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tember is not the month to visit Greece, but I could not well time it differently; yet had to pay the forfeit the next day from over-exertion, in the fierce heat of that treacherous climate, and perhaps from exposure in sleeping without shelter in the open air.

It is strange that there should be so few architectural ruins at Corinth, and that absolutely the only remaining ruin of any note of that splendid city, the birth-place of the last and richest form of Greek architecture, should be a nameless temple of the simplest and oldest Doric style. It is thought to be actually the oldest temple in Greece.

The wall of the temple of Neptune, near Kalamarki, the site of the Isthmian games, as well as some clearer outline of the Stadium itself, can be still made out, but they are almost undistinguishable ruins. The Isthmus in its narrowest part is a beautiful level plain, admirably fitted for athletic and martial exercises.

The next morning we started for Nemea. The first part of the way was along an oleander-fringed stream, which runs, I believe, from the plain of Nemea to the Gulf of Corinth. These little Greek rivers are sometimes full of water and sometimes completely dry. Two Englishmen, whom I met afterwards in Athens, asked me about a river, which, forking into two streams, runs through the plain of Argos-if I had crossed such a river, or either of these streams? I had no recollection of doing so, as I had probably crossed a dry torrent bed; although I heard afterwards that one of these Englishmen had come very near being drowned in fording that same stream. The last part of the way to Nemea was over a barren and uninteresting country, with no sign of human dwelling, or hardly of any kind of life. Greece is a country, like Palestine, capable of high cultivation, but, when deserted by the hand of labor and culture, it very soon becomes a wilderness, almost a desert.

Of late years agriculture, especially that of the vine, olive-tree, and currant, has greatly revived; but yet how desoVOL. II.-21

late and waste the land still is! An indolent Greek peasant prefers to tie up a few wild straggling vines, and dig a little trench around an olive-tree which he had no hand in planting, and then to spend the rest of the day in smoking and swaggering around in a bright new jacket, rather than to "put his hand to the plough," turn the streams into his field, enrich its pulverized soil, and thus procure a crop over and above his own scanty necessities.

The three gray, tottering columns of the temple of Jupiter at Nemea rise in the midst of a solitary plain, with Mt. Apesas keeping watch over itabout as lonely and solemn a spot as one would wish to see. At the base of the columns there is a great heap of stone blocks, fragments of other pillars and portions of the edifice. It was originally a Doric temple of simple rather than elegant architecture, and its material was a coarse-grained stone. I noticed how the lower section of a column is always worn away first, just as one would naturally suppose, thus finally bringing it down.

I saw, on our route to Argos, the cave of the Nemean lion in the mountains, but, as I had Hercules himself along with me, felt no apprehension. My guide Andreas must have stood some six feet three in his stockings. He claimed, as all the older guides of Greece do, or did at that time, to have been, when a youth, in the employ of Lord Byron.

All along this narrow pass or gorge leading from Nemea into the plain of Argos, was the scene of desperate fighting between the Greeks and Turks in the war of the Revolution, the latter trying to force their way to the sea.

I spent some time exploring the remarkable ruins of Mycenæ, situated on a height overlooking the plain of Argos, and between two desolate pyramidal mountains forming the northeastern boundary of the plain,

No place in Greece interested mo more intensely, from the fact that these are undoubted remains of the heroic period, and belong imperishably to the

era of the Iliad. As Alba Longa illustrates the Eneid, and the towers of old Florence the Divina Comedia, so the gray walls of Mycena, do Homer's song. The colossal Cyclopean masonry of the Acropolis, still comprehending a large area, shows great mechanical skill, and --so scientific men say-considerable knowledge of the art of fortification.

The "Gate of Lions" is composed of three stones, the upper one, or impost, being fifteen feet long and nearly seven feet high in the middle. The sculptured lions have been justly remarked to be of extraordinary strength and vigor of execution, rude and archaic as they are. Under this gateway of fabulous antiquity rolled the chariot-wheels of the kings "of Pelops' line," and within the inclosure of these massive walls the dark storm of the passions and woes of Orestes burst. Here the signal-fires of Clytemnestra came flaming from the Saronic Gulf, and Arachne, and Argos, and swooping down on Agamemnon's roof. The scene of the opening act of the "Electra " was laid at the entrance

of this very "Gate of Lions."

But while I was exploring the ruins, and the circular subterranean chambers where these Homeric kings and heroes were doubtless buried with their treasures, and filling my mind with new convictions of the simplicity and essential historic truth upon which the Iliad rests, I was seized with the first dizzy symptoms of a fever, which compelled me to leave at once, and go down into the plain to a little village about halfway to Argos. There, for many hours, I lay unconscious of what was going on outside, but with all the griefs of Orestes within the brain; nevertheless, I was nursed very carefully and tenderly by my guide, of whom heretofore I have not spoken in the most flattering terms. We at last rode on at a snail's pace into Argos, where, procuring a vehicle which was probably a relic of the Trojan wars, we drove on to Nauplia, starting once more the echoes of ancient Tiryns with the sound of chariot-wheels. At Nauplia I was bled by Greek barber, which the physician in

Athens afterwards said probably saved me from a fatal malarious fever. The steamer touching at Nauplia at the end of three days, I went on to Athens, and lay there quite sick for some time; and although managing, contrary to orders, to ride to Eleusis, and even to Marathon, the pleasure and profit of the rest of my Greek tour were greatly diminished.

