To appease his master's displeasure, the treacherous fellow acknowledged that Geta had been seen near the walls, and that his boat had been lying at the Triton's Cove.

In consequence of this information, men were instantly ordered in pursuit, with orders to lie in wait for the fugitives, if they could not be overtaken before morning. When Geta left Creuesa's Grotto, he was seized before he reached the house of Clinias.

Milza knew nothing of these proceedings, but had remained anxiously waiting till the day was half spent. Then she learned that Alcibiades had claimed Eudora and Geta as his slaves, by virtue of a debt due to him from Phidias, for a large quantity of ivory; and notwithstanding the efforts of Clinias in their favour, the Court of Forty Four, in the borough of Alcibiades, decided that he had a right to retain them, until the debt was paid, or until the heir appeared to show cause why it should not be paid. "The gods have blessed Clinias with abundant wealth," said Eudora; "Did he offer nothing to save the innocent?"

"Dear lady," replied Milza, "Alcibiades demands such an immense sum for the ivory, that he says he might as well undertake to build the wall of Hipparchus, as to pay it. But I have not told you the most cruel part of the story. Geta has been tied to a ladder, and shockingly whipped, to make him tell where you were concealed. He said he would not do it, if he died. I believe they had the will to kill him; but one of the young slaves, whose modesty Alcibiades had insulted, was resolved to make complaint to the magistrates, and demand another master. She helped Geta to escape: they have both taken refuge in the Temple of Theseus. Geta dared trust no one but me to carry a message to Clinias. I told him he supped with Pericles to-night; and he would not suffer me to go there, lest Alcibiades should be among the guests."

"I am glad he gave you that advice," said Eudora; "for though Pericles might be willing to serve me, for Philothea's sake, I fear if he once learned the secret, it would soon be in Aspasia's keeping."

"And that would be all the same as telling Alcibiades himself," rejoined Milza. "But I must tell you that I did not know of poor Geta's sufferings until many hours after they happened. Since he went to Salamis in search of you, I have not seen him until late this evening. He is afraid to leave the altar, lest he should fall into the hands of his enemies; and that is the reason he sent me to bring you food. He expects to be a slave again; but having been abused by Alcibiades, he claims the privilege of the law to be transferred to another master."

Eudora wept bitterly, to think she had no power to rescue her faithful attendant from a condition he dreaded worse than death.

Milza endeavoured, in her own artless way, to soothe the distress her words had excited. "In all Geta's troubles, he thinks more of you than he does of himself," said she. "He bade me convey you to the house of a wise woman from Thessalia, who lives near the Sacred Gate; for he says she can tell us what it is best to do. She has learned of magicians in foreign lands. They say she can compound potions that will turn hatred into love; and that the power of her enchantments is so great, she can draw the moon down from the sky."

"Nevertheless, I shall not seek her counsel," replied the maiden; "for I have heard a better oracle."

When she had given an account of the vision in the cave, the peasant asked, in a low and trembling voice, "Did it not make you afraid?"

"Not in the least," answered Eudora; "and therefore I am doubtful whether it were a vision or a dream. I spoke to Philothea just as I used to do; without remembering that she had died. She left me more composed and happy than I have been for many days. Even if it were a vision, I do not marvel that the spirit of one so pure and peaceful should be less terrific than the ghost of Medea or Clytemnestra."

"And the light shone all at once!" exclaimed Milza, eagerly. "Trust to it, dear lady—trust to it. A sudden brightness hath ever been a happy omen."

Two baskets, filled with Copaic eels and anchovies, had been deposited near the mouth of the cavern; and with the first blush of morning, the fugitives offered prayers to Phoebus and Pan, and went forth with the baskets on their heads, as if they sought the market. Eudora, in her haste, would have stepped across the springs that bubbled from the rocks; but Milza held her back, saying, "Did you never hear that these brooks are Creuesa's tears? When the unhappy daughter of Erectheus left her infant in this cave to perish, she wept as she departed; and Phoebus, her immortal lover, changed her tears to rills. For this reason, the water has ever been salt to the taste. It is a bad omen to wet the foot in these springs."

Thus warned, Eudora turned aside, and took a more circuitous path.

It happened, fortunately, that the residence of Artaphernes stood behind the temple of Asclepius, at a short distance from Creuesa's Grotto; and they felt assured that no one would think of searching for them within the dwelling of the Persian stranger. They arrived at the gate without question or hindrance; but found it fastened. To their anxious minds, the time they were obliged to wait seemed like an age; but at last the gate was opened, and they preferred a humble request to see Artaphernes. Eudora, being weary of her load, stooped to place the basket of fish on a bench, and her veil accidentally dropped. The porter touched her under the chin, and said, with a rude laugh, "Do you suppose, my pretty dolphin, that Artaphernes buys his own dinner?"

Eudora's eyes flashed fire at this familiarity; but checking her natural impetuosity, she replied, "It was not concerning the fish that I wished to speak to your master. We have business of importance."

The servant gave a significant glance, more insulting than his former freedom. "Oh, yes, business of importance, no doubt," said he; "but do you suppose, my little Nereid, that the servant of the Great King is himself a vender of fish, that he should leave his couch at an hour so early as this?"

Eudora slipped a ring from her finger, and putting it in his hand, said, in a confidential tone, "I am not a fish-woman. I am here in disguise. Go to your master, and conjure him, if he ever had a daughter that he loved, to hear the petition of an orphan, who is in great distress."

The man's deportment immediately changed; and as he walked away, he muttered to himself, "She don't look nor speak like one brought up at the gates; that's certain."

Eudora and Milza remained in the court for a long time, but with far less impatience than they had waited at the gate. At length the servant returned, saying his master was now ready to see them. Eudora followed, in extreme agitation, with her veil folded closely about her; and when they were ushered into the presence of Artaphernes, the embarrassment of her situation deprived her of the power of utterance. With much kindness of voice and manner, the venerable stranger said: "My servant told me that one of you was an orphan, and had somewhat to ask of me."

Eudora replied: "O Persian stranger, I am indeed a lonely orphan, in the power of mine enemies; and I have been warned by a vision to come hither for assistance."

Something in her words, or voice, seemed to excite surprise, mingled with deeper feelings; and the old man's countenance grew more troubled, as she continued: "Perhaps you may recollect a maiden that sung at Aspasia's house, to whom you afterwards sent a veil of shining texture?"

"Ah, yes," he replied, with a deep sigh: "I do recollect it. They told me she was Eudora, the daughter of Phidias."

"I am Eudora, the adopted daughter of Phidias," rejoined the maiden. "My benefactor is dead, and I am friendless."

"Who were your parents?" inquired the Persian.

"I never knew them," she replied. "I was stolen from the Ionian coast by Greek pirates. I was a mere infant when Phidias bought me."

In a voice almost suffocated with emotion, Artaphernes asked, "Were you then named Eudora?"

