Section 1 of A Ride Across the Peloponnes This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Read by Rob Marland in Zante. A Ride Across the Peloponnes by George Macmillan Section 1. The Approach to Greece Come, let us go to the land where the gods in the old time wandered, where every breath even now changes to ether divine. Clough With my mind full of such thoughts as Clough has suggested in the above lines, and with eaten days yet fresh in my memory, I went on board the Trinocria, which left Brindisi about 8.30pm on Easter Sunday, April 1st 1877, bound for Corfu and Greece. Till 10 we paced the deck, watching the stars come out and the coast of Italy fade from view. Then we turned in, knowing that the land on which our eyes would open in the morning would be Greek. The moon shining in through the cabin window woke me at 3.30pm, but though I looked out eagerly to catch a first sight of the wished foreshore, nothing was to be seen as yet but sea and sky. At 5 I awoke once more, and this time saw two small islands lying to our right, outposts of Hellas. No more sleep for me. Dressing hastily I rushed on deck and found we were passing on the left under a rugged range of mountains, snow-capped, and running down sheer into the sea. These I soon found to be the acrus surrounding mountains, rampart of Epirus. The sun was shining brightly behind them, and the gleam made it rather hard to make out the details, but one could see that they were rugged and barren. In front lay Corfu, its peaks quite buried in masses of white cloud. The sea was a rich greenish blue, broken up by a fresh breeze into innumerable white horses. As the sun rose higher, the peaks of the mainland were lighted up, and deep shadows thrown down the hillsides. Soon a low neck of land, with higher ridges and clouds behind, began to appear faintly before us, seeming to bar further progress. This was the north-eastern extremity of Corfu. The northwest end of the island was now quite distinct, and one could see that while the main ridge was bare, the lower slopes were covered with olives. By seven the scene was quite changed. We were in the quiet water, smooth as glass and a brilliant pale green between Corfu and the mainland. The sun was quite up, and the clouds had risen from the heights of Corfu, though still clustered round the inner peaks of Epirus. At about nine o'clock we came to anchor in front of the picturesque town of Corfu, with its row of white houses built along the shore and the citadel, crowning a double-peaked height in the midst. Crowds of boats came round us, one of which conveyed us ashore amid a great bustle. There, to our delight, we saw actual Greek names and descriptions over the shop doors, and heard, though as yet without understanding, the same tongue in the mouths of the people. The town as we passed through to the hotel was full of men in picturesque, albeit dirty, Albanian costume, rough sheepskin cloaks, white linen kilts or fustanelli, leggings, and for the most part broad brimmed straw hats, who would come across from the mainland to attend a festival on the day before. The town bears evident traces of its frequent change of masters, a great gateway surmounted by the Lion of St Mark, and a fortress bearing the same emblem here and there on its massive walls, tell of Venetian occupation, while English influence is visible in many ways, most noticeably perhaps, in the curiously mixed jargon of the shopkeepers and loafers in the streets. We drove out in the afternoon through the groves of oranges and lemons and olives, in which, as in vegetation of all kinds, this favoured spot abounds, to a place from which we were shown a lovely little islet, sat like a jewel in the glittering blue sea, and covered with white houses and dark cypresses. This, we were assured, was the very rock into which the ship of Alsinus was turned by angry Poseidon on its way back from Ithaca, after conveying Odysseus to his native shore. For Corfu, let it be remembered, is said by some to have been the seat of that wealthy Facian empire whose praises Homer sung in the olden time. About five o'clock in the afternoon, on April 3rd, we took steamer for Zante. Between six and seven, the sun began to sink behind Corfu, and colours both gorgeous and delicate would effuse over the whole scene. Above the sun, the sky was a rich orange, the coast beneath a deep purple. The hills of Albania, massed behind us, showed a fainter colour through a kind of haze of light, which yet left the outlines quite distinct. The mainland on our left was rosy pink, the sky above a pale blue, the sea a dark slatey blue, melting, as time went on, into blackness. By ten o'clock, the sea had become perfectly calm and looked like a great lake. The hills of Corfu grew black, the mainland and sea a dull grey, till at length, in the west, the light died away, leaving but a faint gleam to mark where the sun had gone down. All this was very lovely and quite fulfilled one's idea of what Greece and the Greek islands should be. Nevertheless, it was difficult to suppress the feeling that, after all, we were not yet in true Greece. We were entering by the back door. If we were overcome by a sense of too exquisite beauty now, what new emotion should we have left to us to feel when we crossed the Seronic Gulf, when we stood upon the Acropolis of Athens, when our eyes beheld the Parthenon? We passed Lucadia and Actium in the night, and when I got on deck next morning about seven o'clock, Cephalonia was close on our left hand, while Zante lay in front. It was pleasant to find, as we neared Zante, that Homer's epithet, Woody, might still be applied with some truth. Compared with its huge neighbour, it might certainly be called so, the lower parts of the island being covered with olives. In an hour's time we began to see faintly in the east the mountains about Missalongi, under whose shadow Byron died. By nine o'clock we could make out a dim outline of the Peloponnesian coast, above which towered the snowy range of Aramanthus, dividing Ellis from Arcadia, while farther south rose the mountains of Messania. Soon after nine we turned into the Bay of Zante. The town is very picturesquely situated, a cluster of White Houses set in a framework of rich vegetation, with a background of high, bare peaks. Leaving the steamer to pursue her course up the Gulf of Corinth, we pulled ashore, where, through the kindness of an American merchant, a sailing boat was waiting to take us across to Catacolo, as also a fat, good-natured youth named Nicholas, to act as our drugerman in the interior. We were fortunate enough to fall in here with Dr Hirschfeld, the director of the German excavations at Olympia, who, with his party, joined us in our voyage to the mainland. We set off at about half past eleven. The sun was now quite high and the day was glorious. At first, for lack of wind, we had to row along the shore, getting a very pretty view of Zante as we left it behind. The opposite coast, now quite distinct, had the sun full upon it. A haze hung about the lower part, but the bare snow peaks of Aramanthus glittered against the sky, looking almost too brilliant to be real. This curious and beautiful effect we had also observed when looking from Corfu at the Albanian coast. It is due, I believe, to radiation, favoured by an extremely clear atmosphere. One can hardly imagine that these are real mountains at all. They look as if freshly painted on the sky for a canvas, or as if hung from above, veritable castles in the air. As we reached the southeast points of Zante, a fresh breeze sprang up, before which we ran merrily along, and made good way towards the opposite shore. Nothing could be more delightful than was this gliding over a summer sea. The brilliant sunshine tempered by the wind which at once fanned our faces, filled our sails, and called forth from the glassy surface of the water that Anirithmon Yelazma, that countless laughter of which Greek poets never tired of singing. How vividly did the words of these same poets come home to us as we gazed at the mountains and coasts and islands which lay around our path. Hardly one but had its story to tell. Behind us we were leaving Woody Zakynthos, Cephalonia, and beyond this again Ithaca, home and kingdom of Odysseus. Far inland we could see Parnassus, loved dwelling-place of the Muses, a snowy ridge faintly penciled against the sky. South of this again rose Hor Kileney. Just opposite to us on the left stood our old friend of the morning, Erymanthus, while away down to the south glittered a fourth snow-peak, Laikion, sacred to Pan, and as some say, the nursing-place of Zeus himself. Perhaps nothing in the whole of our journey made one realise so clearly as did this Panorama, the smallness of Greece. Who, for instance, would have supposed that Parnassus was visible from Zakynthos and Ithaca when the map shows us that it is separated from either place by a distance of at least 100 miles. Footnote, a similar surprise awaited us when we found that the acrocorinthus could be seen from the Athenian Acropolis. About half past five we rode into Catecholo Bay and at last set foot in real Hellas. It was a lovely evening, the air soft, pure and mellow with the radiance of the sinking sun, the sea a pale blue with a shore of golden sand, green hills in the foreground, and the snowy range behind looking no higher than Ben Lomond, though it is 7,000 feet. The whole scene was very peaceful and home-like. End of section one. Section two of A Ride Across the Peloponnes. