DRAWN BY W. H. DRAKE

them before they gave up their muddy contents. But we toiled on until we reached another tomb immediately beside the one which had contained all the gold. Morakis, when he gave himself a moment's rest, would burst out in wonderment, and would exhort the other workmen to take note how these gentlemen could work. It was really comical, with the curious clothes they had on, to see the form of the learned Professor Richardson picking away vigorously; while another spectacled student filled the baskets which were handed from one to another. But the work, at all events, kept us warm. When, however, we got down five or six feet, to the narrow compass of the grave, we could not all be occupied at once, and then it was hard work to keep warm. Yet our greatest fear was the advancing night. When, toward dusk, we had succeeded in lifting up two of the covering stones, we found that there was at least two hours' work remaining before we could clear out the grave itself, and begin the delicate work of freeing the objects it might contain from the surrounding soil without breaking. On the other hand, we could not possibly leave the grave open at that stage, as it was likely that others would do what we had left undone, and that we never should see the treasures which we hoped it might contain. And thus, chilled to the marrow, at about six o'clock, as there was no more work for them to do, most of our party returned to Eretria, leaving three men to finish the work by lantern-light.

"Don't mock either the great Bohemian or me," I said; "this is serious." But the spirit was contagious. All the students came and enthusiastically offered to go out and dig. All our workmen refused to stir except three led by the faithful Morakis. Our cook prepared a famous breakfast, and, wrapped up in whatever clothing we had, with red blankets from the beds, the canvas bags in which the beds were packed, and with picks and shovels and baskets, we all trotted off through the village in the rain, singing American college songs. The shutters opened, and the people looked out at the crazy foreigners, for mad they certainly thought us. We waded through the mud, and reached the tomb; and now began some really hard work. The picks stuck in the wet earth, which was as heavy as lead, and each lift of the spade as we threw soil into the baskets was an athletic feat. And then we had to pass these baskets full of black, heavy, muddy earth from hand to hand, and to wrestle with

Crouching within the hole, we watched with bated breath while Morakis was cautiously peeling away the earth from the inside of the stone coffin. One of the blocks of the covering stones had been broken, and when, after a few small fragments of gold had led us to expect a find similar to the one we had made in the first grave, no object of value or interest was forthcoming, the doubt crossed our mind whether this tomb had not been rifled in antiquity. The crime of robbing a grave was, in

the days of ancient Greece, severely punished. After nearly three hours' work, the grave was thoroughly examined and found to contain naught of interest.

But the next day was indeed a bright day, and one which was to compensate us in every respect for our previous hardships.

I remembered that in these family inclosures the principal graves are not in the center, but at the angles. Accordingly this morning we began to dig at the other angle, and at the end of the day we had come upon another sarcophagus.

This grave was evidently the earliest and most important one, and the one for which the inclosure had been built; for a portion of it was immediately under the wall of the inclosure itself, and accordingly in the person here buried we should expect to find the man for whom all this structure had been built. Soon again there was the glimmer of gold; and carefully clearing away the earth, I began to pull at the portion that became visible, which at once appeared to me thicker and more solid than a leaf, expecting, however, to find a leaf similar to the one that filled the grave we first found. But the leaf would not give, and so I had to cut away the earth further in, and still further, until at last I was able to extract a broad diadem, or fillet, of pure gold, such as was worn round the brow. We now pushed on with renewed eagerness and caution, and there came another broader band of gold with repoussé pattern, and then still another, and another, until we found six; and finally, reaching the point where the head lay, and where a small fragment of the skull was still preserved, there came another, a seventh band of gold, with leaves like a wreath attached to it, which crowned the person here interred. There were several smaller vases and bronzes, and a knife; and then came two styli. Now, with these two complete styli and fragments of a third, we also found a metal pen shaped very much like our own, the only specimen hitherto found in Greece proper, though there have been found boxes which contained these pens, and inkstands. It was now evident that the person here interred, for whom the inclosure was made, was not only a man of great distinction, but a man of letters.

We had found several interesting terra-cotta figures of mythological or ideal character in this grave, but at the head we finally discovered a terra-cotta, distinctly a portrait, of the style of portrait-statue well known from the fourth century B. C., of a man draped in his cloak, with both hands folded at the side. Now, this attitude corresponds to the description we have by a certain Christodoros of the statue of Aristotle which he saw at Constantinople. On VOL. XLIV.-56-57.

the next day we disclosed the grave next to this one toward the interior, built at a different angle, and, from the various stones that were used in its structure, distinctly of a later date. At the foot of this grave, carefully placed on the center of a large slab which had before served some architectural purpose, was a smaller marble slab upon which in clear-cut letters was the inscription [B]IOTH [A]PIETOTEAOY (Biote Aristotelou), namely, Biote, the daughter of Aristotle. The only male name which we found connected with the tombs, and referring to the family which had made this inclosure its last resting-place, was the name of Aristotle.