The maiden's heart began to flutter with a new and strange hope, as she replied, "No one knew my name. In my childish prattle, I called myself Baby Minta."

The old man started from his seat—his colour went and came—and every joint trembled. He seemed to make a strong effort to check some sudden impulse. After collecting himself for a moment, he said, "Maiden, you have the voice of one I dearly loved; and it has stirred the deepest fountains of my heart. I pray you, let me see your countenance."

As Eudora threw off the veil, her long glossy hair fell profusely over her neck and shoulders, and her beautiful face was flushed with eager expectation.

The venerable Persian gazed at her for an instant, and then clasped her to his bosom. The tears fell fast, as he exclaimed, "Artaminta! My daughter! My daughter! Image of thy blessed mother! I have sought for thee throughout the world, and at last I believed thee dead. My only child! My long-lost, my precious one! May the blessing of Oromasdes be upon thee."



CHAPTER XIX.

Whate'er thou givest, generous let it be. EURIPIDES

When it was rumoured that Artaphernes had ransomed Eudora and Geta, by offering the entire sum demanded for the ivory, many a jest circulated in the agoras, at the expense of the old man who had given such an enormous price for a handsome slave; but when it became known, that he had, in some wonderful and mysterious manner, discovered a long-lost daughter, the tide of public feeling was changed.

Alcibiades at once remitted his claim, which in fact never had any foundation in justice; he having accepted two statues in payment for the ivory, previous to the death of Phidias. He likewise formally asked Eudora in marriage; humbly apologizing for the outrage he had committed, and urging the vehemence of his love as an extenuation of the fault.

Artaphernes had power to dispose of his daughter without even making any inquiry concerning the state of her affections; but the circumstances of his past life induced him to forbear the exercise of his power.

"My dear child," said he, "it was my own misfortune to suffer by an ill-assorted marriage. In early youth, my parents united me with Artaynta, a Persian lady, whose affections had been secretly bestowed upon a near kinsman. Her parents knew of this fact, but mine were ignorant of it. It ended in wretchedness and disgrace. To avoid the awful consequences of guilt, she and her lover eloped to some distant land, where I never attempted to follow them.

Some time after, the Great King was graciously pleased to appoint me Governor of the sea-coast in Asia Minor. I removed to Ephesus, where I saw and loved your blessed mother, the beautiful Antiope, daughter of Diophanes, priest of Zeus. I saw her accidentally at a fountain, and watched her unobserved, while she bathed the feet of her little sister. Though younger than myself, she reciprocated the love she had inspired. Her father consented to our union; and for a few years I enjoyed as great happiness as Oromasdes ever bestows on mortals. You were our only child; named Artaminta, in remembrance of my mother. You were scarcely two years old, when you and your nurse suddenly disappeared. As several other women and children were lost at the same time, we supposed that you were stolen by pirates. All efforts to ascertain your fate proved utterly fruitless. As moon after moon passed away, bringing no tidings of our lost treasure, Antiope grew more and more hopeless. She was a gentle, tender-hearted being, that complained little and suffered much. At last, she died broken-hearted."

After remaining in silent thoughtfulness for a few moments, he added: "Of my two sons by Artaynta, one died in childhood; the other was killed in battle, before I came to Athens. I had never ceased my exertions to discover you; but after I became childless, it was the cherished object of existence. Some information received from Phoenician sailors led to the conclusion that I owed my misfortune to Greek pirates; and when the Great King informed me that he had need of services in Athens, I cherfully undertook the mission."

"Having suffered severely in my own marriage, I would not willingly endanger your happiness by any unreasonable exercise of parental authority. Alcibiades is handsome, rich, and of high rank. How do you regard his proposal of marriage?"

The colour mounted high in Eudora's cheek, and she answered hastily, "As easily could I consent to be the wife of Tereus, after his brutal outrage on the helpless Philomela. I have nothing but contempt to bestow on the man who persecuted me when I was friendless, and flatters me when I have wealthy friends."

Artaphernes replied, "I knew not how far you might consider violent love an excuse for base proceedings; but I rejoice to see that you have pride becoming your noble birth. For another reason, it gives me happiness to find you ill-disposed toward this match; for duty will soon call me to Persia, and having just recovered you in a manner so miraculous, it would be a grievous sacrifice to relinquish you so soon. But am I so fortunate as to find you willing to return with me? Are there no strong ties that bind your heart to Athens?"

Perceiving that Eudora blushed deeply, he added, in an inquiring tone, "Clinias told me to-day, that Phidias wished to unite you with that gifted artist, his nephew Pandaenus?"

The maiden replied, "I have many reasons to be grateful to Pandaenus; and it was painful to refuse compliance with the wishes of my benefactor; but if Phidias had commanded me to obey him in this instance, my happiness would have been sacrificed. Of all countries in the world, there is none I so much wish to visit as Persia. Of that you may rest assured, my father."

The old man looked upon her affectionately, and his eyes filled with tears, as he exclaimed, "Oromasdes be praised, that I am once more permitted to hear that welcome sound! No music is so pleasant to my ears as that word—father. Zoroaster tells us that children are a bridge joining this earth to a heavenly paradise, filled with fresh springs and blooming gardens. Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father! But, my daughter, why is it that the commands of Phidias would have made you unhappy? Speak frankly, Artaminta; lest hereafter there should be occasion to mourn that we misunderstood each other."

Eudora then told all the particulars of her attachment to Philaemon, and her brief infatuation with regard to Alcibiades. Artaphernes evinced no displeasure at the disclosure; but spoke of Philaemon with great respect and affection. He dwelt earnestly upon the mischievous effects of such free customs as Aspasia sought to introduce, and warmly eulogized the strictness and complete seclusion of Persian education. When Eudora expressed fears that she might never be able to regain Philaemon's love, he gazed on her beautiful countenance with fond admiration, and smiled incredulously as he turned away.

The proposal of Alcibiades was civilly declined; the promised sum paid to his faithless steward, and the necklace, given by Phidias, redeemed.

Hylax had been forcibly carried to Salamis with his young mistress, lest his sagacity should lead to a discovery of her prison. When Eudora escaped from the island, she had reluctantly left him in her apartment, in order to avoid the danger that might arise from any untimely noise; but as soon as her own safety was secured, her first thoughts were for the recovery of this favourite animal, the early gift of Philaemon. The little captive had pined and moaned continually, during their brief separation; and when he returned, it seemed as if his boisterous joy could not sufficiently manifest itself in gambols and caresses.

When Artaphernes was convinced that he had really found his long-lost child, the impulse of gratitude led to very early inquiries for Pandaenus. The artist had not yet re-appeared; and all Athens was filled with conjectures concerning his fate. Eudora still suspected that Alcibiades had secreted him, for the same reason that he had claimed Geta as a slave; for it was sufficiently obvious that he had desired, as far as possible, to deprive her of all assistance and protection.