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Rob Marland in Ancient Olympia Beside the Temple of Zeus. A Ride Across the Peloponnes by George McMillan. Section two, Olympia. Carriages had been sent to meet us from Pyrgos about six miles inland, the first stage our journey to Olympia. Our road lay at first through a marshy plain covered with asphodel, bracken and rough grass. Later on the ground became more cultivated and we passed fields planted with the current vine and with fig trees, gardens full of orange and lemon trees and rows of dark cypresses. By the time we reached Pyrgos it was dark. The town, which is of modern growth, consists mainly of one long, straggling street, along which we rattle to our inn through crowds of people in all possible costumes, making as much noise as they knew how. An aim in which they were assisted mightily by the dogs, which abound in all parts of Greece. There were a great many soldiers about. A bugle blown about nine o'clock dispersed these when the town became comparatively quiet. We had been promised entertainment in the shape of a performance of Hamlet in Greek at the theatre Royal of Pyrgos, but unfortunately it being passion week, old style, we found the theatre closed. About eight o'clock next morning, April fifth, we set off on horseback for Olympia. At first the road lay through a richly cultivated plain, then ascending a little, we passed through a picturesque break in a low range of hills into the valley of the Alpheus and were soon in sight of the famous plain of Olympia. It is a rich alluvial plain covered with luxuriant vegetation and watered by the Alpheus, which comes down loaded with soil from the Arcadian mountains to the Seves just below the point where in former times the temple stood and the games were held, the waters of the Cladius rushing down from the hills of Ellis. Green hills covered with trees stand about the plain broken only by these two river valleys. One low knoll rising immediately to the northward of the Alpheus is Mount Cronian. The Greek legend tells us that here Cronos had his seat and that in memory of his overthrow these Olympian games were instituted by Zeus, his son and vanquisher. At the foot of this hill was the Altus, the sacred grove, where stood statues and altars innumerable, while between this and the Alpheus stood the three great temples of Olympian Zeus, of Hera his wife and of the mother of the gods. What a sight to see when all this lovely plain was crowded with men in brighter power coming, some in chariots, some on foot, from the sea on the west, from the highlands of Ellis on the north and of Arcadia in the east. How must the sun which now sheds its radiance over the relics of departed glory have then lighted up with triumphant gleam that wondrous mass of temples and altars and statues glittering with red and blue and gold in the days when the mighty temple of Olympian Zeus still stood in all its beauty, fit habitation for the masterpiece of Phidias. Quote, states fall, arts fade, but nature doth not die. No, we see the plain no doubt very much as Pericles as Alexander must have seen it.  Man's work alone has well nigh perished. May fragments of it are but now being unearthed and restored to the light of day. Should we seek the causes that have wrought this change, we should find that man and nature have been working together, that earthquake and river have carried on the work begun by the hand of the barbarian till the German expedition which entered upon the labours of excavation two years ago found nothing in this famous spot but an unbroken expanse of waving grass. On reaching the scene of the diggings we were shown first a curious Byzantine basilica which had lately been dug out and which is attributed to early Christian times. We then passed on to the temple of Zeus. This has now been fully excavated so that the plan is quite clear. Nothing remains actually in situ save the basement, a few of the bottom drums of the columns and a piece of the wall of the cellar. But as the earthquake which destroyed it must have burst in the middle of the temple so that the columns in many cases complete lie outwards on all the four sides, it's not difficult to reconstruct it in imagination. It must be confessed however that for one who saw here his first Greek temple, this temple at Olympia in its present state was profoundly disappointing. Not because there's nothing standing I was prepared for that but even Porcinius' careful statement that the temple was built of porous stone from the neighbourhood had not prepared me for the extreme coarseness of the material. One somehow had a notion cherished even in the face of obvious facts that no Greek architect would look at anything less attractive than Parian marble and yet here you see drums and capitals of the roughest possible composite. Three or four of these huge members were entirely made of shells. No doubt stucco and colour concealed these defects in the days of old but now they're painfully obvious. If the temple however, as it now is, did not quite fulfil one's hopes and wishes the disappointment was amply compensated for by the glorious fragments of the sculptures in Parian marble adorning its pediments which have lately been discovered lying round about. Porcinius who visited Greece in the 2nd century AD has left us a very complete and as far as one can see faithful picture of Olympia at that time. He tells us that these sculptures were entrusted to two pupils of Phidias those of the eastern pediment to Pionios to whom also is attributed the very beautiful figure of victory found at this end of the temple in 1876 those of the western pediment to Alcamines. The figures of Pionios, a Thracian artist, are very noble in conception and vigorous in treatment but the work of Alcamines which the labours of 1877 brought to light has more finish and grace. One could hardly imagine anything more perfectly adapted to the height about 60 feet at which there to be seen than is the style in which these figures are executed. The moulding of the limbs is of first rate workmanship the general lines of the figures are exquisitely graceful the whole effect is one of simple majesty unimpaired by the necessity of considering minute detail. The subject of the western pediment is a very favourite one with Greek sculptors the battle of the centaurs and the lapithae at the marriage feast of Pairithus. The most noticeable because the most perfect figures that remain are one a reclining figure of a woman leaning on her left elbow and gazing in that direction with an eagerness of attitude rather than of expression for their faces quite calm. Not even in the Elgin marbles is there anything nobler than this. It must have occupied the northern extremity of the pediment and is supposed to represent a nymph watching the struggle. Next to this is too a magnificent fragment a woman in the grasp of a centaur the head and half the body of the woman are perfect and much resemble the nymph in treatment both have their hair confined in a close fitting cap. Of the centaur there only remains the right leg which powerfully clutches the woman's waist. These with the rest of the figures from the pediments the victory of Pionios and some beautiful fragments of metopes representing the labours of Hercules were standing in a wooden shed whence they will eventually be removed to the museum at Athens. In a smaller shed among numerous fragments of mouldings pottery etc we saw two grand heads quite perfect a female and a male. The latter is supposed to represent Apollo and to have stood in the centre of the western pediment. Of