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By Thomas D. Seymour.

REECE is a new country. Less than sixty years ago she emerged from a devastating war in which nearly onethird of her people perished and many women and children were sold in Turkish slavemarkets. Her towns were in ruins. Her roads and bridges were destroyed. Her vines, fig-trees, and olive-trees had been killed. She was in the lowest depths of poverty. She had neither courts of law nor schools for the people. "The Greeks had by long oppression been degraded into a kind of Christian Turks." During a despotism of three centuries and a fierce war of six years, and in the following years of uncertainty and anarchy, her men had learned lessons of cruelty and desperation. She had no trained and recognized leaders.

Can any one wonder that brigands still haunted her mountain fastnesses, and that the land was racked by civil dissensions?

Greece is still to us the land of art and philosophy, the intellectual leader of the ancient world, the parent of modern civilization. Many of the Greeks themselves dwell in the memory of the past, and this has done much to lift them from their humiliation, though they may have been at times more ready to boast of their ancestors than to emulate them. They cherish the ancient glories of Athens and Sparta. They see before them every day many memorials of former greatness. To them no insult is so dire as the insinuation that the old race has become extinct, and that the

present inhabitants of the country are descended from Goths, Slavs, and Turks. The degradation of the nation under Turkish rule renders the memory of recent centuries abhorrent, and the recollection of the earlier glory is all the more delightful. Modern Turks and ancient Persians are classed together. The story of the defeat of Xerxes is as personal to the Greek as many of the conflicts in the war for independence.

The kingdom of Greece is known to modern statesmen as an insignificant country, important only as a disturbing element in European politics. The land is small-about as large as the State of West Virginia, a third smaller than the State of Indiana (with which it agrees in number of inhabitants); twice as large as the kingdom of the Netherlands, but with only half as many inhabitants. Its area and population are both about the same as those of Bulgaria; but its revenue is twice as great. It covers about 25,000 square miles. In latitude it corresponds exactly to the lower half of the Spanish peninsula, lying between the 40th degree of north latitude (about the latitude of Philadelphia) and the 36th (that of Gibraltar and Knoxville); the 40th parallel passes over Mount Olympus, and the 36th parallel is just south of the island of Cythera. Athens lies just midway between these extremes, on the 38th parallel, a little north of Richmond.

Shakspere's epithet, "nook-shotten," can be applied to no other country so truly. The sea has insinuated itself into the land in many bays and indentations. The coast-line of Greece is nearly two thousand miles in length-three times as long as is strictly necessary to enclose

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it. With an area smaller than Portugal, Greece has a coast-line longer than that of Spain. Only one country of Peloponnesus does not touch the sea. This nearness to the sea affects not only the scenery, but the life of the people.

Greece is an island. The day seems yet far distant when the mountains of the north will be pierced, and railroads built through ancient Macedonia. Athens is reached by steamer from Constantinople in less than 36 hours; from Messina in less than 48 hours; from Rome, viâ Brindisi, Corfu, and Corinth, in less than three days; from Trieste in two hours less than four days; from Marseilles in five days. The traveller has a wide field for selection, and each route has its advantages.

Leaving Rome on a Wednesday evening, I reached Brindisi, on the east coast of Italy, in time for dinner on Thursday evening. The steamer left at midnight, and reached Corfu early on Friday afternoon, after a delightful sail along the Albanian coast, where range after range of mountains rises behind the rocky shore. The good harbors of Greece are not on the west, but on the east side of the country. We remained at Corfu long enough to enjoy the view from the citadel, to stroll through the town, and to drive through the beautiful suburbs, delighting in the fascinating luxuriance of vegetation in the grounds of the royal villa. Early on Saturday morning, we reached Patras, at the entrance of the Gulf of Corinth, and during that forenoon we were passing between high mountains-Parnassus on the north, and Cyllene and others on the south- -near enough to the shore to secure an everchanging foreground for the scene. The steamer reached Corinth at two o'clock Saturday afternoon. Thence the traveller proceeds to Athens by rail; only about fifty miles, but it is a four hours' ride. The steamer from Brindisi now connects with the railroad for Athens at Patras.

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Greece is divided into little principalities by a network of high mountains. No peak rises into the region of perpetual snow; but both Parnassus, rising above Delphi, and Taygetus, towering above Sparta, are about 8,000 feet in height. The still higher Mount Olympus is unfortunately yet in the

possession of the Turks. These heights are almost all barren; most are abrupt, and scored by sharply cut ravines. The country has been often shaken by earthquakes, and the rents of volcanic action have been worn still deeper by the winter torrents.

Greece is a little world in itself. Nowhere else does the traveller find such a variety of climate, scenery, and_customs, within such narrow limits. From orchards of figs, mulberries, oranges, and olives, one can stroll easily in a morning's walk to chilly and barren regions where only goats find a scanty subsistence. The barren plain of Attica, with its clear, cloudless sky, is but a dozen miles away from the heavy atmosphere and fertile soil of Boeotia.