It is a six or seven hours' ride on horseback from Athens to Marathon, over a lonely region, across the barren spurs of Mt. Pentelicus. After passing through the immediate environs of Athens, we met nothing on our way but shepherds and their flocks of sheep and goats. The first view of the plain where was fought the Gettysburg of Greece, burst upon us from the brow of a mountain; broad and smooth it lay beneath, surrounded by the solemn mountains. The chain of mountains which bounds it on the north stretches out into the sea, making a curved arm, which forms the bay of Marathon. The only conspicuous object on the whole surface of the plain, is the sandy tumulus raised near the seashore by the Athenians over the bodies of their slain fellow-citizens. Having reached the foot of the mountain, we galloped fast toward the mound. From the mountains to the tumulus is nearly two miles, while the plain extends along the seacoast for about six miles. It was slightly culti vated, and I observed here and there thin crops of cotton and grain, and a few droves of cows and horses; otherwise all was as still and unfrequented as the grave. From the summit of the little conical tumulus, now somewhat worn away by the rain and more by the antiquarian mole, one can see all the features of the landscape, and how the fight went on, on that immortal day.

One can distinguish on each extremity of the plain the places of the morasses which so embarrassed the move ments of the Persian cavalry. These were at the time dry, but after a rainy autumn (and at this season the battle was fought) they are filled with water. Sir John Hobhouse thinks that the

battle was begun toward the northwest of the plain, and that the barbarians were gradually driven toward the sea, and the general rout took place in the neighborhood of the Athenian mound. With their faces turned westward, the beams of the setting sun streamed into the eyes of the Persians, blinding them, and completing their discomfiture. Thus Nature-thus God fought for Miltiades.

As I crawled about Athens, of course the one spot unfailing in attraction, and to which I returned again and again, was the area on the Acropolis. This whole oval space, lifted into the pure air of the plain of Attica, was originally levelled smooth and paved with marble; and it is amazing what an amount of the finest Pentelican and Parian marble, after the lapse of ages and its indiscriminate use for all kinds of purposes, still strews the whole area of the Acropolis. One immense block of marble I remember near the entrance of the propylæa, which formerly was part of the entablature, is as white as the driven snow, though the standing walls and the pillars of the Parthenon are tinted with golden and scarlet weather-stains. On the broken fragments lying around, morsels and stains of iron, and of olivewood, show how they were originally fastened together. The masonry of the Parthenon is of unsurpassed perfection -one stone resting upon another with so great nicety, that the line of separation is hardly noticeable, excepting where decay has widened it.

The propylæa is still in a pretty good state of preservation, and forms a noble introduction to the more elaborate and beautiful though ruined works within. On the left hand of the steps of the propylæa, as you enter, is a singular square pedestal of bevelled stone, upon which probably were two equestrian statues of the sons of Xenophon. Upon the right hand of the steps is the beautiful little temple of Victory, built by Cimon, and described by Pausanias, and not many years since discovered under a huge mass of Turkish fortification. It consists of a small square cella, surrounded by Ionic columns, and orna

mented by a delicate frieze, some of the carvings of which are visible. The Ionic temple of Minerva Polias, and the portico of Bacchus supported by Caryatides, are the best preserved group of buildings on the Acropolis; they are strikingly contrasted in their feminine Ionic gracefulness with the Doric severity of the Parthenon. That, in masculine force and condensation, is a counterpart of Demosthenes' "Oration on the Crown." It is now doubly stern in decay, unsoftened by the spirited sculpture with which Phidias adorned the grave simplicity of the temple; thus blending the abstract majesty and sense of power which there is in architecture, with the feeling and life that sculpture lends. This living spirit of Nature penetrates and vitalizes the Fhidian sculpture and architecture, as it does the Iliad and the Greek dramas. The Greek artist did not work so much by rule as he did by a certain instinctive feeling of the beautiful; and yet how simply! The Parthenon is not a great idea run to hyperbole, and expressing greatness by size, but rather by proportion, by the harmony of parts, by the pure form, by the thought which lives in it. That thought was doubtless a religious one. It was a reflection of natural ideas concerning divine things in the human mind-of the mind observant of the phenomena of Nature and life, of the solemn uniformity and harmony of Nature, its power and repose. We see the secret of the transcendent greatness of Greek art, in that it sprung from the depths of the mind, striving after some fit expression of the divine; but getting no higher than the spirit of Nature, than the enshrining of human nature, its wisdom, power, and beauty. It never gained a glimpse beyond the expressionless calm of the face of Pallas Athena. There is no divine soul in Greek art, although it was religious. Yet surely it is not possible that any less earnest idea of Art than this, any superficial conception which travesties the religious sentiment, which subserves the sensual taste, which adds to the adorning of private and public

