served for, I was quite at a loss in settling to my own satisfaction. It seems improbable that they should have been used for a prison; and being inside of the walls, they can scarcely have been tombs. The notion has long prevailed among the Athenians that they were occupied by the Attic sage whose name they bear, and that he expired within their vaults.

Walking along the Pnyx, which is a ridge much lower than the Museum, I soon found myself on the level platform where the assemblies of the people were held. The ground seems to have been reduced to its present condition by artificial means. Its plan is semicircular; and the base, which appears to be straight, is in reality curved inwardly. Whether this was accidental, or answered the purpose of improving the acoustic effect, I am not informed. The arrangement, however, seems eminently to favor the conveyance of sound over a large area. The perpendicular face of rock, some ten feet in height, bounding the Pnyx on this side, is interrupted in the centre by a square stand projecting some feet out of the line. By means of steps on one side of it, I mounted to the top, and stood upon the bema, or rostrum, whence Demosthenes delivered some of his most stirring orations. On the crowded space before him were collected thousands of auditors who hung upon his words. Since no part of the area was occupied by seats, the number within reach of his voice must have been immense. Every voter could be accommodated with ease, for it contained no less than twelve thousand yards;* and six thousand hearers are mentioned as having been present on some particular occasions. The lower side of the platform is supported by a wall of stone drawn from the vicinity. These attracted my attention from their unusual size. One that I measured was twelve feet in length and six or seven high; its breadth I was unable to ascertain. The bulk of these blocks entitles them almost to be ranked among the Cyclopean constructions of the earlier period of Greek history.

Between the Pnyx and the Acropolis is a still lower hill, one of the same system of elevations, and I directed my steps thither as I returned to the consulate. It is a mere rock, rough and precipitous on three sides, especially toward the *Wordsworth's Athens and Attica, p. 69.

THE HILL OF MARS.

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Acropolis, where a large mass has broken off and fallen. This is the Areopagus, or Hill of Mars. Nothing in its external appearance would convey the least intimation that here was the seat of the most venerable court of Athens, or indeed of Greece, whose first duty is said to have been to try the god Mars on a charge of murder, while among its last scenes was the noble defence of the Apostle Paul. Here, in full view of the whole city, whose gorgeous temples, the resort of a devout and superstitious multitude, towered above the other buildings: the orator was called upon to defend the introduction of a new and strange religion. Unterrified by the fear of punishment for a crime that four centuries before had cost Socrates his life, St. Paul boldly preached a God, whom they ignorantly worshipped, and the resurrection of the dead, which they laughed to scorn. Of no site in Athens can there be less reason to distrust the identity. It has been proved beyond the shadow of a doubt. And though it be divested of all save these hallowed associations, the Christian can stand on no spot, even in this classic land, that calls up such thrilling recollections. It is well for us, perhaps, that besides some sixteen steps cut in the limestone rock, and a bench near the top, little remains to indicate the precise locality where the renowned court held its sessions. I felt that we might be induced to pay too much reverence to the scene of so great a transaction, and forget the truths the Apostle meant to inculcate. Strangely enough, the Greeks have built no chapel on the illustrious rock, though, until lately, there were the ruins of a small church of St. Dionysius the Areopagite at a short distance below.

I had now made most of the circuit of the Acropolis, and I brought my walk to a conclusion by strolling along the northern side until I entered a narrow lane, and found my way home.

To complete our survey of the antiquities of Athens, we must explore those that lie concealed in the modern town. Almost directly in front of the post-office is a singular octagonal building. The common name it goes by is the Temple of Eolus, or of the Winds, from the winged figures upon the sides. Each is the impersonation of the wind blowing from

that particular point of the compass. Boreas looks northward down the principal thoroughfare of the city, toward the market-place. Zephyrus meets the mild western breezes that blow from the plains of Eleusis. A curious triton formerly adorned the top like a weather-cock, and the wand in his hand pointed out the wind that prevailed. This interesting monument, which was in reality a Horologium, or "clock-tower," built by a single public-spirited Athenian, Andronicus Cyrrhestes, served to keep time for the whole town. On the sides are to be traced as easily as ever the lines of the old sun-dials. A few years since new rods of iron were inserted as gnomons at each of the corners; and now the passer may read the time from the face of the marble, chiseled two thousand years ago. For cloudy weather a water-clock, the only time-piece the ancients were acquainted with, was placed for inspection in the interior of the edifice. This was, in fact, its principal design. An aqueduct, a few arches of which still remain, conducted the water of a small spring into a reservoir just behind the tower, and so supplied the clock. At present the Horologium stands in a hole full fifteen or twenty feet deep. This furnishes a pretty accurate standard to determine the accumulation of soil during the past twenty centuries. What treasures of art lie concealed beneath the rubbish it is now impossible to determine. The modern town has grown over it again since the revolution, and there are slender grounds for expecting that any thorough system of exploration will be undertaken in our day.

