House & Carden 
AN UPPER TERRACE OF THE ACHILLEION BY MOONLIGHT 
of her lord and master, while one can all but 
catch the rift in the mainland through which 
the mysterious, plutonic Acheron finds its 
way into the sea. 
Again Achilles is recalled to us. Enter¬ 
ing the palace from the eastern extremity of 
the colonnade, one is face to face with the 
heart-rending but magnificent scene of the 
death of Hector—The Triumph of Achilles. 
It is a scene resplendent with the color of 
life and somber with the shadow of death, a 
scene that brings again to mind the greatness 
of the intellect which conceived it, no less 
than that which gave form to the conception. 
The mangled Hector, dragged relentlessly 
before the swimming eyes and amid the 
deafening cries of his helpless countrymen 
and friends, becomes to the spectator an 
object of sincerest pity, while the heartless 
victor is to him both wonderful and shame¬ 
less. And turning from the scene, he seeks 
again the open air and, catching in the dis¬ 
tance a sight of that same victor in the agony 
of death, he whispers to himself, “ How are 
the mighty fallen,” and the hate for the 
heartless victor triumphing over his fallen foe 
melts away to be replaced by commingled 
pity and admiration for the no longer con¬ 
quering but conquered hero. 
Silently the visitor steals from the spot, 
as yet unconscious of the thing or things 
which have impressed him most, but know¬ 
ing only that whether he remembers in 
detail much or little, there has been indelibly 
impressed upon him somewhere a feeling of 
the elevating beauty and harmony of the 
Achilleion which neither the passing of the 
years nor of scenes still more beautiful can 
ever efface from his memory. 