The facts will speak for themselves. In 323 B. C., Aristotle, a man of considerable wealth, the tutor and friend of Alexander the Great, was compelled to fly from Athens and to take refuge at Chalcis, where he certainly had property, and whence either the family of his father or mother sprang. In the following year he died at Chalcis, not, as some biographical account has it, by drowning in the Euripus, or by his own hand, but of a complaint of the stomach. Nor can we give credence to the late and untrustworthy tradition which tells us that his remains were subsequently taken to his native town of Stagira. From the nature of his will it is evident that at this time his chief property and home were at Chalcis and not at Stagira. Here at Eretria, which we know to have been a seat of philosophy, the fields of which join those of Chalcis, and which, as we have evidence to show, was a special place for burial, we find this tomb, undoubtedly that of a distinguished family; we find the chief grave within this family inclosure to contain the remains of a very distinguished man, as is evident from the gold crowns laid there, probably by his friends and admirers, at his funeral; we find this distinguished man to be a man of letters, as is evident from the styli and the pen; and we find within the family inclosure the name of Aristotle. For the present I will not lay too much stress upon the correspondence between the terra-cotta statuette and the description of the statue of Aristotle, nor will I dwell at length upon all the evidence which has since come to me. They confirm still further the attribution made so probable by the discoverers themselves. The treatment of this subject requires the critical sifting of so many passages and special points of archæology and scholarship, that I must leave this to be dealt with in the official report of the School of Athens. But I must say now that some of the doubts I have on a previous occasion expressed have become weakened. These chief doubts were based upon the fact that Chalcis, where Aristotle died, and Eretria, where this

grave is situated, were two distinct places. I have since found good classical authorities which tell us that Chalcis was at one time the name for the whole of Euboea, and could thus be used for the district of Eretria. And from the will of Aristotle, handed down to us in Diogenes Laertius, from which I shall quote a passage, it becomes evident that Aristotle owned a large estate at Chalcis, which was not immediately in the city, but was in the country. This will is confirmed by Athenæus, and the portion which interests us runs thus:

May all be well [the will begins], but if any thing happen, then Aristotle has made the following disposition of his affairs: That Antipater shall be general and universal executor. And until Nikanor marries my daughter, I appoint Aristomedes, Timarchos, Hipparchos, Dioteles, and Theophrastos, if the latter will consent and accept the charge, to be guardians of my children and of Herpyllis, and the trustees of all the property I leave behind me. And I desire them, when my daughter is old enough, to give her in marriage to Nikanor; but if anything should happen to the girl before she has any children, lute disposal of my son, and of all other things, in the full confidence that he will arrange them in a manner worthy of me and of himself. Let him also be the guardian of my daughter and of my son Nikomachos, to act as he pleases with respect to them, as if he were their father or brother. But if anything should happen to Nikanor, which may God forbid, either before he receives my daughter in marriage or after he is married to her, or before he has any children by her, then any arrangements which he may make by will shall stand. But if Theophrastos should in this case choose to take my daughter in marriage, then he is to stand exactly in the same position as Nikanor. And if not, then I will that my trustees, conferring with Antipater concerning both the boy and the girl, shall arrange everything respecting them as they shall think fit; and that my trustees and Nikanor, remembering both me and Herpyllis, and how well she has behaved to me, shall take care that, if she be inclined to take a husband, one be found for her who shall not be unworthy of us, and that they give her, in addition to all that has already been given her, a talent of silver and three maidservants, if she pleases to accept them, and the handmaiden whom she has now, and Pyrrhaios [probably a slave]. And if she pleases to dwell at Chalcis, she shall have the guest-house which joins the garden; but if she likes to dwell at Stagira, then she shall have my father's house. And whichever of these houses she elects to take, I will that my executors do furnish it with all ne

then I will that Nikanor should have the abso

cessary furniture in such manner as shall seem to them and to Herpyllis sufficient.

Then follow legacies to other people and to slaves, injunctions as to what is to be done with statues which he dedicates, etc. And then he says:

And wherever they wish to make my grave, there, taking the bones of Pythias, let them also bury them.

And as regards the second doubt which I at from being a unique name, so that the inscripone time felt, namely, that Aristotle was far tion found in this tomb might refer to some other Aristotle, I can only say that it would have to be shown that such another Aristotle of a literary tendency was worthy of such signal honors as those conferred upon the person here interred, and that this Aristotle, unrelated to the great Aristotle, was connected with Euboa. It seems to me more likely that the other names of Aristotle, which are to be found on an Eretrian inscription of the second century B. C., are connected with this family of the philosopher, which certainly had its estates in this district; and I would finally state that in this very inscription of Eretria I have found two names which directly correspond to the names of the family of the philosopher Aristotle. These names are Nikomachos and Prokles. For we know from Sextus Empiricus, supplemented and confirmed by other authors, that Nikomachos, the son of Aristotle, died without issue, and that his daughter Pythias married three times. First she married Ńikanor, who is mentioned in the will, by whom she had no issue; her second marriage was with Prokles, who was descended from the Lacedemonian king Demaratos, and by whom she had two sons, Prokles and Demaratos; and finally she married Metrodoros, a doctor, by whom she had one son, Aristotle, which later Aristotle is also mentioned in the will of Theophrastos. This younger Aristotle lived in the first half of the third century B. C. The date of the inscription, "Biote, the daughter of Aristotle," which we found, has been fixed as of the third century B. C., and thus Biote would be the daughter of Aristotle's grandson, who bore the same name as his grandfather.