all these sculptures the Germans are taking casts and photographs those found in 1876 are already to be seen in the first part of the account of the Olympian discoveries which is being issued at Berlin. The second part will I believe be published very shortly. Footnote. Since the above was written the second part also of the Ausgrabungan Zoo Olympia has appeared and contains all the figures of Alchemynes. End footnote. The importance of this find can hardly be exaggerated. Pionios and Alchemynes were mere names to us and yet of Alchemynes Palsanius says that he was second only to his contemporary Phidias in the making of statues. When we had seen the sculptures we mounted again and rode up to Druva the little village above where we were to lodge for the night. There in the little house which did duty for an inn a lamb roasted whole was set before us. We had here also our first experience of resin dwein a liquor which we could only liken to furniture polish. It was a relief to get a drink of new milk which was brought to us in a huge wooden bowl after Homeric fashion. In the afternoon we again made our way down to the temple and spent an hour or so wondering about amid its ruins. The day which had hitherto been bright had now clouded over and the air was very oppressive. Somehow this gloomy atmosphere seemed more in keeping with the present desolation of the scene than the bright sunlight of the morning. There was something solemn in the stillness. In the morning workmen had been hurrying to and fro like ants some with spades and pickaxes others with wheelbarrows. Now these men some 200 in number had been paid off and dismissed to keep the approaching feast of Easter. We were the only living beings in the place. Sitting there among the mighty fragments one came to admire their rugged grandeur and to forget the hard thoughts which at first sight had come into one's mind because they were not what they had never claimed to be. There was something sublime in the simplicity of the Doric architecture whatever the material in which it works. Then to the historic associations of the place began to assert themselves. Here was a piece of mosaic pavement made of black and white marbles on which one could still make out a beautiful design. By how many of the greatest men of old Greece might this not have been trod? There in the centre of the temple stands an oblong block of stone conjectured to be part of the base of Phidias' Statue of Zeus in gold and ivory a statue which the ancients were unanimous in pronouncing to be the greatest that the world had seen. Had it only been made of Parian marble who knows that the labours of the past two years might not have brought back to the sight of men this masterpiece. But the material chosen for the work was too precious to last. The story goes that the statue was carried to Constantinople by one of the Greek emperors and there destroyed in a conflagration. The stadium or race course seems to have been to the east of the temple of Zeus running along at the foot of Mount Cronian. At present however this spot is covered with a tangled mass of luxuriant grass and shrubs which puts accurate examination out of the question. When we visited Olympia just a year ago only the temple of Zeus had been dug out since that time the temple of Hera has been found and in it a beautiful statue of Hermes which is attributed on the authority of Porcenius to Praxiteles. If this be so it is the only genuine work of that master which has come down to us. Between the temple of Zeus and Mount Cronian lay the Altis or sacred grove which in old times literally bristled with altars and statues. Porcenius' description of them and he expressly tells us that he only notes the most conspicuous occupies some hundred pages and at the end of it one feels quite bewildered at the thought of one small spot of earth containing so rich an art treasure. Though such a collection must have suffered greatly at the hands of time, of nature and of man it can hardly be that excavations in this spot should turn out quite fruitless. While from the unlooked for success of the work Hitherto one is tempted to form high hopes for the future. End of section 2 Section 3 A ride across the Peloponnes this is a Librivox recording all Librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit Librivox.org Read by Rob Marland outside the church in Andritzena A ride across the Peloponnes by George Macmillan Section 3 Bassai The next point in our journey was to be the temple of Apollo Epicaurios at Bassai near Figalea from whence Mr Cockerel brought the Figalean Fries now in the British Museum But Bassai perched high up in the mountains of southern Arcadia was too far away to be reached in a single day Andritzena was to be our first stage Thither, accordingly we set out at 8 o'clock next morning riding along the left bank of the Alpheus over ground very much broken and rich in vegetation of all kinds Anemones, Scarlet, Purple and White shone about our path evergreen shrubs, bay trees, mastic and lorestinous abounded and every now and again we passed a pear tree loaded with white blossom or a Judas tree clad in gorgeous pink The scenery reminded me of the trossics though softer in character and on a smaller scale Up and down among hillocks picturesquely wooded with oak and fur and pine wound the path now descending deep into some thick glade fit ambush for the brigands one hears so much of now climbing some height from which one got a grand view of the river winding through the valley below and the green heights on the other side About 11 o'clock we came to a little village standing on a spur which ran out across our path and round which the river takes a bend northward As we went through the place we passed the house from the balcony of which hung several gay coloured rugs shawls and scarves we learned that this was a wedding trousseau the bride herself a pretty girl with black hair rosy cheeks and dark glancing eyes shortly appeared to whom we raised our hats and wished her, through our mouthpiece Nicholas, every happiness The path now led downwards into a green marshy plain where vines and corn were growing forwarding first the ladon which here joins the alpheus and then the alpheus itself no easy matter for the river was full and the stream strong we pulled up on a very inviting bank of grass sheltered by a group of plain trees after a delightful plunge in alpheus' sacred stream a rough and ready lunch and a short siesta we began to climb out of the valley up a very steep rocky path consisting here and there of paving stones smoothly laid and as slippery as ice it was a wonder that the horses ever found footing upon it at all especially as in some places it was almost perpendicular this paved way was, we were told an old turkish road turks may have their own views as to road making but to the ordinary observer it would be difficult to imagine totally unfit for the passage of men, horses or carriages through a mountainous country we were now passing from sacred elis into Arcadia quote rugged nurse of heroes after riding about three hours through the wildest scenery through thick brushwood with masses of grey limestone rising here and there now descending to the bed of a stream now climbing again to some sweep of moorland covered with white heather six or seven feet high and carpeted still with anemones orchids and gladioli we came at last upon a real Arcadian scene the path suddenly led us right down into a green valley where were sheep grazing tended by shepherds in rough woollen cloaks with crooks in their hands through the midst ran a clear stream spanned by a beautiful old bridge sloping up and down like the roof of a house and paved with limestone blocks buried here and there by a slab of marble this bridge is supposed to be of classical antiquity and to have been originally built of marble alone in the long grass by the stream grew a cluster of white narcissus the whole scene was in smiling contrast to the stern outlines of the mountains around in these cold modern days the gods and goddesses of the good old times no longer wander even in the wilds of Arcadia the nymphs and dryads are no more the Greek women of today do not fulfill that ideal of beauty with which perhaps too sweepingly their ancestors have been credited it would be worse than in gratitude however not to mention a fair damsel who passed us on our way down to this valley bending beneath a load of faggots her face, crowned with masses of dark hair would not have disgraced Aphrodite herself so perfect was it in form