Walking down into the market-place our attention is immediately drawn to the gray stone walls overtopping the wooden shanties, and contrasting singularly with their weakness. penetrated through the crowd of peddlers and buyers, and found myself within the inclosure of the Stoa of Hadrian. It was a great quadrangle, 376 feet long and 252 broad, with a stout wall of marble surrounding it. Externally the face was merely supported at intervals by massive buttresses, except on the west, where a stately row of Corinthian columns still shows that this was the principal entrance. Around the court on the inside ran a broad portico; and the court itself was perhaps cultivated as a garden. It contained a library

GATE OF THE NEW MARKET.

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and other buildings. But what a metamorphosis has the entire structure undergone! The whole interior, for I know not how long, has been used as a bazar. The quiet retreat of philosophers is the most noisy part of the city; the beautiful paintings of the walls are defaced; the costly marbles have disappeared. Where the library stood is seen an unsightly clock-tower erected by Lord Elgin himself, as a sort of indemnification, I presume, for his pilfering from the Parthenon. He has chronicled his own munificence in a long Latin inscription, which I have heard the more educated Greeks read with the greatest indignation. The government for a long time has been talking of procuring a more suitable place for the market, and clearing this whole area. This were a consummation much to be desired. As it was, in hunting out the spot where a few traces of the inner portico were said to remain, I was obliged to make my way through a butcher's shop, and past the heaps of new hides from a slaughter-house, to a place where, looking into a dilapidated hovel, I saw three or four columns supporting an architrave. How much more remains concealed, will only appear when the plan of the government is put into execution.

I left the busy scenes of the market, and a few minutes after found myself standing before a stately portal of four large marble columns of the Doric order. The precise object of this solitary monument is not, at first sight, quite evident; but it has been pretty well settled that it graced the entrance to the New Market, or Agora. This was not the space devoted to the purposes of trade in the palmy days of Athens; for that covered the ground south of the Acropolis and Areopagus. It was here, however, that St. Paul was in the habit of engaging in discussion, alike with the learned and the lowly. I found close by an upright slab of marble, on which were inscribed the prices of various commodities sold in the market, as regulated by an ordinance of the Emperor. One would think that with so strict precautions the hucksters could find few means of cheating their customers; but such does not seem to have been the fact. The maximum prices of many of the articles would furnish a striking contrast with their value in money at the present day,

I wished next to find my way to the Temple of Theseus; and for this purpose followed a westerly direction. Passing through what was once perhaps the most populous portion of the city, I could find but few remains. One of small extent is attributed to the Stoa Pacile, the most famous of all the porticoes of which Athens could boast. A room in it, which I entered through a garden, was formerly used as a chapel; but has now been degraded into a store for all manner of rubbish. Further on there is another and more extensive collection of walls, which, from their construction with alternately wide and narrow layers of stone, are known to have been erected about the Macedonian epoch. In one obscure court I came across a statue of elegant workmanship, representing a Triton. His well-shaped body is terminated by a scaly tail twisted nearly up to his head. The general expression is one of suffering and despair. Hence Pittakes supposed the colossal effigy to have belonged to the monument of Phorbas, whom Erechtheus wished to slay.*

The Theseum, whose serene front soon appeared over the top of the mud walls in the vicinity, stands upon a slight eminence on the very outskirts of Athens toward the west. More perfect outwardly than any other temple extant, it gives a better notion of the imposing character of a Grecian shrine, executed according to the strictest requirements of art. It has undergone little change since the day of its foundation. The columns are intact; their sharp edges occasionally somewhat softened down by the wear of time, and a stray block in their lofty shafts moved slightly from its firm foundation, by the irresistible force of repeated earthquakes. The building was considerably smaller than the Parthenon. There are but six columns on the front and thirteen on the sides. one hundred and four feet scarcely exceeds the Parthenon, and its breadth is but forty-five feet. Its antiquity, however, is greater than that of the shrine of the Acropolis, and dates as far back as 465 B.C. It is said to have been erected to cover the bones of the famous hero Theseus, which had been recently found on the island of Scyrus, and had been brought with superstitious care to this spot. In respect to sculpture, the The*L'Ancienne Athènes, p. 95 (1835).

Its length of width of the