We do not claim that the attribution of this grave to the great philosopher is proved beyond a doubt; but for the present we are justified in naming this grave, excavated at Eretria by the American School of Athens, the Tomb of Aristotle.

Charles Waldstein.

strove to appear very free and knowing; a Frenchman of the type that she had encountered on the train a fortnight ago; and a figure which, in spite of its novel and startling guise, she identified as the marquis who had been so serviceable at Delle. He now wore a flannel blouse and spiked shoes; on his back he carried a long coil of rope, and an ice-ax that threw off dazzlingly such sunbeams as struck their way down through the foliage overhead. His mien was very free, daring, noble, and careless, and many passers-by looked back on him with an awesome interest. Then another man, who had busied himself in fastening up the dangling end of the rope, turned his face around, and our friends recognized in him the passing guest who had honored Neuchâtel for a day or more, and had then flitted away with a carelessly civil hope that they might some time meet again. Fin-de-Siècle smiled brilliantly, and took a step toward them; but the Duchess, who had seen Aurelia West before Aurelia had seen her, laid her hand upon his arm, and detained him for a moment with a whispered phrase or two. What she said did not dim his smile, and he advanced upon our little party with effusion. He was delighted to meet them, and so soon, too. The Duchess had just told him that she was already acquainted with Mees West-charming, indeed. And she would be more than delighted to meet Mees West's friends. Ah, the Chatelaine of La Trinité,—the Duchesse des Guenilles,-the Marquis of Tempo-Rubato, whom Mees West had also met already,- Lord Arthur Such-a-one, and so on, and so on.

The Duchess had straightened up her lounging Englishmen in a trice, and she met our two young ladies with her most careful manner. Her voice fell to a murmur. Her deportment became quiet almost to dejection. And when she looked up into the Governor's face with large, wistful eyes, and paid her dexterous little tribute to his worth and celebrity (she had never heard of him before, and knew but little of him except his name, even now), the flattered old gentleman had never felt more soothed or pleased. And when she turned on Aurelia West with a remorseful little smile, naïvely poking holes in the gravel, off and on, with the tip of her over-vivid parasol, and murmured that her dear mees must have found her sadly cold and unsympathetic the other day, but that really such a long, hard journey made her something quite other than herself, the Governor felt that so much refinement, sympathy, and courtesy must be properly met. He recalled certain ornate phrases from his youth, the use of which might form a suitable acknowledgment; but these old-fashioned gallantries fell curiously on the ears of the sophisticated

young men around him. They looked at one another slyly, and smiled; so the Governor's precise words I shall not give. You might smile, too.

The Duchess had no remarks to offer to the Chatelaine, and the Chatelaine had no replies to make to the Duchess. The Duchess did not once look into the Chatelaine's face, though she made one or two rather pitiful attempts to do so, knowing the eyes of her own circle to be upon her; but the Chatelaine regarded the Duchess, and all her friends as well, with a high and steady serenity, and without any sense of inconvenience. This, too, in face of the fact that she was apt to be more or less impressed by splendor, and was almost entirely at the mercy of any strong manifestation of modernity, a characteristic of which she herself had so slight a share. Indeed, it was the complete modernness of Aurelia West that had first interested the Chatelaine in this young Westerner, had afterward drawn her toward her, and, generally, had laid this poor young mountain maid under a burden of awesome deference from which she was only now emerging. But the Duchess, though fully as modern as Aurelia West, and much more splendid, did not embarrass the Chatelaine in the least; and this young girl from the Valais, as she quietly scanned the eyes that could not raise themselves to hers, was (more than anything else) congratulating herself that she could meet the great world as personified in this brilliant figure on its own ground, and yet not feel at any disadvantage.

Tempo-Rubato was the only one of the Duchess's followers who accompanied the Governor and his charges on board the steamer. He was committed, as it seemed, to some indefinite deed of daring-do at the far end of the lake, and he appeared disposed to appreciate, in the brief time that intervened before his impending struggle with Nature in her own stronghold, the amenities of civilized society. He seated himself aft beside the Chatelaine with the air of a connoisseur who had examined almost everything that civilized society had to offer, but who was now impartially open to any new impression that chanced his way. He would indulgently forego his absinthe for a little sip of spring-water; and Aurelia West, whose enjoyment of the Pilatus and the Bürgenstock and the rest the good Governor had made more complete by a glass of lemonade and a plate of biscuits, had her enjoyment increased by noticing that the Chatelaine's talk to Tempo-Rubato was in Italian, and that he was unmistakably flattered by it. She taxed her friend for having concealed this graceful accomplishment, but the Chatelaine did not seem to regard the command of conversational Italian