and colour so bewitching in expression Andret Senna could now be seen some three or four miles in front perched up among the mountains a very stiff climb brought us to the top of the ridge which leads up to the village looking back from this height we had a glorious view of the whole extent of country through which we had passed mountain, valley and river stretching away to the sea whose silver grey level was broken in the far background by the faint outline of Zante the northern horizon was bounded by Eramanthus and the snow peaks of Arkea the whole was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun turning our backs at last upon this scene of beauty we rode rapidly into Andret Senna thoroughly tired after our long days ride the village makes a striking picture the houses, built mostly of grey limestone with red tiled roofs are perched in picturesque disorder on a steep hillside beneath lies a deep valley whose sides are clad with olives and figs and corn and vines behind rise the mountain masses which divide Arcadia from Messania the village itself stands 3,000 feet above the sea and the keen purity of the air at this height is most exhilarating fortunately so for us for our quarters in Andret Senna were not of the best the little room in which the four of us were to be boarded and lodged contained nothing but one whole chair worn with a broken back and a few three-legged stools and this after 10 hours in the saddle perhaps it may not be out of place to insert here a warning to the traveller in the interior of Greece not to expect too much in the way of food and lodging especially if he falls, as we did upon a season of fasting the more independent he can make himself by carrying with him both provisions and bedding the better it will be for his peace of mind and body I would not recommend a two absolute reliance on the invigorating powers of Greek air though I may myself gratefully admit that this divine aether stood to me in the stead of food and sleep to an extent in which nothing but personal experience could have made me believe next morning, April 7th we started in heavy rain for Bassai our way lay southwards over the mountains behind Andret Senna the country was remarkable for its wild grandeur the bare grey hillsides which surrounded us were streaked here and there with rich colour either of newly turned earth or oak trees with clumps of yellow green mistletoe shining amid their dead leaves the rain which fell in torrents did not damp our spirits but seemed rather to suit the character of the scenery and to add a delicious freshness to the air at last the path which had been winding steadily up became steeper and rougher as we climbed to the top of the ridge our horses picking their way with difficulty among the loose boulders it had now begun to clear and the sun shone brightly out as we came suddenly in sight of the temple of Apollo standing on a rocky platform some 50 feet below no more striking sight could be imagined the ledge at which the temple stands runs out from a grand amphitheater of rugged mountains all of the cold grey tone peculiar to a limestone formation the barrenness of the hillsides covered by little or no vegetation only here and there stands a single stunted oak whose gnarled branches and trunk are covered with dark green moss or golden lichen the last survivors these may be of some mighty forest which in the days of old surrounded the temple now they look forlorn enough the only representatives of life in a scene of utter desolation the view from the temple looking southwards is evident immediately below a precipitous descent leads down into the valley of the nadir flowing westward into the Ionian sea beyond this depression rise on the right the mountains of messania the cone of mount etheme last stronghold of messanian liberty conspicuous among them to the left are seen the grander mountains of Laconia the jagged snow peak of tagitus towering above them all at whose foot stood sparta in the far background of faint glimmer marks the sea in both the messanian and laconian gulfs let us now turn to the temple itself one of the most perfect specimens of doric architecture now existing it was built as parsonius tells us in the year 438 BC by the inhabitants of figalea and dedicated to apollo epicarius the helper who had at their prayer stayed the course of a plague which was wasting their city the architect chosen for the work was none other than ictanus fresh from the execution of the greatest temple the world has seen the Parthenon at Athens surely no architect ever had a more impressive sight to work upon than this which I have attempted to describe we might wonder how people should ever dream of putting a temple in such an inaccessible spot but not history at our side to remind us that all early races and the greeks were no exception delighted to worship their gods in high places so then ictanus set to work using the material that was ready to his hand the gray limestone from the hills around and his work has lasted in some sense to this day for only two columns are wanting out of the 36 which composed its outer circumference the roof which was made of marble tiles is gone and one only of the row of ionic columns which stood around the inner shrine is still in its place the frieze which ran round the top of the keller is in the British museum but even as it now stands the temple possesses that beauty which is quote the fitness of things the perfect harmony of its proportions for which and for the beauty of the stone ad says palcenius above all peloponnesian temples save that of tegea still fascinates the eye the columns are scored in a remarkable way with horizontal wrinkles which at once by concealing the breaks between the drums make them appear monolithic and also produce the effect of old age as if in the laps of centuries they had bent beneath the weight they've had to support the remarkable feature is the pink lichen which grows so profusely over the building as here and there to give it a distinct rosy at tone lastly the effect of the temple being of the same grey hue as the hills around is that one almost loses the sense of its artificiality and comes to regard it rather as a natural growth a strange and beautiful product of some geological disturbance to archeologists this temple presents three points of special interest firstly it's placed north and south instead of east and west secondly there are traces of a doorway into the pro naos of the eastern side and that too not in the middle but nearer the southern end this most unusual opening would seem to be accounted for by the desire which the greeks shared with other nations that the first rays of the morning sun and the temple and if possible fall upon the statue of the god the third thing to be noticed is that when mr cockerel visited this temple 60 years ago he found a Corinthian capital lying among the debris inside if this really formed a part of the original building it's probably the earliest extant specimen of this style of architecture which did not come into common use till late in the 4th century returning to android center about four o'clock in the afternoon we found it was too late to get on to megalopolis the next point in our journey so we were forced to pass another night in our old quarters we amused ourselves till dusk by wandering through the village there was only one street worthy of the name and this was narrow, steep and winding over the shops were wooden penthouses protruding so far on each side as almost to cover the whole breadth of the street the shops in question were merely a succession of general stores each containing the same endless variety of wares from tallow candles to silk handkerchiefs from knives and olives to cigarettes and clothing of all kinds the man of fewest trades was the barber who employed the moments he could spare from his trade and gossip in making boots we noticed that the people were all wearing yellow tapers and on inquiry learned that these were for the early Easter service next day Easter Sunday, old style to this we went out soon after 2 o'clock in the morning picking our way along the rough streets by the feeble light of a lantern to the little church whose monotonous bell was summoning worshippers from all the houses round I am afraid I cannot venture to describe the service there of tapers as we came in from the darkness almost blinded me for a time and that before long the combined smell of these tapers and of incense together with the monotonous drone of the priests was too much for us and we had to