and around which the genius of Alexander Dumas has woven such a network