be disturbed. But I had no time to pity Anaxandridas; for close by, with his eyes, wherein reason was quenched for ever, almost starting from their sockets, the wretched Pheidippus, apparently tonguetied by some fearful convulsion which had taken place in his nature, was pulling vehemently at something underneath a fallen pillar. I stooped down. The little Eudocia was crushed beneath it. It had fallen on her face. He was pulling at the long yellow hair of his little sister.

I awoke with a start. The green hills in their tranquillity were still clasping the hollow round about, the horses were still cropping the white, withered grass, Demetris' gay Greek dress was still lying motionless in the centre of the amphitheatre, and the two behind the lentiscus stems had not stirred a limb.

From Iero to Epidaurus the road winds the whole way through a series of rude and woody glens. We had several views of considerable beauty in thus crossing over the top of the Argolic peninsula. One, in particular, struck us very much. It was a place where three ravines met. Two of them were covered with tall shrubs of very various green, and innumerable wild flowers; and the other one was clothed with an old shaggy over-hanging wood of stonepines. To be sure, the wood was evergreen; yet the trees did not grow straight or formal, but were large, well grouped, and presented here and there,

with the afternoon sun upon them, massive clouds of sleeping foliage. Then again, as we neared the sea, we had some lovely peeps of the blue bay of Epidaurus, and the south end of Egina, with the island of Ankistri between. One view in particular was very pleasing. We stood on a rocky platform raised above a ravine, four or five miles long, perfectly straight, and filled with a tangled mass of many colored trees, over which several kinds of creepers trailed their tendrils, decked with blue and white and lilac bells, so that, although a little stream ran unseen down the middle, the whole leafy dell was covered with a close matted green and colored net-work. At the end of the ravine lay one round pool of divinely blue sea, with a pale mountain beyond. It was the most plentiful day of any we had had in Greece for strange flowers and strange butterflies and foreign trees. Indeed, the road from Iero to Epidaurus must rank with the defiles of Parnassus, and the shores of the Euripus, from Oropo to Egripo, the as three most beautiful things we have found in a land which, so far as we saw, has not much fine scenery to attract a traveller.

At Epidaurus there are some vestiges of ruin, and three statues were excavated a few years ago; there is nothing to interest any one but a professed antiquarian. The main attraction of Epidaurus is its little bay, the loveliest sea-pool which can be imagined, the most tranquil home for Nereids, where

they might provoke the envy of the gazing Oreads from the neighboring hills, as from the hot shrubby underwoods they might address the Nereids sporting in the cool blue water:

Wissen's wohl, in Meeresfrische

Glatt behagen sich die Fische,
Schwanken Lebens ohne Leid;
Doch ihr festlich regen Schaaren,
Heute möchten wir erfahren,
Dass ihr mehr als Fische seyd.
Was sehen wir von Weiten

Das Wellenreich durch-gleiten?

Als wie nach Windes Regel
Anzögen weisse Segel,

So hell sind sie zu schauen,
Verklärte Meeresfrauen!

We came forth ourselves from the deeps of the Epidaurian bay so refreshed, that we were confident that Esculapius had imparted a peculiar health and coolness to that sea-horn: and having hired a boat with the sign of a serpent, most appropriate for Epidaurus, we sat upon the projecting rock where the little church stands, gazing upon the glossy tremor of the windless seas, till the evening breath should blow from old Argolis, and waft us over to Peiræus. We had a pleasant and a patient watch in the shadow which the eastern gable of the low Greek church threw across us. As if for our sakes, now leaving the Peloponnese probably for ever, there came a series of the most lovely pieces of sunset and twilight coloring, painted upon the mountain which

M m

forms Cape Estemo, and stands forward guarding and concealing the bay of Epidaurus. It is said to be an extinct volcano. For one whole hour, while a silence reigned around, deeply impressing the spirit and breeding solemn thoughts of nature and her agents and Him whose light finds way through her transparent veils, we looked at Cape Estemo. It was an altar whereon light, the first day's emanation of the Divine Will, the first embracer of this beautiful world, who lies upon the earth and shines upon the sea, and in whose bosom, which darkness never utterly overrules in the deepest nights, all the works of men repose-it was an altar, whereon light came and wove bright figures, and stirred like the shiftings of the evening Angel's wings. For one whole hour there came glowing flushes of purple, rose red, deep orange, and misty blue, and dwelt upon the breast of Estemo, to give God glory, to stir Angels' praise, and to chasten man's heart.

Oh, my dear friend! my teacher in so much of the best of all wisdoms, my example of the gentlest of all tempers! who art now serving the Church far, far away, in a rude colony, having denied thyself all the delights of home, and stripped thyself of a hundred joys long cherished, in imitation of Him Who emptied Himself of unspeakable glories to be our High Priest, it is a pure and soothing thing to me to recal any of thy words, and here in the Epidaurian Bay shall that strain haunt, which broke forth from thee when week by week thou didst commemorate in song the

works of the Creation, and the mystery of light, that prophetic veil, as thou didst interpret it, spread over all nations.

"This world I deem

But a beautiful dream,

Of shadows that are not what they seem,

Where visions rise,

Giving dim surmise

Of the things that shall meet our waking eyes.

"Arm of the Lord!

Creating Word!

Whose glory the silent skies record,

Where stands Thy Name

In scrolls of flame,

On the firmament's high-shadowing frame!

"I gaze o'erhead,

Where Thy hand hath spread

For the waters of Heaven that crystal bed,

And stored the dew

In its deeps of blue,

Which the fires of the sun come tempered through.

"Soft they shine

Through that pure shrine,

As beneath the veil of Thy Flesh Divine

Beams forth the light

That were else too bright

For the feebleness of a sinner's sight.

"And such I deem

This world will seem

When we waken from life's mysterious dream,

And burst the shell

Where our spirits dwell

In their wondrous antenatal cell.