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The different climates of Greece are too numerous to be treated briefly, and none but that of Athens has been accurately observed. Few changes seem to have occurred during the last twentythree hundred years, except as nected with the destruction of the forests, and the stoppage of some subterranean channels which has made certain districts malarious. Athens is noted for the dryness of its air, exceeding that of any other city in Europe; the seabreezes lose all their moisture in passing over its plain. Colors in the distance do not fade into a monotonous bluishgray, but the colors of the plants, the rocks, and the earth form a sharp contrast with those of the sky and the sea, which are much deeper than ordinarily seen in the eastern States of America. Distance seems to be annihilated. The lack of perspective in ancient Greek art has been explained by the lack of perspective in Athenian scenery. Mount Hymettus, half a dozen miles away, and no easy climb, seems fitted for a walk before breakfast; the citadel of Corinth, more than forty miles away, is clearly seen; while Mount Cyllene in Arcadia, more than seventy miles distant, is one of the most striking objects in the Athenian landscape, and its snow-clad summit has been seen at midnight by the light of the moon.

Most of the rain of the year falls in December, January, and November; and it comes in showers rather than in longcontinued storms. Only twenty-nine

days of the year are called cloudy, and on only three of these is the sun completely hidden all day long. In the summer, Athens suffers from drought, and the wind drives the fine dust in suffocating clouds. The dryness of the air tends to the preservation of the marble statues and temples, which do not become moss-grown and corroded as in America, but take on a golden patina.

The mean temperature of Athens is 62 F., nearly that of Corfu, Gibraltar, or the Bermudas-three degrees higher than that of Lisbon; but it is colder in winter, and much warmer in summer. The difference between the temperature of January and that of July, according to the thermometer, is about threefourths the difference between the temperature of the same months in New York City. But both the cold and the heat of Athens are very piercing. Little snow falls in Attica; most of it melts before reaching the ground; but the fierce wind drives the sand in storms in winter as it does in summer.

In spite of the chilly months of winter, Greek life is in the open air. The houses are built for temporary shelter rather than for constant occupation. Many of the Greeks sleep in the open air during the summer months. Their gatherings for amusement are on the open squares. The artisans and traders pursue their calling in the streets, not infrequently occupying all of the sidewalk. From the Acropolis of Athens, one looks down into a multitude of little courts, and sees the importance of these for the family life.

In the spring-time, many villages and hamlets have gatherings for dancing in the open air. The dance at Megara has attracted so much admiration that a special train is sent from Athens on Easter Tuesday, for the accommodation of those who wish to see the gay costumes, bright faces, and curious dance. This festival at Megara has become a public display. One afternoon, on my way back to Athens from the ruins of the fortress of Phyle, I saw a similar dance before the village church of Khasiá. There the people seemed almost jealous of the presence of foreigners.

On Easter Monday, two years ago,

as I strolled along the shore of the bay of Salamis, I saw a small sail-boat just putting off. I hailed the skipper and he took me on board. A fresh breeze brought us to the island in ten minutes. After an examination of one or two topographical questions, I strolled at random along a path through the fields. Presently I found myself within a hamlet. The passages between the houses were lined by high walls; they were not intended for vehicles, and had not been trodden by horses. No house had a window or door opening on the street, but an occasional gate ajar gave me a glimpse into a courtyard where the family lived. Opposite the entrance was a chicken-coop or an oven (shaped like a beehive). The houses had been newly whitewashed, in honor of the Easter season, and the vertical part of the steps was washed with bright blue. I met only two men, and pursued my way. After many turns (the passage was as crooked as the streets of Venice), I came to the public square, which was about seventy feet each way. At two corners of this square, were sheds of cafés where groups of men were smoking, and drinking a very resinous wine. A high wall formed the sides of the rest of the square; only one narrow, wooden-shuttered window was to be seen. Along three sides of the square, sat the matrons of the hamlet, with their babies and other young children-some sitting on a bench, others squatting on the ground. I evidently was the only onlooker who did not live in the village. I joined one of the groups of men and was very courteously received. They were eager for a comparison of customs. In the middle of the square was a ring or coil of maidens, the eldest perhaps twenty years of age, the youngest hardly more than five years old. No two were dressed exactly alike, yet there was a general similarity of style. All wore long white skirts, some of delicate materials and others of heavy stuff. The overskirt, reaching to the knee, was dark and full, hanging in many folds. A broad belt of silk hung below the waist. An elaborate apron of great variety of color and decoration, reached nearly to the ankles. Each maiden wore a closely-fitting vest, generally of red,

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bright blue, or gilt. This was

cut low and

round in front, and served as stays. Over the upper part of the breast hung a little stomacher, on which were strung jingling gold and silver coins, the girl's chief dowry. Over and around the head (sometimes covering the lower part of the face), was wrapped a gay kerchief. Seven of the girls, however, who always stood near the head of the line, wore veils of white tissue. The maidens' sleeves showed no organic connection with any outer garment; they fitted the arm closely, and were of some silk stuff, with stripes running around the arm. Most of the girls wore slippers, but a few were barefoot. The whole costume was bright with harmonious colors.