come away we had here our first and only sight of the women of Andrit-Sena some of whom were congregated in a closed cage something like the ladies gallery in our house of commons end of section 3 section 4 a ride across the Peloponnese this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org read by Rob Marland in the temple of Athenia Leia in Tagaea a ride across the Peloponnese by George McMillan section 4 Megalopolis, Tripolitsa and Tagaea about 8 o'clock we started for Megalopolis the morning was lovely and the mountains around looked very grand half veiled in masses of white cloud after riding for some miles along a steep ridge we descended through a wood gay with anemones and sicklemen and came at midday to a stream at the mouth of a deeply wooded glen here under some mighty plain trees we went and lunched and then climbed the heights once more we soon came in sight on the left hand of Karatena remarkable for its position on a lofty crag which, standing out from the opposite hills commands the great plain of Megalopolis the highest peak is crowned by the ruins of a Turkish fortress with a picturesque square tower though I believe no mention is made of this spot by classical writers so important a position was not at some time fortified by the old Greeks who knew so well how to make the most of such natural advantages Epaminondas when, after the battle of Luctra in BC 371 he built Megalopolis at the lower end of the plain to act as a barrier against Sparta can hardly have failed at the same time to see and occupy this obvious bulwark against inroad from the west leaving Karatena behind us we now descended into the plain which extends for some 30 miles towards the southeast and is covered with luxuriant vegetation great fields of vines and corn lay about our path and here and there were clumps of olives or figs or mulberries where the ground was not cultivated grew long grasses and glorious wildflowers we didn't see many people working in the fields doubtless because they were keeping the Easter festival in the villages round about of these we counted some 7 or 8 scattered over the plain and on the lower slopes of the hills very picturesque they looked with their red roofs and white walls and gardens of silver grey olives this rich plain is watered by the Hellison which, like the more famous Meander in Asia Minor owes its name to the extreme sinuosity of its course the peculiar temperament of Greek horse drivers may be illustrated by an incident of our ride across this plain the owner of our horses who accompanied us on foot objected, like the rest of his kind to any pace more violent than the walk which is in many places rendered necessary by the nature of the ground but which becomes absurd when the path is level this objection he based not on his own inability to keep up with us but on the theory that rapid travelling horses whose natural pace was a walk we, however, weary of this slow progress persisted in urging our steeds to a trot or gallop when occasion offered we had many disputes on the subject in the course of the day but at last, when we were fairly on level ground we would stand his tyranny no longer but pushed on our horses to a gallop the man who was hot tempered and obstinate losing all control over himself rushed after us seized the bridle of one of the foremost horses and drew his knife upon the rider luckily he had selected the only one of us who carried a revolver the arrested rider with great presence of mind drew this weapon from his pocket and pointed it at his assailant's breast so for a few seconds they stood at a deadlock then the Greek with a sulky air jerked the knife back into his girdle and bared his breast in the most magnificently tragic way courting destruction to his disappointments, however the revolver was quietly put back and we all galloped past our tormentor whom we saw no more till we were safe in Megalopolis Megalopolis, the great city has now little claim to its high sounding title it's a mere village, hardly larger than its neighbours the streets are very wide, the houses are fresh, the whole effect of the place one of trimness in the centre is a large square like an English village green at one corner of which rises a tall Cyprus, soaring heavenwards like some dark Campanile we were armed with a letter from a friendly doctor at Andrit's centre to the demarcus or mayor of the village for this dignitary we at once made inquiry of the crowd who quickly surrounded us when we rode on to the green at about six o'clock after some consultation a fine young fellow magnificently clad in native costume strode up to us with a kingly air beckoned us to follow him and led the way to his father's house where, in the absence of the demarcus we were to be lodged we were shown into a large reception room richly furnished with fine rugs thrown about upon couches and on the floor this room was placed at our disposal and after our late quarters at Andrit's centre it seemed a very palace leaving here our baggage we went out with our young host and various dignitaries to see all there was to be seen a dance which they asserted to be pyrrhic first attracted us to a corner of the green where two concentric circles women inside and men outside were going round hand in hand with a kind of swinging step to the sound of two melancholy pipes and a drum the women were not very striking in their personal appearance and their costume was decidedly oncomely they wore ill-fitting silk dresses of the shapeless cut which was fashionable among ourselves some twenty years back and of gaudy colours on their heads was still the red fares with long black or gold tassel which, picturesque in itself was utterly incongruous with the rest of the dress it seems a great pity that a really picturesque dress should thus be driven out by the desire of imitating western fashions but civilisation has a natural tendency to destroy national distinctions and in this case the people themselves do not understand our feeling a greek lady whom we met afterwards in Egyna heard with scorn our complaint that the national costume was dying out perhaps this too is natural though nonetheless a matter of regret the men megalopolis showed far better than the women both in looks and dress the greater part wearing the fustanella or kilt of white linen gay leggings handsome braided jackets and on their heads a red fez here as elsewhere in Greece we were struck with the fine bearing of the men which is partly to be explained by the use of stays and the natural restraint of the fustanella fastened tightly round the waist soon growing tired of the monotony of the dance we went out to see the remains of the old town which was built on the banks of the river whereas the present village is a mile or so from it the most conspicuous object is the theatre which palcenius describes as one of the largest in Greece it was cut out of the side of an earth and mound the seats and extremities being of stone the seats are gone now but the shell of the building as grown as it is with vegetation is still clearly visible and the stone facings remain between the theatre and the river the sight of the various public buildings is marked only by a piece of masonry cropping up here and there through the young corn in one place we made out the plan of a temple from fragments of the wall of the cellar and a few broken columns lying about the ground was profusely strewn with old pottery it's quite possible that excavation might lead to some result here for the soft alluvial soil may well have accumulated so as to leave the old level of the city far below the surface a green mound on the other side of the river was pointed out to us as the tomb of philipoman the greatest man megalopolis ever produced that he was buried in great triumph in his native city we know from Plutarch who adds quote he calls him the last of the Greeks as if after him Greeks had produced no great man nor who deserved the name of Greek end quote megalopolis which was founded as the capital of an Arcadian league designed to counteract the influence of Sparta in the Peloponnes never attained the importance anticipated for it by Epaminondas the scale on which it was built was so much too large for its population that a comic poet said of it the great city is a great desert it probably never had such influence as during philipoman's long generalship of the Arcadian league when it was more powerful than even Sparta we return to the modern village amid the glow of a glorious sunset which tinged plain and mountain and sky with every gradation