EDWARD RIGGS. 107 
crowned with another old castle, and with a large town 
clustering around its base. This is the town of Toorhal, 
one of the regular stations for changing post-horses, and 
the place for the finest melons that grow on the face of 
the earth. Here youmay pray that your journey be not 
in the early spring, for then the river rises and respects 
no bounds, flooding the whole country. Ihave been two 
hours trying to make the last mile before reaching this 
town, with water most of the time above the saddle 
girths, and then had-to swin my horse across the rapid 
stream in order to get to the island on which the town 
stood. 
This castle repeats many of the characterists of the 
others, and needs no special comment. If you go ten 
miles to the southwest you will come to a similar town, 
with a similar rock and a similar castle, only that here 
there is a greater abundance of marble slabs with Greek 
inscriptions on them. ‘These are mostly touch stones, 
and present many phases of life and views of death, some 
being heathen and some Christian. You will find them 
generally built into the walls of the castle or of some 
other building, with total disregard of position, and with 
no effort at defacement, except where the figure of the 
cross appeared. There you would see marks of determin- 
ed and spiteful mutilation, failing, however, generally 
to remove traces of the original design. Thisis the town 
of Zela, which bore the same name two thousand years 
ago, and is celebrated in history as the spot where Julius 
Cesar met and overcame the army of Pharnaces, and re- 
turned his brief and sententious report to the senate in 
the words, ‘‘I came, I saw, I conquered.”’ 
If instead of coming here we had traveled from Toorhal 
on the road southeast for another twenty-five miles, we 
should have come to the town of Tocat, where another 
old castle frowns upon us from an overhanging rock. 
Clambering up this hill we find again a repetition of 
