time for drawing, and if you keep your hand in practice and have much genius, it will burst out at some future day."

Here I saw that smile again, but was not hurt by it now; I smiled also, and told him I knew he was right and I should accept the offer.

With melancholy determination I took down my sign, its gilt letters still untarnished. I carried my easel, my lay figure, and all my valuable possessions to my attic, and took a last fond look of the sky-light which had been the confident of so many aspirations.

My new business was one that was valuable and interesting in itself, as well as profitable, so that I felt I was doing something besides merely making money, and I could not but confess that I was happier while actively employed among other men, than when waiting, and waiting in vain, in my lonely studio.

Yet I sometimes looked back with regret to those days of sweet delusion, and retain such an affection for Iphigenia that I carried it home with me when I went to visit my mother. She regarded it with maternal pride, and gave it an honorable place in her parlor, opposite Uncle John. I laughed very much when I saw that delight of my childhood, so meek and cadaverous it now appeared to me, but I turned to my own picture, and thought it almost as absurd. There

seemed to be a family resemblance between the two-Iphigenia and my Uncle John!

I went with my mother to see Mrs. Brown for the first time since that eventful day on which I was so enraptured by Jephthah's daughter. I sat in the same place at table, and had the same quince, I believe, but could eat it now with perfect composure. I was highly amused to see how flimsy the daughter was in her lilac mantle and pink train, and how very thick Jephthah's sandalled legs had beThe white damsel also was no longer a phantom of delight.

come.

The next morning I called upon Fanny Ann. She was playing a singular tune on a rickety piano. She welcomed me with sweet timidity, and had many pretty little airs and graces; but her hair was in curling-papers, and I did not stay long. I presented her portrait-that gem of art-to her grandmother, whose sight was almost gone, and the good lady was very much delighted with it.

But the river, the hills, and the widestretching fields were as beautiful as ever, and I told my mother I should build a pleasanter house on the old place, in a few years, and that she should come and live with me, and-some one else. "Fanny Ann!" said my mother; but I thought of another Fanny.

dim light some five or six old openings or doors on the right, which served at some time or other as doors leading to the outside of the city. They were all walled up some time posterior to the building of the wall. What could they have served for? Perhaps as secret openings through which sallies might be made upon the enemies who might besiege the town.

We found another similar passage on the opposite or western side of the great entrance; but it was less interesting. The vault was perfect for a short distance only, and the rest was quite destroyed. We passed on and ascended to the top of the city, which seemed to me to be elevated some thirty to fifty feet above the plain, one part being much lower than the other, which formed a sort of interior fortress. The top is about seven or eight hundred feet long from north to south, and usually about one fourth as wide, though it varies considerably. On these three or four acres of ground stood the famous city of Tiryns, one of the oldest cities in Greece, and famous for the most part only for its wars with its neighbors. It is curious to see that in the time of that most invaluable of writers, Pausanias, sixteen or seventeen hundred years ago, it was in pretty nearly the same ruinous condition as now. "The wall," he tells us, "the only part of the ruins that remains, is the work of the Cyclops; and built of unwrought stones, each of which is so large that a yoke of mules could scarcely move at all, even the smallest of them. Small stones have been of old fitted in with them, so as to form each of them a connection between the large stones." Nothing but earthquakes, I think, could make much impression on these gigantic masses; and so the wall remains pretty perfect in most of its circuit. The view over the vicinity is beautiful and quite extensive, and there is a neat-looking building near the southern end, an agricultural college, which has not flourished very well so far, I believe. The Greek mind does not, I imagine, incline much to agriculture.

Demetri came to us before we had satisfied ourselves with examining these ruins, and reminded us that we had a long ride before us, promising that if there should be time we should have the opportunity of spending half an hour more at the place on our return. So we were compelled to mount, and we pursued a northerly direction, over a level plain abounding in villages and well cultivated, leaving the city of Argos far on our left. Near Mycena the soil became thinner and the country

