Puslapio vaizdai
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Sparta, with Mount Taygetus in the Background.

and has a fine flavor. The hubblebubble nargilehs are seen at the cafés, but the Greeks generally smoke' only cigarettes, which they roll for themselves very neatly.

In other parts of Europe the poorest classes live as plainly as the Greeks, with as little meat and as few luxuries; but nowhere in Western Europe do the owners of the land through large districts of the country live in such rude houses, with so little furniture and adornment, and on such simple food.

A temperate and frugal life does not conduce to many vices and crimes which are common in hot-blooded southern races. Taken as a whole, the Greeks are a moral and orderly people. The revolution which demanded a constitution and the dismissal of the Bavarians, in 1843, and that which drove away King Otho, in 1862, were both bloodless.

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The vegetation of Greece embraces almost every variety of plant and tree, from tropical to arctic. The unbotanical American is pleasantly surprised to recognize so many familiar flowers-daisies, dandelions, violets, poppies, "star of Bethlehem," iris, and the like. Early in the spring the fields are bright with the red anemone, and later the grain fields show many poppies. As we are familiar with fields of daisies or dandelions, and large clumps of golden-rod, so the Greeks see on every hand particolored slopes with flowers in thick masses. On the hill which rises above Thoricus I could not step without treading on three or four kinds of flowers. The asphodel, with long branching stalks, is graceful and attractive when in bloom, but dreary when in seed. The pliant acanthus is far more beautiful than its cousin, our thistle. The cytisus, which is a favorite food of the goats, has a rough, thick leaf, but its blossom bears a rude resemblance to our wild roses. Many of the flowers are so aromatic in their fragrance that the honey may well be high flavored. The hills of Attica are covered with thyme.

The most important tree of Greece is the olive, of which there are about one million in the grove near Athens. The vines are becoming more and more important as better processes of making wine are made familiar. The small

Nauplia, from Tiryns.

raisins, known to the trade as currants (from Corinth), form more than half of all the exports of the country.

Most of the kingdom is sadly lacking in trees. Of European countries, Spain alone is more treeless than Greece. Many districts are now bare which were well wooded in classical times; while Plato saw clear indications that many mountains which were bare in his day had been covered once with forests. In the hot, dry summers, many a great fire is caused by the carelessness of the shepherds; while this devastation is often charged upon the goatherds, whose goats love to browse on the young twigs which grow up after a fire. Monks have been accused of inciting the burning of some forests, in revenge for the expropriation of lands. At any rate, the forests have gone, and so much of the soil has been washed from the mountains, that

trees can hardly find a foothold. The government endeavors to protect the trees, but its forestry force of seven hundred men is too small, and the laws are not sustained by the sentiment of the rural communities. But while Attica has only one forest remaining, in Western Arcadia I rode for five hours through a thick wood of pines and firs, where not a shepherd's

flock or hut was

to be seen for the whole distance, and in Northwestern Greece are other large districts given up to woods. Even in Attica, in favored, well-watered spots, the great plane-trees are luxuriant.

The traveller is often rudely shocked by the contrast between the reality of the present and the ideal picture of the ancient Arcadian life of the rural districts or the intellectual and artistic life of Athens. But doubtless if we could be transported back to Ancient Greece, we should find much that would not please us in the daily life of the people. Men may say, ""Tis Greece, but living Greece no more;" it is still an enchanted land for me. No other civilized country withdraws the visitor so far from the ordinary routine of the present; no other land affords so many suggestions of the life of the ancients from whom our civilization comes. am sure that I understand Greek art better because of my life for a few weeks under the Athenian sky. A few days in Peloponnesus, and a few more in Central Greece, gave me a clearer comprehension of Greek political history. The Homeric age seems more of a reality after a study of the ruins of Tiryns and Mycena. The pastorals of Theocritus

I

have new life and meaning when the
traveller hears the shepherd's pipe and
rustic singers vie in amoebean strains,
while he eats
bread and
milk from the
wooden bowls
which his hosts
have carved.

old superstitions have remained, notably that of telling a disturbing dream to the rising sun in order that the threatened ill may be averted. No land is more thickly peopled with fairies and every kind of benevolent and malignant spirits, than the Greece of today. Doubtless many of the ecclesiastical customs of the present have been moulded by the superstitions of the past. Living in the midst of the same surroundings, with the same climate, the same needs, and the same occupations, the Greeks have retained many of the

peculiarities of their ancestors. The foreign blood which runs in their veins has been thoroughly assimilated. They

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are still
hospita-
ble, dem-
ocratic,
fond of
politics

Greek Mountaineers.

and of discussion, divided in factions, eager for information, quick to adapt themselves to circumstances, patient of suffering, but disinclined to labor.

SOLITUDE.

By Arlo Bates.

ONE sought a place to do a crime
So lone not even God should be aware.
God gave his wish and drew aloof;
Yet not alone he found himself in proof,
Since his own soul was there!

V.

A LONDON LIFE.

By Henry James.

PART SECOND.

ND are you telling me the perfect truth when you say that Captain Crispin was not there?"

