Unfortunately we could only get four hours’ leave of absence.  As several gentlemen among the passengers wished to devote these few hours to seeing all the lions of this once rich and famous town, I joined their party and went ashore with them.  Scarcely had we landed before we were surrounded by a number of servants and a mob of curious people, so that we were almost obliged to make our way forcibly through the crowd.  The gentlemen hired a guide, and desired to be at once conducted to a restaurateur, who promised to prepare them a modest luncheon within half an hour.  The prospect of a good meal seemed of more importance in the eyes of my fellow-passengers than any thing else.  They resolved to have luncheon first, and afterwards to take a little walk through the city.

On hearing this I immediately made a bargain with a cicerone to shew me what he could in four hours, and went with him, leaving the company seated at table.  Though I got nothing to eat to-day but a piece of bread and a few figs, which I despatched on the road, I saw some sights which I would not have missed for the most sumptuous entertainment.

Of the once spacious town nothing remains but a very small portion, inhabited by 10,000 persons at most.  The dirty streets were every where crowded with people, as though they dwelt out of doors, while the houses stood empty.

Accompanied by my guide, I passed hastily through the new town, and over three or four wooden bridges to Neapolis, the part of ancient Syracuse in which monuments of the past are seen in the best state of preservation.  First we came to the theatre.  This building is tolerably well preserved, and several of the stone seats are still seen rising in terrace form one above the other.  From this place we betook ourselves into the amphitheatre, which is finer by far, and where we find passages leading to the wild beasts’ dens, and above them rows of seats for spectators; all is in such good condition that it might, at a trifling expense, be so far repaired as to be made again available for its original purpose.  Now we proceeded to the “Ear of Dionysius,” with which I was particularly struck.  It consists of a number of chambers, partly hewn out of the rock by art, partly formed by nature, and all opening into an immensely lofty hall, which becomes narrower and narrower towards the top, until it at length terminates in an aperture so minute as to be invisible from below.  To this aperture Dionysius is said to have applied his ear, in order to overhear what the captives spoke.  (This place is stated to have been used as a prison for slaves and malefactors.) It is usual to fire a pistol here, that the stranger may hear the reverberating echoes.  A lofty opening, resembling a great gate, forms the entrance to these rocky passages.  Overgrown with ivy, it has rather the appearance of a bower than of a place of terror and anguish.  Several of these side halls are now used as workshops by rope-makers, while in others the manufacture of saltpetre is carried on.  The region around is rocky, but without displaying any high mountains.  I saw numerous grottoes, some of them with magnificent entrances, which looked as though they had been cut in the rocks by art.  In one of these grottoes water fell from above, forming a very pretty cataract.