We

less populous. At the little khan of Kharvati we turned from the main road, on our right, and followed a path which led us through the village of the same name. Our arrival was greeted by some dozens of boys who came to beg, and as many dogs who came to bark at us; but we set both at defiance, and pursued our way. We were struck with the miserable condition of the inhabitants, who lived in common low stone or mud hovels, thatched with the brushwood and herbs gathered in the vicinity. A short distance on we reached the neighborhood of Mycenae, and before entering the inclosure of the walls, we came to the far-famed "Treasury of Atreus." An inclined plane lined on either side by massive stone walls led us down to the building, which is excavated in the bowels of the hill. rode down, and, entering by the wide portal, found ourselves in a great circular chamber, about fifty feet in diameter, and about forty in height. It can neither be said to be vaulted, nor to be conical, but the sides are somewhat circular. The whole consists of a series of regular courses of squared stone, gradually narrowing until the summit was formerly covered with a single stone. The most remarkable thing about the architecture is the circumstance that the dome is not constructed with an arch, but that the successive circles of stones by their very weight are held firmly together. gateway through which we had entered, however, struck us more than any thing else. The passage is scarcely more than eight feet in diameter; but it is spanned by an enormous soffit twenty-eight feet long, while it is nineteen broad, and three feet and nine inches in thickness! that mass weighing several tons was raised to a height of twenty feet above the soil, and that too without the aid of modern improvements in machinery, is a mystery difficult to solve. Certainly the architects of Agamemnon's time were no mean ones. Above this door is a triangular opening or window, which serves to let a faint light into the building. Leaving our horses here, we groped our way through a similar but more narrow door, now much obstructed with rubbish, into a smaller chamber. Demetri brought in a few armfuls of brush, and soon kindled a fire, which revealed to us its form. It was a damp room some twenty feet square, by our measurement, and fourteen high; cut out of the hard rock, and left rough as at first. Its use is uncertain. Our guide persisted in calling this the Tomb of Agamemnon, while the rest

The

How

ums can fail to notice an equal likeness to their rigid outlines. It is a well authenticated tradition that the Egyptians sent colonies to this part of Greece; but it seems very doubtful whether these monuments resemble each other any further than in the mere clumsiness which characterizes all works of remote antiquity. What makes this and the other ruins of Mycena the more interesting, is, that in the time of Pausanias, two centuries after the Christian era, they were nearly in the same state as now. "The inhabitants of Argos," says that historian, "destroyed Mycena out of envy; for whilst the Argives remained at rest during the invasion of the Medes, the Mycenians sent eight men to Thermopylæ, who shared the work with the Lacedæmonians. This brought destruction upon them, as it excited the emulation of the Argives. There remains, however, besides other parts of the inclosure, the gate with the lions standing over it. They say that these are the works of the Cyclopes, who constructed the wall at Tiryns for Protus." The great topographer also mentions the subterranean treasuries of Atreus and his children, his tomb, and those of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra.

We lingered for an hour or two among these ruins, and then hurried back to the little village of Kharvati, to take our lunch at the khan. While we were partaking of such food as our guide had provided, a few peasants brought in some ancient coins of the Byzantine Empire. They set an enormous price on them--and indeeed these persons value an early Christian coin far above much more ancient ones. If they get hold of a medal of Constantine, they keep it as an heirloom, and scarcely any thing can tempt them to part with it. We left our worthy friends in possession of their treasures, and set off on our return, following, however, a somewhat longer road, which led through Argos. This took us more than two hours, for our horses were miserable creatures; and the road, though pretty good, and in dry weather even passable for a carriage, led us directly across the swollen stream of the Inachus, which, indeed, forms quite a respectable creek at this season of the year.

We found Argos quite a different looking place from Nauplia. The houses are much newer and lower, and many of them

are scattered about in the gardens and vineyards, forming a populous, but not at all a closely-inhabited town. Nauplia is its rival, and for a long time overshadowed it; but now Argos contains about ten or twelve thousand souls, while Nauplia has only eight. Our object here was to see the remains of a Greek theatre. To reach it, we had to go the greater part of the town, and a crowd of boys, seeing the "milordi" coming, quitted their games to follow our steps. We had seen enough of their character to know that there was nothing to be gained by commanding them to be gone. Every one who had been loudest in his play but a moment ago, pressed us in piteous tones to give him a penny; and when we alighted, half a dozen called us in different directions to show us the ruins. If we followed, or walked behind, any one of them, he was satisfied that we had engaged him as guide; so that, by the time we got through, we found ourselves indebted to them, by their own calculation, in quite a little sum. The theatre, itself, however, we found interesting enough, notwithstanding our clamorous attendants. The seats are cut into the solid rock, rising one above the other on its face, and divided by alleys into three divisions. Though the lower part of the theatre is covered over with soil, and a flourishing wheatfield occupies the arena-some sixtyseven seats are visible. In one or two places, there are on the neighboring rocks some small bas-reliefs, which we could make little of. A friend of mine told me, that in this theatre was held one of the chief congresses during the Greek revolution, in which, if I remember right, he himself sat.* From the theatre we returned to Nauplia. Our way led us through the agora, or market-place of Argos. This name is not here always applied to a building, or an open square; but to the portion of the town where provisions and other commodities are sold. Here there were few or no shops, every thing being exposed on cloths or boards stretched on the ground, on either side of the street. Like the Turkish bazars, these places are noisy and crowded; every seller screams in your ear the excellence of his goods, and you are heartily glad when you find yourself fairly out of the place. There were few houses between Argos and Nauplia, a distance of seven or eight miles; but the traffic and intercom