The event proved her suspicions well founded. On the fourth day after her escape from Salamis, Pandaenus came to congratulate Artaphernes, and half in anger, half in laughter, told the particulars of his story. He had been seized as he returned home at night, and had been forcibly conveyed to the mansion of Eurysaces, where he was kept a close prisoner, with the promise of being released whenever he finished a picture, which Alcibiades had long desired to obtain. This was a representation of Europa, just entering the ocean on the back of the beautiful bull, which she and her unsuspecting companions had crowned with garlands.

At first, the artist resisted, and swore by Phoebus Apollo that he would not be thus forced into the service of any man; but an unexpected circumstance changed his resolution.

There was a long, airy gallery, in which he was allowed to take exercise any hour of the day. In some places, an open-work partition, richly and curiously wrought by the skilful hand of Callicrates, separated this gallery from the outer balustrade of the building. During his walks, Pandaenus often heard sounds of violent grief from the other side of the screen. Curiosity induced him to listen, and inquire the cause. A sad, sweet voice answered, "I am Cleonica, daughter of a noble Spartan. Taken captive in war, and sold to Alcibiades, I weep for my dishonoured lot; for much I fear it will bring the gray hairs of my mother to an untimely grave."

This interview led to another, and another; and though the mode of communication was imperfect, the artist was enabled to perceive that the captive maiden was a tall, queenly figure, with a rich profusion of sunny hair, indicating a fair and fresh complexion. The result was a promise to paint the desired picture, provided he might have the Spartan slave as a recompense.

Alcibiades, equally solicitous to obtain the painting, and to prolong the seclusion of Pandaenus, and being then eager in another pursuit, readily consented to the terms proposed. After Eudora's sudden change of fortune, being somewhat ashamed of the publicity of his conduct, and desirous not to lose entirely the good opinion of Artaphernes, he gave the artist his liberty, simply requiring the fulfilment of his promise.

"And what are your intentions with regard to this fair captive?" inquired the Persian, with a significant smile.

With some degree of embarrassment, Pandaenus answered, "I came to ask your protection; and that Eudora might for the present consider her as a sister, until I can restore her to her family."

"It shall be so," replied Artaphernes; "but this is a very small part of the debt I owe the nephew of Phidias. Should you hereafter have a favour to ask of Cleonica's noble family, poverty shall be no obstruction to your wishes. I have already taken measures to purchase for you a large estate in Elis, and to remit yearly revenues, which will I trust be equal to your wishes. I have another favour to ask, in addition to the many claims you already have upon me. Among the magnificent pictures that adorn the Poecile, I have not observed the sculptor of your gods. I pray you exert your utmost skill in a painting of Phidias crowned by the Muses; that I may place it on those walls, a public monument of my gratitude to that illustrious man."

"Of his statues and drawings I have purchased all that can be bought in Athens. The weeping Panthea, covering the body of Abradates with her mantle, is destined for my royal and munificent master. By the kindness of Pericles, I have obtained for myself the beautiful group, representing my precious little Artaminta caressing the kid, in that graceful attitude which first attracted the attention of her benefactor. For the munificent Eleans, I have reserved the Graceful Three, which your countrymen have named the presiding deities over benevolent actions. All the other statues and drawings of your illustrious kinsman are at your disposal. Nay, do not thank me, young man. Mine is still the debt, and my heart will be ever grateful."

The exertions of Clinias, although they proved unavailing, were gratefully acknowledged by the present of a large silver bowl, on which the skilful artificer, Mys, had represented, with exquisite delicacy, the infant Dionysus watched by the nymphs of Naxos.

In the midst of this generosity, the services of Geta and Milza were not forgotten. The bribe given to the steward was doubled in the payment, and an offer made to establish them in any part of Greece or Persia, where they wished to reside.

A decided preference was given to Elis, as the only place where they could be secure from the ravages of war. A noble farm, in the neighbourhood of Proclus, was accordingly purchased for them, well stocked with herds and furnished with all agricultural and household conveniences. Geta, having thus become an owner of the soil, dropped the brief name by which he had been known in slavery, and assumed the more sonorous appellation of Philophidias.

Dione, old as she was, overcame her fear of perils by land and sea, and resolved to follow her young mistress into Persia.

Before a new moon had begun its course, Pandaenus fulfilled his intention of returning to Olympia, in company with the Lacedaemonian ambassador and his train. Cleonica, attended by Geta and Milza, travelled under the same protection. Artaphernes sent to Proclus four noble horses and a Bactrian camel, together with seven minae as a portion for Zoila. For Pterilaues, likewise, was a sum of money sufficient to maintain him ten years in Athens, that he might gratify his ardent desire to become the disciple of Plato. Eudora sent her little playmate a living peacock, which proved even more acceptable than her flock of marble sheep with their painted shepherd. To Melissa was sent a long affectionate epistle, with the dying bequest of Philothea, and many a valuable token of Eudora's gratitude.

Although a brilliant future was opening before her, the maiden's heart was very sad, when she bade a last farewell to the honest and faithful attendants, who had been with her through so many changing scenes, and aided her in the hour of her utmost need. The next day after their departure was spent by the Persian in the worship of Mithras, and prayers to Oromasdes. Eudora, in remembrance of her vision, offered thanksgiving and sacrifice to Phoebus and Pan; and implored the deities of ocean to protect the Phoenician galley, in which they were about to depart from Athens.

These ceremonies being performed, Artaphernes and his weeping daughter visited the studio of Myron, who, in compliance with their orders, had just finished the design of a beautiful monument to Paralus and Philothea, on which were represented two doves sleeping upon garlands.

For the last time, Eudora poured oblations of milk and honey, and placed fragrant flowers, with ringlets of her hair, upon the sepulchre of her gentle friend; then, with many tears, she bade a long farewell to scenes rendered sacred by the remembrance of their mutual love.



CHAPTER XX.

Next arose A well-towered city, by seven golden gates Inclosed, that fitted to their lintels hung. Then burst forth Aloud the marriage song; and far and wide Long splendors flashed from many a quivering torch. HESIOD

When the galley arrived at the opulent city of Tyre, the noble Persian and his retinue joined a caravan of Phoenician merchants bound to Ecbatana, honoured at that season of the year with the residence of the royal family. Eudora travelled in a cedar carriage drawn by camels. The latticed windows were richly gilded, and hung with crimson curtains, which her father ordered to be closed at the slightest indication of approaching travellers. Dione, with six more youthful attendants, accompanied her, and exerted all their powers to make the time pass pleasantly; but all their stories of romantic love, of heroes mortal and immortal, combined with the charms of music, could not prevent her from feeling that the journey was exceedingly long and wearisome.

She recollected how her lively spirit had sometimes rebelled against the restraints imposed on Grecian women, and sighed to think of all she had heard concerning the far more rigid customs of Persia. Expressions of fatigue sometimes escaped her; and her indulgent parent consented that she should ride in the chariot with him, enveloped in a long, thick veil, that descended to her feet, with two small openings of net-work for the eyes.