"The perfect truth?" Mrs. Berrington straightened herself to her height, threw back her head and measured her interlocutress up and down; this was one of the many ways in which it is to be surmised that she knew she looked very handsome indeed. Her interlocutress was her sister, and even in a discussion with a person long since under the charm she was not incapable of feeling that her beauty was a new advantage. On this occasion she had at first the air of depending upon it mainly to produce an effect upon Laura; then, after an instant's reflection, she determined to arrive at her result in another way. She exchanged her expression of scorn (of resentment at her veracity being impugned) for a look of gentle amusement; she smiled patiently, as if she remembered that of course Laura couldn't understand of what an impertinence she had been guilty. There was a quickness of perception and lightness of hand which, to her sense, her American sister had never acquired; the girl's earnest, almost barbarous probity blinded her to the importance of certain pleasant little forms. "My poor child, the things you do say! One doesn't put a question about the perfect truth in a manner that implies that a person is telling a perfect lie. However, as it's only you, I don't mind satisfying your clumsy curiosity. I haven't the least idea whether Captain Crispin was there or not. I know nothing of his movements, and he doesn't keep me informed-why should he, poor man?

-of his whereabouts. He was not there for me-isn't that all that need interest you? As far as I was concerned he might have been at the North Pole. I neither saw him nor heard of him. I didn't see the end of his nose!" Selina continued, still with her wiser, tolerant brightness, looking straight into her sister's eyes. Her own were clear and lovely, and she was but little less handsome than if she had been proud and freezing. Laura wondered at her more and more; stupefied suspense was now almost the girl's constant state of mind.

Mrs. Berrington had come back from Paris the day before, but had not proceeded to Mellows the same night, though there was more than one train she might have taken. Neither had she gone to the house in Grosvenor Place, but had spent the night at an hotel. Her husband was absent again-he was supposed to be in Grosvenor Place, and they had not yet met. Little as she was a woman to admit that she had been in the wrong, she was known to have granted, later, that at this moment she had made a mistake in not going straight to her own house. It had given Lionel a sort of advantage-made it appear, perhaps, a little, that she had a bad conscience and was afraid to face him. But she had had her reasons for putting up at an hotel, and she didn't think it necessary to express them very definitely. She came home by a morning train, the second day, and arrived before luncheon, of which meal she partook in the company of her sister and in that of Miss Steet and the children, sent for in honor of the occasion. After luncheon she let the governess go, but kept Scratch and Parson-kept them on ever so long, in the morning-room, where she remained; longer than she had ever kept them before. Laura was conscious that she ought to have been pleased at this, but there was a perversity even

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in Selina's manner of doing right; for she wished immensely, now, to see her alone-she had something so serious to say to her. Selina hugged her children repeatedly, and encouraged their sallies; she laughed extravagantly at the artlessness of their remarks, and at table Miss Steet was quite abashed by her unusual high spirits. Laura couldn't question her about Captain Crispin and Lady Ringrose while Geordie and Ferdy were there; they wouldn't understand, of course, but names were always reflected in their clear little minds and they gave forth the image later-often in the most extraordinary connections. It was as if Selina knew what she was waiting for and were determined to make her wait. The girl wished her to go to her room, that she might follow her there. But Selina showed no disposition to retire, and one could never entertain the idea for her, on any occasion, that it would be suitable that she should change her dress. The dress she wore -whatever it was-was too becoming to her, and to the moment, for that. Laura noticed how the very folds of her garment told that she had been to Paris; she had spent only a week there, but the mark of her couturière was all over her; it was simply to confer with this great artist that, from her own account, she had crossed the Channel. The signs of the conference were so conspicuous that it was if she had said, "Don't you see the proof that it was for nothing but chiffons?" She walked up and down the room with Geordie in her arms, in an access of maternal tenderness; he was very much too big to nestle gracefully in her bosom, but that only made her seem younger, more flexible, fairer in her tall, strong slimness. Her lovely figure bent itself hither and thither, but always in perfect freedom, as she romped with her children; and there was another moment, when she came slowly down the room, holding one of them in each hand and singing to them, while they looked up at her beauty, charmed and listening and a little surprised at such new ways-a moment when she might have passed for some grave, antique statue of a young matron, or even for a picture of Saint Cecilia. This morning, more than ever, Laura

VOL. IV.-8

was struck with her air of youth, the wonderful unfatigued freshness that would have made anyone exclaim at her being the mother of such bouncing little boys. Laura had always admired her, thought her the prettiest woman in London, the beauty with the finest points; and now these points were so vivid (especially her finished slenderness, and the grace, the natural elegance of every turn-the fall of her shoulders had never looked so perfect) that the girl almost detested them: they appeared to her a kind of advertisement of danger and even of shame.

Miss Steet at last came back for the children, and as soon as she had taken them away Selina remarked that she would go over to Plash-just as she was; she rang for her hat and jacket and for the carriage. Laura could see that she wouldn't give her just yet the advantage of a retreat to her room. The hat and jacket were quickly brought, but after they were put on Selina kept the maid in the drawing-room, talking to her a long time, telling her, elaborately, what she wished to have done with the things she had brought from Paris. Before the maid departed the carriage was announced, and the servant, leaving the door of the room open, hovered within earshot. Laura then, losing patience, turned out the maid and closed the door; she stood before her sister, who was prepared for her drive. Then she asked her, abruptly, fiercely, but coloring with her question, whether Captain Crispin had been in Paris. We have heard Mrs. Berrington's answer, with which her strenuous sister was imperfectly satisfied; a fact the perception of which it doubtless was that led Selina to break out, with a greater show of indignation: "I never heard of such extraordinary ideas for a girl to have, and such extraordinary things for a girl to talk about! My dear, you have acquired a freedomyou have emancipated yourself from conventionality-and I suppose I must congratulate you." Laura only stood there, with her eyes fixed, without answering this sally, and Selina went on, with another change of tone: And pray if he was there, what is there so monstrous? Hasn't it happened that he is in London when I am there? Why is.

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