of colour from rosy pink to deepest purple at supper we were waited on by our host a fine old man and his two handsome sons all dressed in the national costume we had some talk with the father about the condition and prospects of Greece of which he spoke very hopefully he was the son of Colo Catronez one of the heroes of the war of independence next day April 9th we started for Tripolița or Tripoli the road after winding up out of the plain in the northeasterly direction led for some distance through a dull southern table land gradually relieved however by patches of green corn and then lighted up in a wonderful way by the sun from whose beams the bare limestone hills caught a rosy glow looking back we could see the snowy peaks of Tegatus peeping out from behind the intervening ranges the air was marvelously clear and every outline of the landscape even to the farthest horizon we were now for the first time since Olympia on a really good road and our pace was proportionately increased after a short halt at about 3 o'clock we crossed a very rocky ridge and then came down into the plain at the further end of which stands Tripolița and where of old stood Mantenea and Tegaea the sun was sinking as we drew near to the town and we pulled up at the foot of a low ridge from view to wait for one of our party who with the baggage horses and Nicholas had attempted a shortcut into the plain with the not uncommon result of being left far behind by those who had kept to the road after waiting for some time in vain and failing in the absence of an interpreter to learn the cause of the delay from the drivers who had overtaken us we determined to push on to Tripolița and get a search party sent out for something we thought must have gone wrong either a band of brigands had been lurking in the crags or our friend had perhaps met with a fall and so was lying helpless five minutes gallop brought us into the main street of the town quite full of men walking about in handsome dresses and little boys shouting fair faces smiled upon us from windows and balconies as we passed a sunset glow touched the red roofs of the houses set in a background of purple mountains but our minds were far too uneasy to appreciate the picturesque as we rode slowly along little boys came round us eager to point out the hotel gradually men joined the throng and at last we stopped in the midst of a large crowd upon whom we gazed hardly able to repress a smile at the absurd helplessness of our position after many vain inquiries we found a man who spoke a little French to him we told our tale and through him we learned from the drivers that the missing party was close behind us going back to test the truth of this statement we met the cavalcade in question just entering the town what was our surprise to find that the delay which we and our anxiety had attributed to an onslaught of brigands or a broken limb was due to nothing more serious than a great coat and rug these had fallen from one of the horses as they clambered down the crags and it was believed they had been picked up by a party of peasants who had been passing at the time at any rate an hour's search had failed to recover them the incident gave us some insight into the ways of Greek provincial justice having given information to the police we were waited upon in our inn by an official who demanded our full names addresses and occupations in life and an accurate description of the missing articles and the circumstances of their loss one of the drivers further deposed to the names and dwelling places of the suspected peasants so much for the method of justice which seemed intelligent enough the more the pity that it should have failed in its end but neither great coat nor rug was heard of more we had brought an introduction to the doctor of the town who came to see us with his advice we put ourselves during our short stay into the hands of the Astonomos or head policeman by whom or by one of his subordinates we were attended in all our walks about Tripoli this was to guard us and as we found not without reason against the natural desire of the natives to make the most of the few strangers that fall into their hands early next morning we rode out to see Tagaea of Tripoli the visible remains of this ancient and at one time powerful city are very scanty in front of the little church of the modern village lie a few broken columns conjectured to belong to the temple of Athenia Lea which was built by Scopus about BC 390 and is described by Porcenius as the largest and most magnificent temple in the Peloponnesus we were shown also inscriptions and bar reliefs built into the walls of the houses and in a small room which did duty for a museum were collected some more precious relics among these were two bar reliefs of really fine work though much mutilated one presented a banqueting scene in which men and women were arranged in alternate pairs the men reclining while the women sat upright we had some difficulty in seeing these properly and still more in deciphering a long inscription setting forth the terms of a treaty with some neighbouring state because the togains of today would persist in blocking up the doorway behind us while faces of every age and description peered in at the one little window which gave light to the room one of these faces however was worth looking at a beautifully clear cut profile the nose, slightly aquiline full dark eyes and olive complexion overshadowed by a rich waving mass of dark brown hair no cameo was ever finer than this face of flesh and blood thinking that here at last was the fair greek maiden we had pictured in our dreams we looked eagerly round as we came out of the cottage to find the owner of the face among the crowd greatly to our surprise we traced it to an awkward half grown lad of some 14 or 15 years who slunk about among his companions as if half ashamed of his beauty it was a disappointment for the character of the face was undoubtedly feminine and one felt that in a boy its perfect beauty was marred by the lack of strength and firmness nevertheless it was a face not easily to be forgotten the history of togea was long and eventful reaching from heroic times for the days of alaric by whom towards the end of the fourth century AD it was utterly destroyed its people were brave and war like it was long before they yielded to the supremacy of sparta and the support they accorded to that state during the peloponnesian war was rather that of an ally than a subject in the persian wars togea almost alone of the peloponnesian states bore a noble part in the struggle for the liberty of greece sending 500 men to thermopylae and 3000 to platea here again as a megalopolis under the limpia there has been an accumulation of alluvial soil beneath which very probably libered many remains of the city which palsanias visited and described in the second century of our era we got back to tripley by nine o'clock and as we could not get a carriage to take us on to argos till three we employed our time in inspecting the town though the shops were shut for easter the people were glad enough to open some of them for our benefit we went into a silk manufactory where we saw some beautiful work the whole place has a thriving air the people look comfortable and happy new houses are springing up in the outskirts of the town and in the fine square in the centre a cathedral of some pretensions is being built the services of our guardian were really needed when the time came to settle with our host the bill was so enormous 120 francs for one night lodging for the four of us and just three meals that we could not pay it without appeal we handed it therefore to the Astonomos who sat down pen in hand and proceeded to go through the items one by one reducing each by about one third till the whole stood at the rather more reasonable figure of 80 francs our host meanwhile for whose splendid dress of red and gold we could not help thinking that an extra charge must have been made looked on with folded arms poor innocent Nicholas who had seen very little of life outside his native and well-beloved Zante was quite astounded by the impudence of his fellow countrymen one item of this bill he never quite got over 25 francs for four oranges and some salad he was always vowing he would write on the subject to the Greek papers as we too were quite resolved for the benefit of future travellers to write to the times our wrath subsided without ever seeking utterance in the columns of the great redresser of grievances as we got at last into our carriage we were