As they passed through Persia, he pointed out to her the sacred groves, inhabited by the Magii: the entrance of the cave where Zoroaster penned his divine precepts; and the mountain on whose summit he was wont to hold midnight communication with the heavenly bodies.

Eudora remarked that she nowhere observed temples or altars; objects to which her eye had always been accustomed, and which imparted such a sacred and peculiar beauty to Grecian scenery.

Artaphernes replied, "It is because these things are contrary to the spirit of Persian theology. Zoroaster taught us that the temple of Oromasdes was infinite space—his altar, the air, the earth, and the heavens."

When the travellers arrived within sight of Ecbatana, the setting sun poured upon the noble city a flood of dazzling light. It was girdled by seven walls of seven different colours; one rising above the other, in all the hues of the rainbow. From the centre of the innermost, arose the light, graceful towers of the royal palace, glittering with gold. The city was surrounded by fertile, spacious plains, bounded on one side by Mount Orontes, and on the other by a stately forest, amid whose lofty trees might here and there be seen the magnificent villas of Persian nobles.

Eudora's heart beat violently, when her father pointed to the residence of Megabyzus, and told her that the gilded balls on its pinnacles could be discovered from their own dwelling; but maiden shame prevented her from inquiring whether Philaemon was still the instructor of his sons.

The morning after his arrival, Artaphernes had a private audience with his royal master. This conference lasted so long, that many of the courtiers supposed his mission in Greece related to matters of more political importance than the purchase of pictures and statues; and this conjecture was afterward confirmed by the favours lavished upon him.

It was soon known throughout the precincts of the court that the favourite noble had returned from Athens, bringing with him his long-lost daughter. The very next day, as Eudora walked round the terraces of her father's princely mansion, she saw the royal carriages approach, followed by a long train of attendants, remarkable for age and ugliness, and preceded by an armed guard, calling aloud to all men to retire before their presence, on pain of death. In obedience to these commands, Artaphernes immediately withdrew to his own apartment, closed the shutters, and there remained till the royal retinue departed.

The visiters consisted of Amestris, the mother of Artaxerxes; Arsinoee of Damascus, his favourite mistress; and Parysatis, his daughter; with their innumerable slaves. They examined Eudora with more than childish curiosity; pulled every article of her dress, to ascertain its colour and its texture; teased to see all her jewels; wanted to know the name of everything in Greek; requested her to sing Greek songs; were impatient to learn Ionian dances; conjured her to paint a black streak from the eyes to the ears; and were particularly anxious to ascertain what cosmetic the Grecian ladies used to stain the tips of their fingers.

When all these important matters were settled, by means of an interpreter, they began to discuss the merits of Grecian ladies; and loudly expressed their horror at the idea of appearing before brothers unveiled, and at the still grosser indelicacy of sometimes allowing the face to be seen by a betrothed lover. Then followed a repetition of all the gossip of the harem; particularly, a fresh piece of scandal concerning Apollonides of Cos, and their royal kinswoman, Amytis, the wife of Megabyzus. Eudora turned away to conceal her blushes; for the indelicacy of their language was such as seldom met the ear of a Grecian maiden.

The Queen mother was eloquent in praise of a young Lesbian girl, whom Artaphernes had bought to attend upon his daughter. This was equivalent to asking for the slave; and the captive herself evinced no unwillingness to join the royal household; it having been foretold by an oracle that she would one day be the mother of kings. Amestris accepted the beautiful Greek, with many thanks, casting a triumphant glance at Arsinoee and Parysatis, who lowered their brows, as if each had reasons of her own for being displeased with the arrangement.

The royal guests gave and received a variety of gifts; consisting principally of jewels, embroidered mantles, veils, tufts of peacock feathers with ivory handles, parrots, and golden boxes filled with roseate powder for the fingers, and black paint for the eyebrows. At length they departed, and Eudora's attendants showered perfumes on them as they went.

Eudora recalled to mind the pure and sublime discourse she had so often enjoyed with Philothea, and sighed as she compared it with this specimen of intercourse with high-born Persian ladies.

When the sun was setting, she again walked upon the terrace; and, forgetful of the customs of the country, threw back her veil, that she might enjoy more perfectly the beauty of the landscape. She stood thoughtfully gazing at the distant pinnacles, which marked the residence of Megabyzus, when the barking of Hylax attracted her attention, and looking into the garden, she perceived a richly dressed young man, with his eyes fixed earnestly upon her. She drew her veil hastily, and retired within the dwelling, indulging the secret hope that none of her attendants had witnessed an action, which Artaphernes would deem so imprudent.

On the following morning commenced the celebrated festival called, 'The Salutation of Mithras;' during which, forty days were set apart for thanksgiving and sacrifice. The procession formed long before the rising of the sun. First appeared a long train of the most distinguished Magii from all parts of the empire, led by their chief in scarlet robes, carrying the sacred fire upon a silver furnace. Next appeared an empty chariot consecrated to Oromasdes, decorated with garlands, and drawn by white steeds harnessed with gold. This was followed by a magnificent large horse, his forehead flaming with gems, in honour of Mithras. Then came the Band of Immortals, and the royal kindred, their Median vests blazing with embroidery and gold. Artaxerxes rode in an ivory chariot, richly inlaid with precious stones. He was followed by a long line of nobles, riding on camels splendidly caparisoned; and their countless attendants closed the train. This gorgeous retinue slowly ascended Mount Orontes. When they arrived upon its summit, the chief of the Magii assumed his tiara interwoven with myrtle, and hailed the first beams of the rising sun with sacrifice. Then each of the Magii in turns sung orisons to Oromasdes, by whose eternal power the radiant Mithras had been sent to gladden the earth, and preserve the principle of life. Finally, they all joined in one universal chorus, while king, princes, and nobles, prostrated themselves, and adored the Fountain of Light.

At that solemn moment, a tiger leaped from an adjoining thicket, and sprung toward the king. But ere the astonished courtiers had time to breathe, a javelin from some unknown hand passed through the ferocious animal, and laid him lifeless in the dust.

Eudora had watched the procession from the house-top; and at this moment she thought she perceived hurried and confused movements, of which her attendants could give no explanation.

The splendid concourse returned toward the palace in the same order that it had ascended the mountain. But next to the royal chariot there now appeared a young man on a noble steed, with a golden chain about his neck, and two heralds by his side, who ever and anon blew their trumpets, and proclaimed, "This is Philaemon of Athens, whom the king delighteth to honour?"

Eudora understood the proclamation imperfectly; but afar off, she recognized the person of her lover. As they passed the house, she saw Hylax running to and fro on the top of the wall, barking, and jumping, and wagging his tail, as if he too were conscious of the vicinity of some familiar friend. The dog evidently arrested Philaemon's attention; for he observed him closely, and long continued to look back and watch his movements.

A tide of sweet and bitter recollections oppressed the maiden's heart; a deadly paleness overspread her cheeks; a suffocating feeling choked her voice; and had it not been for a sudden gush of tears, she would have fallen.