About sixty of these maidens danced together, with arms interlaced in a double line, for hours. The dance was led by one or two young men at the head of the line-attached to the maidens only by means of a handkerchief! The music was only the humming of the girls, -rarely did the words of the song become really articulate. The steps were simple, generally three forward, followed by three back obliquely, so as to move in a circle.

I saw no "mixed dances" of men and women in Greece, though these have been imported to the cities. The men, however, as in Homer's day, have their own dances, which are much more vigorous than those of the girls.

Greek houses are never built in many stories, like the houses of Italian cities. The people are not fond of climbing

VOL. IV.-7

Delphi and Mount Parnassus.

stairs, and some have a wholesome dread of earthquakes, which have caused devastation in many parts of Greece. Even the narrow streets of Athens are not dark; they are cosey rather than gloomy. In Sparta and Messenia, the sides and roofs of many houses are made of bamboo-like reeds, well plastered with mud. In Peloponnesus, generally, the ground floor of the dwelling is used as a storehouse and stable, while the living-rooms are reached by an outer staircase. Many of the peasants' huts are barren and comfortless. A violent storm drove us one afternoon to accept the shelter freely offered us in the best of a small group of cottages. A heap of dry furze divided the hut into two rooms, into one of which our horses were led, to the place of the family donkey. The family room had no floor, chimney, nor windows; no chair, table, nor bed. An aged man lay near the fire, two small children were playing with kids, which evidently disliked the smoke; a baby lay in a trough, which doubtless served also, on occasion, for a bread bowl. The mother of the children exerted herself to put dry shrubs upon the fire, and make us comfortable. Her husband was with the army in Thessaly, on the Turkish frontier.

Athens lies five miles from its harbor, the Piræus. The two towns now have about 100,000 inhabitants. In the early ages of Greece, cities were founded at a distance from the shore in order to avoid sudden incursions from pirates and hostile neighbors. Thus Argos, Mycenæ, Thebes, and Sparta do not lie on the sea. The seat of the new Greek government was established at Athens, half a century ago, largely for sentimental rea

D. Jullet

A Greek Girl Dancing.

sons, because of the glory of the ancient town. This situation is beautiful, but not so convenient as that by the harbor, and every archæologist mourns that (since the new city covers the ruins of the old) the ground is too valuable to allow of systematic excavations. Athens is a modern city; but, just as in the kingdom of Greece the distance is short from valley to mountain, from inland plain to the sea, so at Athens a walk of a few minutes takes the traveller through several kinds of civilization, and to monuments of different ages. The centre of the modern city is the Square of the Con

stitution, in front of the heavy Teutonic palace, of Pentelic marble, near the foot of Mount Lycabettus, which rises 900 feet above it. The best hotels are near this square, and from it a line of street-cars leads to the northwest, one steam tramway to the east, and another to the shore at the old harbor of Phalerum; while the principal business street leads to the west. Most of the modern city is European, and thus comparatively uninter

esting. In the best business street the shops are small imitations of those of Paris. No distinctively Athenian or Greek articles are exposed for sale, except photographs and antiquities. The windows are filled with "nouveautés de Paris." The good book-stores are conducted by Germans. Near the palace are broad streets with avenues of pepper-trees. Here are the University,

the beautiful building for the Academy of Sciences (which has not yet been formed), and the handsome houses of the excavating archæologists, Schliemann and Carapanos. Ten minutes' walk from the palace in one direction brings the traveller to old Byzantine churches; to narrow streets where carriages could not pass, and to still narrower ways in the bazaar, where donkeys carry the heavy burdens; where the men wear the broad trowsers of the islanders, or the Albanian white fustanella (petticoat); where all articles offered for sale are of home production. A fifteen minutes' walk from the palace in another direction leads the traveller past the Queen's garden (the greenest spot in Athens), the Russian Church, the English Chapel, the building which was for five years the home of the American School of Classical Studies, the magnificent columns of the Temple of Zeus Olympius, the Gate of Hadrian, the beautiful Choragic Monument of Lysicrates, the great Theatre of Dionysus, the Sanctuary of Asclepius, the Odeum (or Music-hall) of Herodes Atticus, to Mars' Hill and the Acropolis itself, with its Parthenon! The antiquities of Athens can be seen very quickly and easily. An English officer, a travelling companion of mine, was overcome with ennui on the second day of his stay in Athens; he had seen all that was to be seen!

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