surrounded by a busy murmuring crowd whose sympathies so far as they had any went rather with their townsmen than with the strangers and as we drove away ourselves somewhat ruffled in temper we left by fear no friend behind us in Tripoli but the faithful Astonomos with a firmness and good temper worthy of all praise I only hoped that he was not torn in pieces afterwards by the disappointed innkeeper this is not likely however the Greeks seem to take things very much as they come if they can get round a stranger they think it no great harm to trade on their superior sharpness if they're outwitted or thwarted in any way they bear the disappointment with an easy half amused indifference this same easiness of temper is the cause of another characteristic which the inland Greeks at least share with most oriental nations they have no idea of the value of time you order your horses at 6 in the morning and the drivers turn up at 7 or half past and are quite offended if you venture to suggest that they're behind time their theory being, apparently that nothing is of very much consequence and therefore that any time will do for most things End of section 4 Section 5 A ride across the Peloponnes this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org read by Rob Marland at the top of the theatre in Argos A ride across the Peloponnes by George McMillan Section 5 Argos and Mycenae along downhill drive along a good road through wild barren country with rugged mountains frowning upon us till it was too dark to see them brought us to Argos at about half past 12 our host the doctor and ex-mayor of the town took us in the morning to see all the sites of the place modern Argos is a very picturesque little town built mostly around a large square which boasts a cathedral and public offices of some pretensions not to mention a carriage stand the shops are sheltered as in Andretzena with wooden penthouses in the town itself and in the suburbs are a good many gay villas set in gardens full of oranges and lemons and mulberries from which delicious whiffs of fragrance greet the patabai hanging above the town at the height of some 500 feet rises the rock of the citadel the old Larissa crowned now with the ruins of a Turkish fortress fragments of the old Greek walls are said to be visible about the foundation of the building other ruins including a very fine piece of polygonal masonry which probably formed part of the wall of the lower city are to be seen at the foot of the ridge near this spot and cut out of the living rock is the theater one of the finest in all Greece though much overgrown with grass and flowers the rows of seats are still quite distinct from the top one gets a glorious view of the rich Argolic plain bounded on the east by the blue waters of the gulf at whose head stands Naplia its grand rocky citadel looking down with paternal dignity upon the busy port beneath inland on every side the plain is set about with mountains on the west the ridge of Parthenium which and Artemisium our road had lain on the previous night to the south the ridge on which we were standing sweeping away to our right to join the mountain masses of Laconia on the north range rows above range till the farthest was hidden the clouds at the foot of the foremost range of northern mountains a low height was pointed out to us as Mycenae and a small knoll nearer to the sea considering the very prominent part played by Argos in Greek history from the days when King Diomedi joined his neighbour Agamemnon in his expedition against Troy up to the latest period of Greek freedom it is disappointing to find so few remains of pristine greatness save a theatre which stands proof against the ravages of time and the scanty ruins of the walls to which we have referred nothing remains to tell that Argos was once a great city time seems in some sort to have punished Argos for her cruel treatment of her rival Mycenae Mycenae was destroyed in 468 BC and so far as we know has never been inhabited since Argos on the other hand has lasted till this day but it has outlived its greatness the town is so modern so busy and full of life but even what relics of the past remain are almost forgotten in the stir of the present at Mycenae no disturbing element comes in to break the contemplation of its mighty past the massive walls the curiously wrought vaults the newly found treasure are silent witnesses to days of power of skill and of wealth which must have been to whatever period we may assign them of the after time nothing reminds us the desolation of centuries has preserved to us dim but unbroken the image of Mycenae as it was 2,000 years ago before starting for Mycenae we had a most interesting and amusing interview with the uncle and mother of our host the former of whom had fought in the war of independence he was a fine grizzled old man clad in Greek dress and somewhat bowed with age he was quite delighted to be reminded of the good old times and at once began to fight his battles over again for our benefit illustrating his narrative most graphically with the stick which supported his tottering footsteps the torrent of eloquence and invective which poured forth as he hobbled up and down the room in his excitement nearly convulsed us with laughter though we could not understand him thoroughly we managed to catch a word here and there all of us imparted towards the gist of his meaning the chief exploiter he had taken part in was an attack on some Turkish gun boats at Naples which had been attended with complete success turning to present politics we asked him if he would be willing to fight again should occasion require it I need hardly say that he expressed perfect readiness and did not seem to mind whether it were against Turks or Russians but one of the most wonderful and energetic old women I ever saw seemed equally desirous to join in the struggle and to bury her nails in the face of any foe that might come bidding farewell last to this heroic couple we set off to Mycenae a drive of about an hour through fields of waving corn alternated with great stretches of newly plowed land brought us to the foot of the ridge where the memnon was built leaving the carriage in the village below we took the path upward having gained the first height we came at once on the left upon the famous treasury or tomb of Atreus its wonderful hive like structure is too well known to need more than a passing mention here the immense size of the stones with which it is cased inside and the extreme nicety of their cutting and fitting in Mycenae choose mechanical appliances must have been of great efficiency the rude ornamentation over the doorway shows however that art was in its infancy when the mason's craft had reached a high point of excellence climbing a little higher we came upon a second tomb of similar though less perfect structure it has fallen in from about half way up and the interior is blocked with a pile of masonry which was cleared aside to some extent by Dr. Schleeman nothing of any importance however was found here a steep footpath led us up from this point to the famous gateway of the lions the wall on the left hand side of the gateway both inside and outside is a very fine rectangular masonry the gateway itself is on a larger scale than I had anticipated the entrance must be some 12 feet high and the lions carved on the huge stone which forms the lintel are about 5 feet in height passing through the gateway we came on the right hand upon the scene of Dr. Schleeman's labours the plot of ground excavated is about 40 yards long by 20 wide surrounded on the three sides which overlook the plane by the outer wall of the citadel while the fourth is bounded by the road beyond which rises the huge inner wall the space in which the principal tombs were found is shut in by a double circle of upright slabs of stone their contents into the discussion of which I don't propose to enter here have long ago been transferred to Athens so we saw nothing but the fragments of pottery with which the ground was thickly strewn a climb of about 150 feet brought us from this point to the top of the hill on which my scene I was built its position is striking whether from a military or picturesque point of view its on a spur running out from a steep range of barren hills lying about north west and south east there's a break in the range just behind the city and it's to the northern most of the two ridges thus formed that the mycenae and spur belongs looking south west from the citadel the whole plane of Argos lies spread before you indeed the view