studio of Perugino. And as they walk along
they sing. There are songs set apart from
time immemorial for the sad occasion of a
Greek's departure from Greece; and others
are made on the spot, out of the excited
feelings of the moment. There is a story told
of a youth—the youngest of three brothers—
but little beloved by his mother: the poor
fellow endeavoured in vain to win some
scanty sprinkling of the affection that was
showered on his elder brothers; and at last
he determined to become an exile from that
home which was no home to him. So he set
forth, accompanied by his young companions,
his brothers, his sisters, and as a matter of
form, by his mother herself. Four or five
miles from his birthplace there was a small
gorge through which the narrow road wound.
This was the determined point of separation;
and here, among the rocky echoes, were sung
the most doleful farewell songs. Suddenly
the young man mounted upon a rock, and
improvised a poem on the sufferings he had
experienced from the indifference of his
mother. He cried to her to bless him once,
before he went away for ever, with something
of the wild entreaty of Esau when he adjured
Isaac to "Bless me, also, O my father!"
Nor was this strange poetic appeal in vain:
"the mother, with a sudden Eastern change of
feeling, could hardly wait until the improvised
song was finished (I have sometimes felt as
impatient over an improvised sermon), before
she in her turn sang her repentance; and
promised, if he would remain at home, that
she would be a better mother for the future."
M. Fauriel says no more. I should not
have been sorry to have had the old fairytale
ending affixed to this true story, "And
they lived together very happily for ever
after."

Now let us hear about the marriage-
songs. Life seems like an opera amongst the
modern Greeks; all emotions, all events,
require the relief of singing. But a marriage
is a singing time among human beings as
well as birds. Among the Greeks the youth
of both sexes are kept apart, and do not meet
excepting on the occasion of some public
feast, when fhe young Greek makes choice of
his bride, and asks her parents for their
consent. If they give it, all is arranged for the
betrothal; but the young people are not
allowed to see each other again until that
event. There are parts of Greece where the
young man is allowed to declare his passion
himself to the object of it. Not in words,
however, does he breathe his tender suit.
He tries to meet with her in some path, or
other place in which he may throw her an
apple or a flower. If the former missile be
chosen, one can only hope that the young
lady is apt at catching, as a blow from a
moderately hard apple is rather too violent a
token of love. After this apple or flower
throwing, his only chance of meeting with
his love is at the fountain to which all Greek
maidens go to draw water, as Rebekah went,
of old, to the well.

The ceremony of betrothal is very simple.
On an appointed evening, the relations of
the lovers meet together in the presence
of a priest, either at the house of the father
of the future husband, or at that of the
parents of the bride elect. After the
marriage contract is signed, two young girls
bring in the affianced maiden—who is covered
all over with a veil—and present her to her
lover, who takes her by the hand, and leads
her up to the priest. They exchange rings
before him, and he gives them his blessing.
The bride then retires; but all the rest of the
company remain, and spend the day in merry-
making and drinking the health of the young
couple. The interval between the betrothal
and the marriage may be but a few hours:
it may be months, and it may be years; but,
whatever the length of time, the lovers must
never meet again until the wedding day
comes. Three or four days before that time,
the father and mother of the bride send round
their notes of invitation; each of which is
accompanied by the present of a bottle of
wine. The answers come in with even more
substantial accompaniments. Those who
have great pleasure in accepting, send a
present with their reply; the most frequent
is a ram or lamb dressed up with ribands
and flowers; but the poorest send their
quarter of mutton as their contribution to the
wedding-feast.

The eve of the marriage, or rather during
the night, the friends on each side go to deck
out the bride and groom for the approaching
ceremony. The bridegroom is shaved by his
paranymph or groom's man, in a very grave
and dignified manner, in the presence of all
the young ladies invited. Fancy the attitude
of the bridegroom, anxious and motionless
under the hands of his unpractised barber,
his nose held lightly up between a finger and
thumb, while a crowd of young girls look
gravely on at the graceful operation! The
bride is decked, for her part, by her young
companions; who dress her in white, and
cover her all over with a long veil made of
the finest stuff. Early the next morning the
young man and all his friends come forth,
like a bridegroom out of his chamber, to seek
the bride, and carry her off from her father's
house. Then she, in songs as ancient as the
ruins of the old temples that lie around her,
sings her sorrowful farewell to the father
who has cared for her and protected her
hitherto; to the mother who has borne her,
and cherished her; to the companions of her
maidenhood; to her early home; to the
fountain whence she daily fetched water; to
the trees which shaded her childish play; and
every now and then she gives way to natural
tears: then, according to immemorial usage,
the paranymph turns to the glad yet sympathetic procession, and says in a sentence which
has become proverbial on such occasions—