When her father returned, he informed her that the life of Artaxerxes had been saved by the promptitude and boldness of Philaemon, who happened to perceive the tiger sooner than any other person at the festival. He added, "I saw Philaemon after the rescue, but we had brief opportunity to discourse together. I think his secluded habits have prevented him from hearing that I found a daughter in Athens. He told me he intended soon to return to his native country, and promised to be my guest for a few days before he departed. Furthermore, my child, the Great King, in the fulness of his regal bounty, last night sent a messenger to demand you in marriage for his son Xerxes."

He watched her countenance, as he spoke; but seemed doubtful how to understand the fluctuating colour. Still keeping his scrutinizing gaze fixed upon her, he continued, "Artaminta, this is an honour not to be lightly rejected; to be princess of Persia now, and hereafter perhaps its queen."

In some confusion, the maiden answered, "Perhaps the prince may not approve his father's choice."

"No, Artaminta; the prince has chosen for himself. He sent his sister to obtain a view of my newly discovered daughter; and he himself saw you, as you stood on the terrace unveiled."

In an agitated voice, Eudora asked, "And must I be compelled to obey the commands of the king?"

"Unless it should be his gracious pleasure to dispense with obedience," replied Artaphernes. "I and all my household are his servants. I pray Oromasdes that you may never have greater troubles than the fear of becoming a princess."

"But you forget, my dear father, that Parysatis told me her brother Xerxes was effeminate and capricious, and had a new idol with every change of the moon. Some fairer face would soon find favour in his sight; and I should perhaps be shut up with hundreds of forgotten favourites, in the old harem, among silly women and ugly slaves."

Her father answered, in an excited tone, "Artaminta, if you had been brought up with more becoming seclusion, like those silly Persian women, you would perhaps have known, better than you now seem to do, that a woman's whole duty is submission."

Eudora had never heard him speak so harshly. She perceived that his parental ambition was roused, and that her indifference to the royal proposal displeased him. The tears fell fast, as she replied, "Dear father, I will obey you, even if you ask me to sacrifice my life, at the command of the king."

Her tears touched the feelings of the kind old man. He embraced her affectionately, saying, "Do not weep, daughter of my beloved Antiope. It would indeed gratify my heart to see you Queen of Persia; but you shall not be made wretched, if my interest with the Great King can prevent it. All men praise his justice and moderation; and he has pledged his royal word to grant anything I ask, in recompense for services rendered in Greece. The man who has just saved his life can no doubt obtain any favour. But reflect upon it well, my daughter. Xerxes has no son; and should you give birth to a boy, no new favourite could exclude you from the throne. Perhaps Philaemon was silent from other causes than ignorance of your arrival in Persia; and if this be the case, you may repent a too hasty rejection of princely love."

Eudora blushed like crimson, and appeared deeply pained by this suggestion; but she made no answer. Artaphernes departed, promising to seek a private audience with the king; and she saw him no more that night. When she laid her head upon the pillow, a mind troubled with many anxious thoughts for a long time prevented repose; and when she did sink to sleep, it was with a confused medley of ideas, in which the remembrance of Philaemon's love was mixed up with floating visions of regal grandeur, and proud thoughts of a triumphant marriage, now placed within her power, should he indeed prove as unforgiving and indifferent, as her father had suggested.

In her sleep, she saw Philothea; but a swift and turbid stream appeared to roll between them; and her friend said, in melancholy tones, "You have left me, Eudora; and I cannot come to you, now. Whence are these dark and restless waters, which separate our souls?"

Then a variety of strange scenes rapidly succeeded each other—all cheerless, perturbed, and chaotic. At last, she seemed to be standing under the old grape-vine, that shaded the dwelling of Anaxagoras, and Philaemon crowned her with a wreath of myrtle. In the morning, soon after she had risen from her couch, Artaphernes came to her apartment, and mildly asked if she still wished to decline the royal alliance. He evinced no displeasure when she answered in the affirmative; but quietly replied, "It may be that you have chosen a wise part, my child; for true it is, that safety and contentment rarely take up their abode with princes. But now go and adorn yourself with your richest apparel; for the Great King requires me to present you at the palace, before the hour of noon. Let your Greek costume be laid aside; for I would not have my daughter appear like a foreigner, in the presence of her king."

With a palpitating heart, Eudora resigned herself into the hands of her Persian tire-women, who so loaded her with embroidery and gems, that she could scarcely support their weight.

She was conveyed to the palace in a cedar carriage, carefully screened from observation. Her father rode by her side, and a numerous train of attendants followed. Through gates of burnished brass, they entered a small court with a tesselated pavement of black and white marble. Thence they passed into a long apartment, with walls of black marble, and cornices heavily gilded. The marble was so highly polished, that Eudora saw the light of her jewels everywhere reflected like sunbeams. Surprised by the multiplied images of herself and attendants, she did not at first perceive, through the net-work of her veil, that a young man stood leaning against the wall, with his arms folded. This well-remembered attitude attracted her attention, and she scarcely needed a glance to assure her it was Philaemon.

It being contrary to Persian etiquette to speak without license within hearing of the royal apartments, the Athenian merely smiled, and bowed gracefully to Artaphernes; but an audible sigh escaped him, as he glanced at the Greek attendants. Eudora hastily turned away her head, when he looked toward her; but her heart throbbed so violently that every fold of her veil trembled. They continued thus in each other's presence many minutes; one in a state of perfect unconsciousness, the other suffering an intensity of feeling, that seemed like the condensed excitement of years. At last a herald came to say it was now the pleasure of the Great King to receive them in the private court, opening into the royal gardens.

The pavement of this court was of porphyry inlaid with costly marbles, in various hieroglyphics. The side connected with the palace was adorned with carved open-work, richly painted and gilded, and with jasper tablets, alternately surmounted by a golden ram and a winged lion; one the royal ensign of Persia, the other emblematic of the Assyrian empire conquered by Cyrus. The throne was placed in the centre, under a canopy of crimson, yellow, and blue silk, tastefully intermingled and embroidered with silver and gold. Above this was an image of the sun, with rays so brilliant, that it dazzled the eyes of those who looked upon it.

The monarch seemed scarcely beyond the middle age, with long flowing hair, and a countenance mild and dignified. On his right hand stood Xerxes—on his left, Darius and Sogdianus; and around him were a numerous band of younger sons; all wearing white robes, with jewelled vests of Tyrian purple.

As they entered, the active buzzing of female voices was heard behind the gilded open-work of the wall; but this was speedily silenced by a signal from the herald. Artaphernes prostrated himself, till his forehead touched the pavement; Eudora copied his example; but Philaemon merely bowed low, after the manner of the Athenians. Artaxerxes bade them arise, and said, in a stern tone, "Artaphernes, has thy daughter prepared herself to obey our royal mandate? Or is she still contemptuous of our kingly bounty?"

