'THE GLORY THAT WAS GREECE" 



627 



seen the mountains of Argolis. On the 

 right was the coast to which we have re- 

 ferred in the excursion to Corinth. 



On arriving at the mouth of the canal 

 we were able to enter almost immedi- 

 ately, and the four miles were traversed 

 in about twenty minutes. 



Once in the Corinthian Gulf, the little 

 vessel plunged ahead, having on one side 

 the fertile Achaean coast, beyond which 

 lay a range of graduated heights, and on 

 the right, and in full view throughout the 

 day, the unbroken mountain range, with 

 the thrilling summits of Helicon, Parnas- 

 sus, and Kirphis outtopping all. 



The day went as such days go, every 

 few minutes being marked by some new 

 beauty or some object of interest. The 

 sun was sinking beyond the hills when our 

 craft turned its head into the bay of Itea 

 and the lights began to twinkle on the 

 rocks over the little town. 



A MODERN GREEK DANCE 



We landed in a small boat and repaired 

 to one of the numerous coffee shops which 

 front the shore. In a few minutes we 

 were surrounded by a curious but friendly 

 crowd, among them quite a number who 

 had been in America or who had friends 

 there. With their help we were soon able 

 to complete our bargain for a carriage, 

 and, throwing in our baggage, we started 

 for the home of the Oracle. 



We rode on in the gathering gloom 

 through a succession of olive gardens and 

 vineyards which cover the entire plain. 

 At the end of an hour the road began to 

 ascend sharply, and here it was buggested 

 that we might take a short cut up the hill- 

 side and arrive in advance of the carriage. 



With a Greek boy — Aristides Epiglot- 

 tis — as guide we started off. It was now 

 black night. Friendly lights winked at us 

 through the trees ; there was a heavy 

 earthy smell in the air ; from a distant 

 sheep fold a gentle bleating could be 

 heard ; occasionally a sheep-dog barked 

 and was answered by colleagues on neigh- 

 boring hillsides. 



As we approached the crest of one of the 

 foothills, there came from a building near 

 by a curious throbbing noise mixed with 

 a rapid movement of feet. My curiosity 

 was so strong that I drew near and looked 

 through the window and saw, in what 



would be called in olden times the inn 

 parlor, perhaps twenty men, by their dress 

 all peasants, dancing to a singular meas- 

 ure. Hands clasped in a long line, the 

 leader, with a handkerchief in his free 

 hand, making what seemed to be several 

 steps forward and two back. Occasion- 

 ally he uttered a sharp cry, which might 

 have been a dancing direction. At a given 

 signal he gave place to the man immedi- 

 ately following him, and the monotonous 

 movement went on again. 



The music was provided by a sort of 

 drum and flute, augmented by a low 

 handclapping from a few elderly folk 

 seated outside the circle of the dancers. 

 This had been going on, I was told, for 

 hours and would continue into the night. 

 The gravity with which it was conducted 

 was striking. 



Leaving the dancers and keeping along 

 the dusty road, we soon arrived at the 

 Hotel of Pythian Apollo, which afforded 

 an agreeable contrast to most of the hotels 

 outside of Athens, being clean, neat, and 

 simple, and with an excellent cook. For 

 this latter my indifference is known to be 

 Gallio-like, but I had to think of my 

 friends ! 



We were off to bed shortly after dinner, 

 as our exploration was to begin at an 

 early hour. I had foreseen a profound 

 sleep, but the Oracle, doubtless resenting 

 the presence of moderns near her sanctu- 

 ary, picked out several choice dreams 

 with which to haunt my slumber. These 

 were not of an entirely disagreeable na- 

 ture. In one of them the Oracle, sitting 

 at the foot of my bed and with features 

 strikingly suggestive of those of my col- 

 ored mammy — dead 30 years syne — fore- 

 told a brilliant career for me. 



As the Nubian in question had never 

 w r hile living predicted anything but the 

 gallows as my reward, the wild improb- 

 ability of such a thing coming from her 

 lips was such a shock as to wake me up. 

 In my second slumber I successfully 

 strangled the Python and awoke with the 

 bedpost firmly clutched in my hands and 

 the warm sunshine flooding my room. 



Delphi, to describe it geographically 

 and exactly, is on the steep southern 

 slopes of Mount Parnassus. The general 

 view suggests the auditorium of a gi- 

 gantic theater, set for a tragedy of Titans, 



