THE GREAT MIRROR 



83 



though it could never have its equal elsewhere. But it 

 is the old story. Drifting along this strange coast, on 

 this wonderful sea, each day reveals some new beauty 

 more lovely than the last." 



Opalescence, when it gets into the air, seems 

 to fight all shadows and turn everything into 

 some tint or hue. 



"July 7. In the Gulf of Corinth. The day just 

 breaking. The sea is like glass. Thin clouds lying 

 along the eastern horizon like a barrier. Above them 

 great loopholes of blood-red sky, high up toward the 

 zenith a shading of rose, and in the west a dark purple, 

 star-lit veiling. The sea responds sluggishly to the 

 splendor from above but warms in coloring as the white 

 light of the moon and stars goes out before the coming 

 day. 



" Noon. The sea is a little ruffled, showing about the 

 steamer's sides a wonderful blue — almost as intense 

 as that at Corfu or Capri. Far out it makes a dark 

 cobalt mass, and along the rocky shores it glows green, 

 a Nile green. A haze is in the air through which the 

 hills show rosy and pink. Far back from the North 

 coast looms Mount Parnassus — a vision of heliotrope 

 lost in a lilac haze. It is wonderful just now, not be- 

 cause of its classical associations, but as a mere rock re- 

 flecting the most lovely light and color in the world. 

 The old masters, Leonardo, Giorgione, Rembrandt, all 

 their lives pursued the mystery of shadow; and even 

 Whistler the modern (who does not, however, belong in 

 the same class) made some noise in the world with 

 'nocturnes' and twilight shadows along the Thames; 

 but here over Mount Parnassus is the mystery of light, 



The sen in 

 the early 

 vun-ning. 



The opales- 

 cent air. 



The helio- 

 trope of 

 Mount 

 Parnassus. 