vanity, or which is the fruit of a merely intellectual and self-conscious system of coldly scientific rules, can expect to rival the Greek art in its simplicity and beauty. In Greek literature and philosophy there are a few minds who soar above the region of Greek art, which lies after all exclusively in Nature, and who seem to grasp moral ideas. Such minds as Pindar and Pericles, Plato, and he who has been called a plank from the wreck of Paradise," the almost righteous Socrates-these show the heights of the Greek genius, and its original fiery power of thought, unaided by revelation, to attain to truth. In these days when classical education is decried, it is well for us to think what the world would be without the educating agency of the Greek mind. Perfection of language remains with the ancients. If we wish to express our thoughts with

the greatest freedom, freshness, and force, we must go to the Greek models. To be educated, it is not enough to learn the facts of the outer universe; this is but a part, though important part of education; but it is far more important to understand the inner world of mind, and to be developed from within outward. Here the subtle spirit of Plato is still our guide, until a greater than Plato become our Teacher in spiritual truth. That very truth Plato seems almost to have grasped intuitively; yet no one knows the precious boon of Christianity until he knows something of Greek literature, and Greek philosophy, by which he sees how much by wisdom the world knew not, and how far the greatest minds, the brightest intellects that were ever created, failed to come to the knowledge of God, by the way of pure thought.

ORGAN CHANT.

I.

ALONE, with God, alone, we bow before His throne
And crave of Him His pardon for sins of the past day!
Alone, with God, alone, we bow before His throne

And pray that for the love of Christ our sins be washed away.

II.

Alone, with God, alone, we bow before His throne !

For the spirit craves a shrine where to worship and to pray. Alone, with God, alone, rings the mighty anthem-tone, The vesper-chant of nations at closing of the day.

III.

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Alone, with God, alone, sounds the voice of ages flown
As the sun in march sublime keeps upon his onward way.
Alone, with Night, alone! Yet with God upon His throne,
The evening turns to morning! the Night into the Day !

IV.

Alone, with God, alone, we bow before His throne

And crave of Him His pardon for sins of the past day! Alone, with God, alone! Yet with Christ upon His throne, We feel that for the love of Him our sins are washed away.

TOO TRUE-A STORY OF TO-DAY.

CHAFTER XV.

A MIDNIGHT PERIL.

THE next morning, at breakfast, the family were disposed to rally Lissa on the devotion of the heir to the splendors of Rose Villa.

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It is no jest," she said, in the midst of their mirth; "Mr. Grizzle has proposed marriage to me. He caught me, yesterday, where I could not escape, and had courage enough to declare himself." “What did you say?"

It was Milla who asked the question; her parents remained silent. Lissa looked into her sister's eager face. "I have not decided yet; but I think I shall accept him."

"Oh, dear Lissa, I am so glad. Do you think you will really like him?he's so good-tempered, and you can have all you wish."

"Well, yes," said Elizabeth, calmly; "Sam is good-tempered, and Rose Villa is a gorgeous sort of place. As you say, I need not live a life of self-denial. I infer, unless I flatter myself, that Mrs. Grizzle is very fond of me. I should have a good home."

Milla left her chair to kiss her sister's cheek, which flushed deep-red under her touch.

"I am so glad!" said the younger sister again, and the other felt as if a fine knife had stabbed her.

which she could but feel, lifted,-how perfectly happy she should then be! She returned to her chair, all smiles and excitement, while Lissa's face grew cold and fixed in its expression.

"I wish my parents to advise me," she said, presently. "I have promised an answer Monday. Of course, I should not accept him without their consent and approbation."

"But you must act as your own heart dictates."

Again that strange smile came at her father's remark. There was more satire in it than the poor child was aware of.

"If you have no serious objections to him or his family, I shall think favorably of it."

They had serious objections. Were not ignorance, incompatibility of tastes, serious objections? But it was true that their dear daughter was no longer happy at home, and if she decided in favor of Rose Villa, ought they to dissuade her? Such thoughts were in the minds of both, when Lissa continued

"Don't let it spoil the breakfast. Father, your tea is getting cold. I want no one's decision to-day. Let the matter rest."

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"You are upsetting my cup," she about to say; but, ever careful of the said, with a little mocking laugh. child's feelings, she checked herself, answering instead,

"I

I beg your pardon, sister, but I was so surprised. You will be so near us, and every thing will look so much brighter."

Milla's face glowed with pleasure. It was, indeed, only what she always had believed, that Lissa would soon have other suitors, and would love again, and be happy. It was only herself whose life, whose reason, were wrapped up in the devotion to one man! Then, too, to have all that shadow of remorse

"You are too young to wear many of them, my dear. You might wear the ear-drops, they are small,-and something to fasten your sash."

Oh, mamma, but I want them all, at least, to take my choice out of them. It is an occasion of very great importance to me, my first evening out as a young lady."

"You shall be dressed prettily, Milla; but I doubt if Mr. Dassel would ap

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