from this point was even finer than that which we had enjoyed in the morning from the theatre of Argos the sun trying hard to force its way through the heavy masses of cloud which hung above the opposite range of Parthenium shot gleams alternated with belts of dark shadow across the plane at our feet on our right a green slope led away to the pass through which lies the road of Namia and Corinth beyond this in the far background of the colony lifted its snow crowned head on our left a bare limestone ridge glittering in the radiant air led the eye to where the sea sparkled a pale blue overhung with a soft haze beyond this again the mountain masses which divide our goalists from Laconia swept around till they joined Parthenium in unbroken line save where the citadel of Argos stood boldly out on the hill of Mycenae can still be traced three lines of wall in the lower one on the north side is a remarkable post and gate made of three huge blocks of stone two serving for posts while the third lies across them the masonry is all on a large scale partly polygonal and partly of square cut blocks as we drove back across the plane to Argos a rich evening glow came over the whole scene gradually fading into dusk as we re-entered the town we didn't stay longer than to pick up our baggage and say farewell to our kind host for Nauplia was to be our resting place that night end of section 5 section 6 a ride across the Peloponnes this is a Librivox recording all Librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit Librivox.org read by Rob Marland in Nauplia a ride across the Peloponnes section 6 Tirins and Nauplia we left Argos at half past 6 and about 7 we passed Tirins which lies only 50 yards from the road dark though it was we could not miss seeing this famous fortress dates from the very earliest days of Greece Wally Tirins Homer calls it and Wally indeed it is it's a low mound some 250 yards long by 50 broad and not 100 feet in height surrounded by walls whose makers might well have passed for more than mortal among the men of old huge uncut blocks some as only a wagon with a strong yoke of oxen could lift a piled one upon the other in a sort of rude order though no tool has been used and no mortar binds the blocks together the surface presented to outside view is yet wonderfully regular and unbroken this wall which is from 12 to 15 feet in height and 25 feet thick runs right round the mound with hardly a break clambering up in one place where several blocks had fallen we gained the interior of the fortress which is mostly overgrown with nettles and other rough herbage on the north side access to the centre is given by a curious subterranean passage it's roof arched with slabs leaning over against each other and pierced here and there with loopholes there are other galleries of a like nature though we saw only this one the weird grandeur of this giants fortress whose characteristic features lost nothing by the dim light in which we saw them filled one with irrepressible awe we puny mortals of today could but vaguely wonder how at a time when as far as we know the crane and the pulley were unheard of these great blocks had been brought hither and poised one upon the other with such perfect nicety that the wall which they compose has lasted now probably for nearly 3,000 years and seems likely to last as long as the world itself the name of Tirins is linked with that of Perseus and of Hercules who is often called the hero of Tirins and who slew the Hydra in the Linnean marshes hard by men of Tirins took part long afterwards in the battle of Plataea and it was then destroyed like its neighbour Mycenae and probably about the same time by jealous Argos returning to the carriage we drove rapidly on to Nauplia passing as we neared the town through a grand avenue of white poplars the tree sacred to Hercules and by gardens sweet with the perfume of orange blossom it was about 8 o'clock when we entered the big gate of the town and rattled along under the shadow of the citadel rock into the square around which the hotels are built Nauplia was with the single exception of Athens the most modern looking town that we saw in Greece the streets are wide the houses high and roomy and the whole place gives one the idea of a town which has seen better days this indeed is the case it has from its position always been a flourishing seaport and after the Greeks had won their independence from Turkish rule it was under its then name of Napoli de Romania relic of Venetian occupation made the capital of the new kingdom the population of some 12,000 but since the removal of the government to Athens it has sunk in importance though still one of the most active ports on the east coast of the Peloponnes Pausanias tells us that Nauplia was first inhabited by a colony of Egyptians brought by Deneus to Argos and from its position it seems likely that this would be one of the first spots to attract immigrants from the east in Greek history it appears chiefly as the seaport of Argos in the middle ages it was held and fought for in succession by Franks, Venetians and Turks the ancient tradition which attributed its name to Nauplius, son of Poseidon and father of Palomides has left its trace in the name Mount Palomidi still born by the grand rock of the citadel the next day April 12th being the anniversary of the epanestasis or national uprising against the Turkish tyranny we were aroused as early as five o'clock by the sound of bugles summoning the soldiers and I suppose that people generally to take part in a triumphal march round the town the musical accompaniment of this demonstration broke in upon our dreams and lasted so long that further sleep was out of the question the blaire of trumpets was followed by cries of Khala milk, milk when we got out into the square below we found that these proceeded from various boys and girls who walked up and down with leaven bags of milk under their left arm at a signal, one of these a rosy cheeked maiden who alone we noticed was correct enough to use the definite article in her cry came running up to us and tilting up her bag poured out a glass of delicious fresh milk holding herself overpaid with a couple of lapta equals one pence we had intended to start for Epidaurus at six o'clock but our horses did not appear till after seven and it was not till half past that we last rode out of Naples passing again through the Venetian gateway by which we had come in the night before we turned sharp to the right and began to ascend the mountain pass behind the town the road was very stony the country when we had got out of the plain exceedingly wild and barren the dry, chalky soil seemed to produce nothing but rough grass and a few stinted shrubs when however we had passed the summit of the pass and began to descend on the other side, we seemed to have come into a totally different zone of vegetation the ricks brown earth produced in luxuriant abundance lorestinous, oleanders figs, vines and olives here and there stretched fields of waving barley while about our feet the ground was gay with flowers the most conspicuous was a splendid red poppy with a black cross in the centre which seems on the east coast of Greece to take the place of the scarlet anemone which abounds on the west coast the cystus a low shrub with a white flower rather like a dog rose was also very plentiful and a small kind of holly with coloured leaves about two o'clock we came suddenly in sight of the sea with a gena in the distance and the low hills of Attica beyond the scene was lovely beyond description we were riding through a thick olive wood whose silver grey foliage made a fine contrast with a bright blue of sea and sky the sun shone brilliantly and masses of white cloud cast their shadows down the steep hillsides the air was full of the breath of spring and of the joyous song of birds an hour's ride through this very paradise brought us down to the little harbour of Epidaurus where we soon found a sailing boat to carry us across to the Piraeus and so our ride across the Peloponnese was over a week not free from discomfort a traveller must make up his mind to that but also full of intense delight had shown us some of the beauties of Greek landscape some of the glories of Greek art had brought us face to face with places long familiar to our minds in Greek legend and history the greatest was yet to come not many miles across the blue waters at our feet we can see the hills of Attica locked in whose embrace lies Athens end of section 6 and end of a ride across the Peloponnese by George Macmillan