Eudora trembled; and her father again prostrated himself, as he replied: "O great and benignant king! mayest thou live forever. May Oromandes bless thee with a prosperous reign, and forever avert from thee the malignant influence of Arimanius. I and my household are among the least of thy servants. May the hand that offends thee be cut off, and cast to unclean dogs."

"Arise, Artaphernes!" said the monarch: "Thy daughter has permission to speak."

Eudora, awed by the despotic power and august presence of Artaxerxes, spoke to her father, in a low and tremulous voice, and reminded him of the royal promise to grant whatever he might ask."

Philaemon turned eagerly, and a sudden flush mantled his cheeks, when he heard the pure Attic dialect, "with its lovely marriage of sweet sounds."

"What does the maiden say?" inquired the king. Artaphernes again paid homage, and answered; "O Light of the World! Look in mercy upon the daughter of thy servant, and grant that her petition may find favour in thy sight. As yet, she hath not gained a ready utterance of the Persian language—honoured and blessed above all languages, in being the messenger of thy thoughts, O king. Therefore she spoke in the Greek tongue, concerning thy gracious promise to grant unto the humblest of thy servants whatsoever he might ask at thy hands."

Then the monarch held forth his golden sceptre, and replied, "Be it unto thee, as I have said. I have sought thy daughter in marriage for Xerxes, prince of the empire. What other boon does Artaphernes ask of the king?"

The Persian approached, and reverently touching the point of the sceptre, answered: "O King of kings! before whom the nations of the earth do tremble. Thy bounty is like the overflowing Nilus, and thy mercy refreshing as dew upon the parched earth. If it be thy pleasure, O King, forgive Artaminta, my daughter, if she begs that the favour of the prince, like the blessed rays of Mithras, may fall upon some fairer damsel. I pray thee have her excused."

Xerxes looked up with an angry frown; but his royal father replied, "The word of the king is sacred; and his decree changeth not. Be it unto thee even as thou wilt."

Then turning to Philaemon, he said: "Athenian stranger, our royal life preserved by thy hand deserves a kingly boon. Since our well beloved son cannot find favour in the eyes of this damsel, we bestow her upon thee. Her father is one of the illustrious Pasargadae, and her ancestors were not unremotely connected with the princes of Media. We have never looked upon her countenance—deeming it wise to copy the prudent example of our cousin Cyrus; but report describes her beautiful as Panthea."

Eudora shrunk from being thus bestowed upon Philaemon; and she would have said this to her father, had he not checked the first half-uttered word by a private signal.

With extreme confusion, the Athenian bowed low, and answered, "Pardon me, O King, and deem me not insensible of thy royal munificence. I pray thee bestow the daughter of the princely Artaphernes upon one more worthy than thy servant."

"Now, by the memory of Cyrus!" exclaimed Artaxerxes, "The king's favours shall this day be likened unto a beggar, whose petitions are rejected at every gate."

Then, turning to his courtiers, he added: "A proud nation are these Greeks! When the plague ravaged all Persia and Media, Hippocrates of Cos refused our entreaties, and scorned our royal bounty; saying he was born to serve his own countrymen, and not foreigners. Themistocles, on whom our mighty father bestowed the revenues of cities, died, rather than fight for him against Athens; and lo! here is a young Athenian, who refuses a maiden sought by the Persian prince, with a dowry richer than Pactolus.

Philaemon bowed himself reverently, and replied: "Deem not, O king, that I am moved by Grecian pride; for well I know that I am all unworthy of this princely alliance. An epistle lately received from Olympia makes it necessary for me to return to Greece; where, O king, I seek a beloved maiden, to whom I was betrothed before my exile."

Eudora had trembled violently, and her convulsive breathing was audible, while Philaemon spoke; but when he uttered the last words, forgetful of the reverence required of those who stood in the presence of majesty, she murmured, "Oh, Philothea!" and sunk into the arms of her father.

The young man started; for now, not only the language, but the tones were familiar to his heart. As the senseless form was carried into the garden, he gazed upon it with an excited and bewildered expression.

Artaxerxes smiled, as he said: "Athenian stranger, the daughter of Artaphernes, lost on the coast of Ionia, was discovered in the household of Phidias, and the Greeks called her Eudora."

Philaemon instantly knelt at the monarch's feet, and said, "Pardon me, O king. I was ignorant of all this. I ——"

He would have explained more fully; but Artaxerxes interrupted him; "We know it all, Athenian stranger—we know it all. You have refused Artaminta, and now we bestow upon you Eudora, with the revenues of Magnesia and Lampsacus for her dowry."

Before the next moon had waned, a magnificent marriage was celebrated in the court of audience, opening into the royal gardens. On a shining throne, in the midst of a stately pavilion, was seated Artaxerxes, surrounded by the princes of the empire. Near the throne stood Philaemon and Eudora. Artaphernes placed the right hand of the bride within the right hand of the bridegroom, saying, "Philaemon of Athens, I bestow upon thee, Artaminta, my daughter, with my estates in Pasagarda, and five thousand darics as her dowry."

The chief of the Magii bore sacred fire on a silver censer, and the bridal couple passed slowly around it three times, bowing reverently to the sacred emblem of Mithras. Then the bridegroom fastened a golden jewel about the bride's neck, and they repeated certain words, promising fidelity to each other. The nuptial hymn was sung by six handsome youths, and as many maidens, clothed in white garments, with a purple edge.

Numerous lamps were lighted in the trees, making the gardens bright as noon. Women belonging to the royal household, and to the most favoured of the nobility, rode through the groves and lawns, in rich pavilions, on the backs of camels and white elephants. As the huge animals were led along, fireworks burst from under their feet, and playing for a moment in the air, with undulating movements, fell in a sparkling shower.

Artaxerxes gave a luxurious feast, which lasted seven days; during which time the Queen entertained her guests with equal splendour, in the apartments of the women.

The Athenian decree against those of foreign parentage had been repealed in favour of young Pericles; but in that country everything was in a troubled and unsettled state; and Artaphernes pleaded hard to have his daughter remain in Persia.

It was therefore decided that the young couple should reside at Pasagarda, situated in a fertile valley, called the Queen's Girdle, because its revenues were appropriated to that costly article of the royal wardrobe. This pleasant city had once been the favourite residence of Cyrus the Great, and a plain obelisk in the royal gardens marked his burial-place. The adjacent promontory of Taoces afforded a convenient harbour for Tyrian merchants, and thus brought in the luxuries of Phoenicia, while it afforded opportunities for literary communication between the East and the West. Here were celebrated schools under the direction of the Magii, frequently visited by learned men from Greece, Ethiopia, and Egypt.

Philaemon devoted himself to the quiet pursuits of literature; and Eudora, happy in her father, husband and children, thankfully acknowledged the blessings of her lot.

Her only daughter, a gentle maiden, with plaintive voice and earnest eyes, bore the beloved name of Philothea.



APPENDIX

Zeus—The Jupiter of the Romans.

