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for brass and flint arrow-heads, have scraped away some earth from its sides. Unfortunately for these antiquarians, the latter sort has been found in abundance at places where no battle is known to have been fought with the Persians; for to those barbarians these primitive wedge-like missiles have been attributed. Geologists pronounce them to be of nature's own fashioning.

Standing upon the top of this monument of ancient glory, I could easily distinguish the positions most probably occupied by the belligerent parties twenty-three centuries ago. The Medes and Persians under Datis landed from their boats along the neighboring beach. The Athenians and Platæans, under Miltiades and his nine associates, had encamped the previous night in the neighborhood, at Marathon, a village occupying the site of the hamlet where we lunched. Thence they had descended to meet the Persians, and stationed themselves in such a manner as to have either wing protected by a high hill. The centre of their line was weak, either purposely or from necessity; while the extremities were made very strong. When the engagement commenced, the Persians were successful in the centre. But the victorious Athenians from the wings pouring in upon them, as it would appear, after a somewhat disputed combat, put to rout the whole multitude of the barbarians. The greater part ran to the sea, and saved themselves in boats, which they had drawn up on the sand; but many becoming entangled in the swamp, which was on their right, were cut off by the Athenians, or drowned.

Modern writers pretend to correct the numbers of the Persian host, as given by ancient historians. For they calculate that, instead of the half a million or more warriors, that were attributed to Darius by the later Latins and Greeks, the ships that brought them from Asia could not have contained two hundred thousand men. Of these, it is conjectured that not more than 30,000 were actually engaged in the battle, and opposed to 11,000 Greeks. So that, after all, the myriads of the "Great King" dwindle down to what would now be considered rather an insignificant armament for conquering a whole country. The glory of Miltiades would also be reduced to the skill employed in making one of his soldiers more

effective than three of his antagonists. Be this as it may, Herodotus, the only historian who can claim the authority of a contemporary, contents himself with stating the number of the slain at nearly 200 on the side of the Athenians, and at 6400 on that of the Persians.

It was difficult for me to realize that the quiet plain I was looking upon had ever been the scene of so dreadful a conflict, and that here had been decided the fate not of Greece alone, but of all Europe. The quiet fields were occupied only by a few peasants engaged in ploughing. In the distance, to the northwest, could plainly be distinguished the marsh so fatal to the fugitives. It was not now so wet, however, as in the autumn, which was the season of the year when the battle took place.

From the mound we rode to the sea-shore, along which pursuing our way a mile southward, we reached the remains of a Temple of Minerva, which was surnamed Hellotis, just as an Italian church in a similar situation would, at the present day, be dedicated to "Our Lady of the Marsh." All that now remains of it is four or five plain, round columns, a foot in diameter, standing in the midst of a mandra, or sheep-fold, and an altar or pedestal in a neighboring field. An interesting circumstance connected with this temple was the discovery of one of the most ancient authentic pieces of sculpture that have, so far as I know, been found in Greece. It bears the name of the artist, and is thereby known to have been executed in the sixth century before our era. So perfect is every lineament of the face, and every fold of the drapery, that it has been thought worth while to place this large bas-relief in a glass case. It is now in the collection of antiques within the walls of the old Temple of Theseus at Athens, and might easily be mistaken at first sight for a fine slab from Nineveh or Thebes.

The day was by this time far advanced; and having now seen all that is most interesting at Marathon, we turned our faces westward. Instead of retracing our steps to Vrana, we directed them to the present village of Marathona, imbosomed in a small valley some distance to the north. From it a torrent issues and waters the plain. We reached it, after passing

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on our left the marble platform supposed to have been that of a monument erected in honor of Miltiades. There was no distinct road to the village; but our guide's knowledge was reliable enough as to the depth of the stream; and we avoided the bends by crossing alternately from one side of the river to the other. We did not tarry at the few houses, which, by a singular but not uncommon misnomer, have assumed the name of Marathon (whereas that village, doubtless, stood on the site of Vrana), but hurried on, by a difficult and rugged ascent, to reach the path by which we had come that morning. George preceded us, and, on one occasion, had advanced so far that he was hidden from us by a curve of the little gorge. Suddenly there was heard a noise of men apparently wrangling, and then the discharge of a gun, after which all was quiet again. It would have required no great stretch of imagination to fancy an encounter with brigands; for the northern part of Attica is from time to time infested with robbers, and our guide might have fallen a victim. The chances of such a catastrophe, however, were small. Besides, upon going forward, we were reassured by seeing George dismounted, and engaged in peaceable conversation with a couple of peasants. The sole sufferer was a large vulture, which, being gorged with food, could not fly off with the rest of the flock to which it belonged. It must have measured five feet or more from the tip of one wing to that of the other. The peasant who killed it, after cutting off the two wings, for the sake of the feathers, threw the rest away, and then accompanied our party most of the way to Cephisia.

