The great Amphitheatre of Dionysus was in the Bruchium, the splendid
palatial quarter of the city, close to the large harbor between the Choma
and the peninsula of Lochias. Hard by the spacious and lofty rotunda, in
which ten thousand spectators could be seated, stood the most fashionable
gymnasia and riding-schools. These buildings, which had been founded
long since by the Ptolemiac kings, and had been repeatedly extended and
beautified, formed, with the adjoining schools for gladiators and beast-
fighters, and the stables for wild beasts from every part of the world, a
little town by themselves.

At this moment the amphitheatre looked like a beehive, of which every
cell seems to be full, but in which a whole swarm expects yet to find
room. The upper places, mere standing-room for the common people, and
the cheaper seats, had been full early in the day. By the afternoon the
better class of citizens had come in, if their places were not reserved;
and now, at sunset, those who were arriving in litters and chariots, just
before the beginning of the show, were for the most part in Caesar's
train, court officials, senators, or the rich magnates of the city.

The strains of music were by this time mingling with the shouting and
loud talk of the spectators, or of the thousands who were crowding round
the building without hoping to obtain admission. But even for them there
was plenty to be seen. How delightful to watch the well-dressed women,
and the men of rank and wealth, crowned with wreaths, as they dismounted;
to see the learned men and artists arrive--more or less eagerly
applauded, according to the esteem in which they were held by the
populace! The most splendid sight of all was the procession of priests,
with Timotheus, the high-priest of Serapis, at their head, and by his
side the priest of Alexander, both marching with dignity under a canopy.
They were followed by the animals to be slaughtered for sacrifice, and