Zeus Xenius—Jupiter the Hospitable.

Hera—Juno.

Pallas—Minerva.

Pallas Athena—An ancient appellation of Minerva, from which Athens took its name.

Pallas Parthenia—Pallas the Virgin.

Pallas Promachos—Pallas the Defender.

Phoebus—The Apollo of the Romans; the Sun.

Phoebus Apollo—Phoebus the Destroyer, or the Purifier.

Phoebe—Diana; the Moon.

Artemis—Diana.

Agrotera—Diana the Huntress.

Orthia—Name of Diana among the Spartans.

Poseidon—Neptune.

Aphrodite—Venus.

Urania—The Heavenly Venus. The same name was applied to the Muse of Astronomy.

Eros—Cupid.

Hermes—Mercury.

Demeter—Ceres.

Persephone—Proserpine.

Dionysus—Bacchus.

Pandamator—A name of Vulcan, signifying the All-subduing.

Mnemosyne—Goddess of Memory.

Chloris—Flora.

Asclepius—Esculapius.

Rhamnusia—Name of a statue of Nemesis, goddess of Vengeance; so called because it was in the town of Rhamnus.

Polydeuces—Pollux.

Leto—Latona.

Taraxippus—A deity whose protection was implored at Elis, that no harm might happen to the horses.

Erinnys—The Eumenides, or Furies.

Naiades—Nymphs of Rivers, Springs, and Fountains.

Nereides—Nymphs of the Sea.

Oreades—Nymphs of the Mountains.

Dryades—Nymphs of the Woods.

Oromasdes—Persian name for the Principle of Good.

Mithras—Persian name for the Sun.

Arimanius—Persian name for the Principle of Evil.

Odysseus—Ulysses.

Achilleus-Achilles.

Cordax—An immodest comic dance.

Agora—A Market House.

Prytaneum—The Town House.

Deigma—A place in the Piraeus, corresponding to the modern Exchange.

Clepsydra—A Water-dial.

Cotylae—A measure. Some writers say one third of a quart; others much less.

Arytana—A small cup.

Arabyllus—A vase, wide at bottom and narrow at top.

Archons—Chief Magistrates of Athens.

Prytanes—Magistrates who presided over the Senate.

Phylarchi—Sheriffs.

Epistates—Chairman, or speaker.

Hippodrome—The Horse-course.

Stadium—Thirty-six and a half rods.

Obulus, (plural Oboli)—A small coin, about the value of a penny.

Drachma, (plural Drachmae)—About ten-pence sterling.

Mina, (plural Minae)—Four pounds, three shillings, four pence.

Stater—A gold coin; estimated at about twelve shillings, three pence.

Daric—A Persian gold coin, valued one pound, twelve shillings, three pence.

(All the above coins are estimated very differently by different writers.)

* * * * *

"The midnight procession of the Panathenaea." p. 11.

This festival in honour of Pallas was observed early in the summer, every fifth year, with great pomp.

"The Sacred Peplus." p. 12.

This was a white garment consecrated to Pallas, on which the actions of illustrious men were represented in golden embroidery.

"Festival of Torches." p. 15.

In honour of Prometheus. The prize was bestowed on him who ran the course without extinguishing his torch.

"Six months of seclusion within the walls of the Acropolis, were required of the Canephorae." p. 22.

Maidens of the first families were selected to embroider the sacred peplus. The two principal ones were called Canephorae, because they carried baskets in the Panathenaic procession.

"Fountain of Byblis." p. 33.

This name was derived from a young Ionian, passionately fond of her brother Caunus, for whom she wept till she was changed into a fountain, near Miletus.

"During the festivities of the Dionysia." p. 42.

This festival, in honour of Dionysus, was observed with great splendour. Choragic games are supposed to have been celebrated; in which prizes were given to the successful competitors in music, and the drama.

"The tuneful soul of Marsyas." p. 43.

Marsyas was a celebrated musician of Phrygia, generally considered the inventor of the flute.

"Contest between fighting quails." p. 43.

In Athens, quails were pitched against each other, in the same manner as game-cocks among the moderns.

"Pericles withdrew a rose from the garland." p. 44.

This flower was sacred to Silence. The ancients often suspended it above the table at feasts, to signify that what was said sub rosa was not to be repeated.

"A life-time as long as that conferred upon the namesake of Tithonus." p. 46.

It is related of him, that he asked and obtained the gift of immortality in this world; but unfortunately forgot to ask for youth and vigour.

"Eleusinian Mysteries." p. 47.

Ceremonies at Eleusis, in honour of Demeter, observed with great secrecy. Those who were initiated were supposed to be peculiarly under the protection of the gods.

"Model for the sloping roof of the Odeum." p. 54.

Pericles was usually represented with a helmet, to cover the deformity in his skull. It was jestingly said that the model for the Odeum was from his own head.

"Patriotic song of Callistratus." p. 56.

Translated from the Greek, by the Rt. Rev. G. W. Doane, Bishop of New Jersey.

"While our rosy fillets shed," &c. p. 57.

The 43d Ode of Anacreon. This and other extracts from the same poet are translated by Thomas Moore, Esq.

"All ending in ippus and ippides." p. 61.

Ippus is the Greek for horse. Wealthy Athenians generally belonged to the equestrian order; to which the same ideas of honour were attached as to the knights, or cavaliers, of modern times. Their names often signified some quality of a horse; as Leucippus, a white horse, &c.

"Describing her pompous sacrifices to Demeter." p. 64.

None but Greeks were allowed to enter the temples of this goddess.

"Urania alone confers the beauty-giving zone." p. 69.

Urania was the Heavenly Venus, who presided over the pure sentiment of love, in distinction from Aphrodite, who presided over the sensual passion.

"The Pleiades mourning for their lost sister." p. 74.

One of the stars in the constellation of the Pleiades is said to have disappeared. They were fabled as seven sisters, and one lost her place in the sky by marrying a mortal.

"More happy than the gods is he." p. 75.

Second Ode of Sappho, translated by F. Fawkes, Esq.

"He has clothed the Graces." p. 76.

Socrates was originally a sculptor. He carved a beautiful group of the Graces; said to have been the first that were represented with clothing.

"Too frugal to buy coloured robes." p. 76.

The common people in Athens generally bought white garments, for the economy of having them dyed when they were defaced.

"Every human being has, like Socrates, an attendant spirit." p. 89.

In the Phoedrus of Plato, Socrates is represented as saying, "When I was about to cross the river, a demoniacal and usual sign was given me; and whenever this takes place, it always prohibits me from accomplishing what I was about to do. In the present instance, I seemed to hear a voice, which would not suffer me to depart till I had made an expiation; as if I had offended in some particular a divine nature."

"His statue stands among the Olympionicae." p. 92.

The victors at the Olympic Games had their statues placed in the groves. These statues were called Olympionicae.

"Count me on the summer trees." p. 98.

Part of the 14th Ode of Anacreon.

