the men exhibit, like a fancy-ball get-up; while
it was very odd to read shop-fronts and
newspapers in the old character associated with
lexicons and "first schools," or to puzzle
over such words as "Modiste" and "Don
Quixotic" in the type sacred to Æschylus and
Thucydides.

The ruins are glorious, and owing, perhaps, to
the exceptional circumstances of the time, the
buzzing crowd of cicerones, custodes, gardiens,
&c., had dispersed, and we were free to wander.
From the green slope of Mars' Hill, whence
Paul looked on the exquisite "temple made
with hands," on to the less pure but more
gorgeous colonnade in the plain, on whose summit
stands that grim protest against the luxury
of this world, the narrow dungeon of a Christian
monk. The Arch of Hadrian, which has been
hoisted up to afford free passage to the swallows
of Somerset House; and the monument of
Lysicratis, carefully placed out of harm's way among
the chimney-pots of Howell and James; the
race-course, with its seats covered with velvet
turf; and the hawthorn brake, which served for
the tiring-room of Nick Bottom and Co.; are all
delightful. Even the huge mosaic pavement in
the palace-gardens, whose vast size and coarse
design tell so eloquently of slave-labour and of
the degradation of taste which unfailingly
follows, is not without interest. We drove to
Salamis, and paid our respects to the representative
of England, who received us in what has
been called the noblest presence-chamber of
Britain, an admiral's cabin. Here lay the Lords
of Ocean, with a quantity of wretched coasting-
craft, which their orders compelled them to keep
in durance vile. But next morning, a startling
change was visible. As I took my usual morning
walk to the top of a small hill from which
the top-gallants of the squadron could be seen,
an unusual display of bunting caught my eye.
The telescope showed me, to my unmitigated
amazement, blue and white checks, the national
flag of Greece, waving at every mast-head. What
might this be? For several days past the
newspapers had teemed with leading articles horribly
stuffed with epithets of classic warfare, which
might be condensed into this formula: Wanted,
a Themistocles to destroy the fleet of the modern
Xerxes, now lying off Salamis. Had they found
the man. I remembered a sergeant who was in
quarantine with us, and whose dignity, when he
had put on his Sunday uniform, was something
overpowering. Marmaduke Magog, in far remote
days, alone came near it. Could he have gone
down and surrounded the fleet by night? It was
scarcely probable, but in preparation for the
worst, it seemed best to secure a good breakfast,
so I returned to the table d'hôte, where the few
British subjects then in Athens were gathered.
After breakfast, the landlord ushered in with
some ceremony two representative men of Hellas,
an Athenian and a Spartan. The former, brilliant
in a green velvet jacket and snowy-white kilt—
I forget how many yards of calico there were in
it, but the figure took my breath away—was a
royal aide-de-camp. The descendant of Lycurgus,
whom we already knew, was as unlike an ideal
Lacedæmonian as can well be imagined. A short,
black-haired, lively little man in European evening
dress, shiny boots, and primrose kid gloves
complete, who had often tried to persuade me
to visit his country, expatiating on the delicious
oranges and plump partridges which not unpleasantly
have displaced the black broth of his
ancestors. His mission this morning was to
translate a speech delivered with all appearance
of courtesy by his comrade. This day was the
anniversary of the Independence of Greece.
Painful circumstances, unnecessary to be more
than alluded to, had caused temporary estrangement
between the court of Greece and an ally
for whom, nevertheless, she entertained, &c. &c.
It had come to his majesty's knowledge that
certain English gentlemen were at present in
Athens, and it would give his majesty pleasure
if said gentlemen would attend the solemn service
shortly to commence in the cathedral.

Here was a turn of Dame Fortune's wheel!
After being pushed on one side by excited
P. and O. passengers, charitably fed by a
German steward, poked at with long sticks by
sanitary officers, to be now spoken at by a royal
envoy and recognised as a political feature!
We returned suitable replies, and in a few
minutes "we, the people of England," under three
umbrellas (for a drizzling rain had set in),
proceeded towards the cathedral. Chairs were
placed for us immediately in front of the royal
seats, and in a few minutes the procession
entered. I never, except in private theatricals,
saw so very small a court. Some half-dozen
officers, our friend of the green jacket by far
the most conspicuous; about as many footmen;
the king, his unmistakable German face looking
impassively over a jacket, which would be
blue velvet were it not all silver lace; the
queen, red-faced from continuous out-door
exercise, and two ladies of honour, all in national
costume. One of these latter, by the way, made
up for many deficiencies, being surpassingly
lovely. The acclamations of the people were on
a strictly proportionate scale. One voice called
out once, Zeto V——. All else was silence. The
performance—I mean the service—was awfully
long, and begging his majesty's pardon, he
should not have yawned so very much if he did
not wish to be imitated. At length it was over.
The court retired: the faithful Abdiel again
uttered his loyal cry; I was thrice blest in being
able to shelter with my umbrella the beauteous
maid of honour, as she had to scud rapidly under
the cathedral eaves to reach her carriage, and
we returned to the hotel, passing under a
triumphal arch where was inscribed "Long live
the three Allied Powers," one of which three
was at that moment hoisting the flag of Greece
and blockading her ports.

At dinner one of the people of England, a
young Irish Catholic, who has been carrying on
some quiet and not specially recognised
communication with the court, and who always amuses
us by the tone of mysterious tenderness with
which he speaks of the queen, recounts the