Before we entered the carriage again on our return, we went to see a pretty water-fall of the principal branch of the famous Cephissus, where the shelving rocks, extending round in crescent shape, form a sort of cave. In summer time this "Grotto of the Nymphs" must be a delightful resort for the Athenians. And Cephisia, the only country place in the vicinity which abounds in water, was formerly a still more favorite site for the villas of the rich than it is now. There remained ample time for us, after seeing all the curiosities of the place, to return to Athens by daylight.

N

SUNIUM.

Sunium occupies the extreme southerly point of Attica, at the distance of thirty or forty miles from Athens. It has been customary to devote to the excursion the greater part of three days. The construction of new roads, however, and better arrangements have reduced the time required to a single day. We rose before dawn on the last morning of spring, and left Athens in a carriage, intending to ride as far as there existed any respectable road, which, fortunately for us, was the case for a longer distance than in any other direction from the capital of Greece.

If the reader will but cast his eye over a good map of this triangular peninsula of Attica, he will at once notice its singular conformation. A lofty ridge, bounding it on the north, forms the base of the triangle, while the sea-shore describes the other sides. From this central trunk, which bears in one place the name of Citharon, and in another that of Parnes, two lesser branches run down to the Saronic Gulf, dividing Attica into three unequal plains. Of these, the plain of Athens is the largest, and is intermediate between that of Eleusis on the west, and Mesogea toward the southeast. Mount Hymettus appears from Athens to cut off all communication with this small inland plain; but the road to Sunium finds an entrance into it through a wide gap at its upper end.

The country until we reached the village of Keratia, where the carriage road terminates, possessed little interest. Arid and stony, it is incredible that under any circumstances the soil should have supported a large population. Not a stream of running water, at this season of the year, greets the traveler's eye; scarcely a single tree throws its grateful shade upon the road-side. The parsimony of nature has in some degree been counterbalanced by the beneficence of man. Fountains have been constructed, and wells dug, at short intervals along the road. I asked a native how it happened that these wells should have been made at so great expense in lonely tracts, far from any human habitation. "Why," replied the Greek, "the erection of a fountain is regarded as a psychicon, or meritorious deed to aid in the salvation of one's soul. It is the same

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feeling that induces men to found churches or chapels, in fulfillment of vows made in sickness or danger." I could not but admire the benevolence thus displayed, notwithstanding its erroneous motive. Beggars in the streets of Athens (who are almost always either cripples or blind) are supported, on a similar principle, by the contributions of the passers-by. It is sometimes even ludicrous to see a representative, or some other well-known politician, slip a lepton (not quite two mills) into the hand of a poor man, and accompany it with the notice that it is "for his soul's sake." One is almost tempted to think that the coin is an indication of the value he sets upon the object in question.

We reached Keratia in about four hours from the time of leaving Athens, and waited in a large khan, which served at once as a country inn and store, until our horses were made ready. The men of the village being mostly busy at their work, we sat comparatively undisturbed by their impertinent curiosity. The remainder of our ride was the more difficult part. At first, the path led over a tolerably level district; but soon we came to the hills, which formerly went by the name of Mount Laurium, and which reach the very margin of the sea. The rock formerly abounded with veins of a lead ore containing a large proportion of silver. But this commodity, which enriched the Athenian commonwealth in its palmy days, had already grown scarce in later times. The ore was worked even a second time, in order to extract every particle of the precious metal. And now, it is said, not a trace of the silver can be found. The activity of the miners in days bygone is evinced by huge heaps of scoria, or dross, that surround the old shafts, and are of such size as to excite much surprise.*

We presently reached the sea-shore at a small bay, whence, for more than an hour, our path led us over rocks bordering

*It is certainly an interesting fact that the silver drawn from these mines was equally distributed among all the citizens, until Themistocles persuaded the people to apply this branch of their revenue to the building of ships for the Persian war. The silver extracted from the piece of stone you pick up on Mount Laurium may perchance have been used in equipping the fleet that served at Salamis.