"As soon would I league myself with Odomantians." p. 112.

The Odomantians of Thrace, near the river Strymon, had the same grasping, avaricious character, attributed to the Jews in modern times.

"Concealed their frauds amid the flames of the Treasury." p. 113.

The Treasury in Athens was burned to the ground, by the Treasurers, who took that method to avoid being called to account for the money they had embezzled.

"That comes of having the Helots among them." p. 116.

The freemen of Sparta were forbidden the exercise of any mechanical or laborious employment. All these duties devolved upon the Helots; while their masters spent their time in dancing, feasting, hunting, and fighting.

"He approves the law forbidding masters to bestow freedom." p. 117.

There was a Spartan law forbidding masters to emancipate their slaves. About two thousand, who were enfranchised by a public decree, for having bravely defended the country during the Peloponessian war, soon after disappeared suddenly, and were supposed to have been secretly murdered.

"Whip them, merely to remind them of bondage." p. 117.

The Helots were originally a brave people; but after they were conquered by the Spartans, no pains were spared to render them servile and degraded. Once a year they publicly received a severe flagellation, merely to remind them that they were slaves. They were never allowed to learn any liberal art, or to sing manly songs. In order to expose them to greater contempt, they were often obliged to perform indecent dances, and to get brutally drunk, that their master's children might learn to despise such uncomely things.

"Things as trifling as the turning of a shell." p. 120.

This was an Athenian proverb, applied to things that were done quickly, or changed easily.

"You must indeed wrestle at Cynosarges." p. 120.

This was a name of Hercules; and because he was illegitimate, it was applied to a place near the Lyceum, where those of half Athenian blood, were wont to exercise in gymnastic sports. Themistocles, being partly of foreign extraction, induced the young Athenian nobles to go there and wrestle with him, that the distinction might be done away.

"Festival Anthesteria." 120.

In honour of Dionysus. The best drinker was rewarded with a golden crown and a cask of wine; and none but Athenians were allowed to enter the theatre.

"Which he inscribed Demos." p. 131.

A phrase signifying the People, or the Democracy.

"Sing their welcome to Ornithae." p. 134,

This name was applied to a wind that blew in the spring, at the time when the birds began to return. It was a Grecian custom for children to go about with garlands from door to door, singing a welcome to the swallows, and receiving trifling presents in return.

"The marble sent by Darius." p. 136.

The Persians were so confident of victory that they brought with them marble to erect a trophy on the plains of Marathon. From this marble Phidias sculptured a statue of Vengeance, which was called Rhamnusia.

"Filled my pillow with fresh laurel leaves." p. 143.

Phoebus was supposed to inspire dreams and prophecy; and the laurel which was sacred to him, was supposed to be endowed with similar properties.

"Like one returned from the cave of Trophonius." p. 147.

In this cave was a celebrated oracle. Those who entered it always returned pale and dejected.

"Psyche bending over the sleeping Eros." p. 150.

This beautiful fable represents the union of the human soul with immortal love. Pysche was warned that separation would be the consequence, if she looked on the countenance of her divine lover. She gazed on his features as he slept; and was left to sorrow alone.

"Even the Diasia are no longer observed." p. 154.

Festivals in honour of Zeus, because he delivered men from misfortunes and dangers.

"When the Muses and the Charities inhabit the same temple." p. 160.

Among the Greeks, the Graces were called the Charities. It was a beautiful idea thus to deify the moral, rather than the outward graces; and to represent innocent and loving nymphs, forever hand in hand, presiding over kind and gentle actions. The Graces were often worshipped in the same temple with the Muses.

"Olive garlands suspended on the doors." p. 185.

This was a common practice during the festival of Thargelia, in honour of Phoebus.

"Gently touched the back part of his head with a small wand." p. 202.

That the phenomena of animal magnetism were not entirely unknown to the ancients, appears by what Clearchus relates of an experiment tried in the presence of Aristotle. He speaks of a man who, by means of "a soul-attracting wand," let the soul out of a sleeping lad, and left the body insensible. When the soul was again led into the body, it related all that had happened to it.

"The laws of the country made it impossible to accompany her beloved husband." p. 206.

No woman was allowed to enter Olympia, during the celebration of the games.

"Deemed he had fallen by the dart of Phoebus Apollo." p. 208.

Those who died very suddenly were supposed to have been struck with the arrows of Phoebus, or his sister.

"Its best pleasures are like the gardens of Adonis." p. 213.

When the annual procession formed to mourn the death of Adonis, earth was placed in shells, and lettuce planted in it, in commemoration of Adonis laid out on a bed of lettuces. These shells were called the Gardens of Adonis. Their freshness soon withered, on account of the shallowness of the earth.

"Rather gain one prize from the Choragus than ten from the Gymnasiarch." p. 219.

The first presided over musical and literary competition; the last over athletic games.

"The statue of Persephone, (that ominous bridal gift.)" p. 226.

While Persephone was gathering flowers, she was seized by Pluto, and carried to the regions of the dead, over which she presided. Hence the hair of the deceased was consecrated to her, and her name invoked at funerals.

"Milza sneezed aloud." p. 227.

This was considered a lucky omen; particularly if the sound came from the direction of the right hand.

"He will trust to Hermes to help him." p. 239.

Hermes was the god of lies and fraud.

"Have I told you all my flames." p. 241.

Part of the 14th ode of Anacreon.

"Threatened to appeal to the magistrates for another master." p. 250.

The Athenian slave laws were much more mild than modern codes. If a servant complained of being abused, his master had no power to retain him.

"Build the wall of Hipparchus." p. 251.

A wall built round the Academia by Hipparchus was so expensive that it became a proverb applied to all costly undertakings.

"One of the slaves whose modesty Alcibiades had insulted." p. 251.

Slaves that were either personally abused, or insulted, took refuge in the Temple of Theseus, and could not be compelled to return to those of whom they complained.

"These brooks are Creuesa's tears." p. 253.

Ion was the son of Phoebus and Creuesa. His mother, to avoid her father's displeasure, concealed the birth of the infant, and hid him in the grotto, which afterwards bore her name. The child was preserved, and brought up in the temple of Phoebus.

"She does not speak like one brought up at the gates." p. 254.

The lower classes of tradesmen were generally placed near the gates.

"One of the illustrious Pasargadae." p. 280.

These were the noblest families in Persia.

* * * * *

In some unimportant matters, I have not adhered strictly to dates; deeming this an allowable freedom in a work so purely romantic, relating to times so ancient.

I am aware that the Christian spirit is sometimes infused into a Grecian form; and in nothing is this more conspicuous than the representation of love as a pure sentiment rather than a gross passion.

Greek names for the deities were used in preference to the Roman, because the latter have become familiarized by common and vulgar use.

If there be errors in the application of Greek names and phrases, my excuse must be an entire want of knowledge in the classic languages. But, like the ignoramus in the Old Drama, I can boast, "Though I speak no Greek, I love the sound on't."

THE END