munication between was evidently considerable. We reached the harbor near the time for the leaving of the steamer on its return to Athens, and my companions, who were in haste to return, hurried on board. As for myself, I had resolved to vary my return, by crossing to Corinth, and taking the steamer thence to Piræus. As Demetri was to return with the rest of the party, and I trusted to my knowledge of the language to make my way, I had a new pass made out, and soon domiciled myself in the small old hotel of "Peace," opposite the public square.

Mine host, who rejoiced in the name of Elias Giannopoulos, or Joannopoulos, finding I could speak the modern Greek, was disposed to show me every attention. It was too late in the afternoon to procure permission of the mayor to visit the Palamede; but he volunteered to show me the other curiosities of the place. He took me to the church of St. Spiridon, a little building in a narrow lane, remarkable for nothing in its exterior, or interior either. "This," said he, 66 was the spot where Capo d'Istria, the first president of Greece, was slain by the sons of Petron Bey. The two Mavromichalis, the assassins, stood down here in this alley, and when the president came from the church into the doorway, they wounded him mortally." My friend Elias, though he disapproved of the action, and saw how utterly useless such an assassination must be, yet, I must confess, did not appear very sorry for the murdered man, who was the head of the Russian party. He grew very animated in describing the abuses of the government here, and the corruption introduced, even into the municipal authority. My window at the hotel looked out upon the monument erected to the memory of Ypsilanti, and mine host is much interested in learning that a township in America had been named after the favorite modern hero of this part of Greece.

I had to be up early the next morning. I had engaged an agogates to furnish me with a horse, and to come along with me. As Elias wanted to get travellers from Corinth to come to his hotel, it was easy for me to find a guide. Sideri was ready early the next morning, and as soon as I could get prepared, we started. During the night the weather had undergone a sudden change, and instead of a clear, bright day, such as we had enjoyed, the clouds hung threateningly along the sides of the hills, offering but a poor prospect for our long day's journey. Again we had to traverse the plains of Argos along

the same road which we had crossed the day before. We lunched again at the khan of Kharvati, near the ruins of Mycenæ. Here the plain ended, or rather contracted into a valley, and that shortly ended in a narrow ravine. This was the entrance into the Pass of Troetus, a pass known in antiquity for its difficulty. It was here that, in 1822, 8000 Turks, under Drami Ali Pasha, after having ravaged the whole plain of Argos, and utterly destroyed the town, attempted to cross the mountains into Corinthia. The Greeks, under Nicetas, were posted at the most difficult point in the passes, while 1600 more occupied the heights about the entrance. When the Turks had fairly entered, they were assailed by these latter, consisting principally of Mainiotes, who fired upon them from behind the rocks and bushes, without offering them any opportunity of defence. Drami Ali hoped, by pushing onward, to free himself from his perilous position. But after two hours' march, with the enemy continually killing numbers of his men, he came to the narrowest place, where Nicetas had been awaiting him. Out of the whole army of the Turks, only two thousand succeeded in dashing by the opposing force. About as many more retreated to Nauplia; but between three and four thousand perished in the awful conflict. Quarter was asked by many, but the Greeks massacred, to the last of their enemies. The plunder was very great. How changed is the scene now! The passes were the very picture of loneliness, and not a sound was to be heard. The pass is noted for nothing but robbers, who till lately infested it. It is considered now the most likely place for them to reappear in, though the Peloponnesus is, at present, entirely free from brigands.

แ

The rain, which had been threatening at any time to descend upon us, now began to fall in torrents. In addition to this, the cold was excessive for the season of the year, and I found an overcoat and an umbrella poor protection. My guide, Sideri, wrapped up in his great capote" of camel's hair, fared much better. The Pass of Troetus is a long one, and we wished to find shelter, hoping that the rain would cease, or at least diminish. We reached at length a hut; but upon opening the door, we found it dark, and crowded by a set of Greek peasants, who were consoling themselves with the bottle for the unpromising aspect of the weather without. So we resolved to go on. Pretty soon we turned from the direct road to Corinth, and took a