30 JUNE 1894, Page 30

A SPRING DAY IN GREECE.

THERE is nothing in the world so irregular and so incal- culable, as the advent of spring in Greece. Those who wander over sea and land in search of climates perfectly suitable to each phase of the year, often seek it and find it not. Some come in April, and it is still winter ; another year they come in May, and it is already summer. But it is worth while to come while it is still winter, and wait for spring, for spring has golden days.

Spring comes suddenly. Some evening when you are sitting indoors, after a cold day, grumbling at Continental stoves, and declaring that the South is indeed false and fickle, a hint of change is lisped in the air. A quick impulse moves you to open the window, and see whether it is not a little warmer. And when you open the window, you find that spring has come, and while it lasts, Greece is the garden of the Lord. The sun rises cloudlessly, walks all day through "most pellucid air," and sinks into a clear west. Morning by morning a gentle wind blows fresh from the ..Egean Sea, and evening by evening returns from the plains where it has wandered all day, laden with the scent of flowers. On the violet crown of mountains which hold Athens in their hand, the white cistus bursts like foam over a green sea of tender leaf, the brooksides are starred with bee-orchis and meadow- sweet, and all the dells flush crimson with anemones. The orange-leaf falls not, but a soft white mist breaks out among the velvet-green, and the air is filled with a fragrance infinitely fine and sweet. The slopes of Hymettus are loud with bees which are returning with the evening breeze to the villa of the Caesars, " drunken and overbold " with the juices of thyme and stock and cassia shrub. Even the columns of our Lady of the Acropolis, stained golden-red with sun and wind, look less austerely out, for their feet are set in marguerites, white and gold, and a hundred flowering grasses. And you, if you are wise, will go up Pentelicus. The morning dawns cool, but by ten the sun is high, and the goat-bells already sound thin and faint from the upper slopes.

Below on the left, as you look towards Athens, stands the grey monastery with its spring of coldest water, draws from, the "brain of the purple mountain," and its frontal of tall, listless white poplars, whose leaves gleam green beneath the sun, and grey beneath the cloud. The track lies elose to. the lip of the old marble-quarries, in which Pheidias sought and found the Parthenon, column, frieze, and pediment.. To-day maidenhair springs from its sides, and stalactites creep slowly from roof to floor, and rise from floor to roof. A great tawny sheep-dog does his duty by barking at you as- you pass, rousing from his midday sleep a brown-skinned' shepherd-boy, who looks at you gravely and shyly out of big black eyes. Every now and then you may see a large tortoise- taking a slow walk, after the manner of an elderly gentleman, and long green lizards scuttle across the path. Then as you, strike the ridge which leads to the top, each step reveals miles- of new horizon. To the east, Euboaa sleeps in a robe of blue, and one great snow-peaked mountain keeps watch for her. The Enripus winds snakewise between her and the main- land, and to the north, on the horizon, Parnassus stands sen- tinel over Delphi. But best of all is that little semi-circular- bay, a blue bite out of the land, which seems to be almost at your feet. The land slopes gently down in corn-fields and• olive-groves to a strip of white sand, and near the beach stands a small mound, and underneath that mound sleep the- Atheidans who died at Marathon.

There is a time for everything under the sun. There cer- tainly appears to be plenty of time for introspection, for the- dissection of oneself and of others, for the contemplation of unlovely details ; but there is a time for receptiveness, for laying oneself open to sweet natural influences. Man may or may not be vile, but when Nature is wholly beautiful, it is- good to mix with the elements, and when spring is strong on. the side of Pentelicus and Parnes, it is good to open one's- heart, without thought or scrutinising reflection, and take- her in. Afterwards, if we will, we may take our scalpel, again, and see what she has done for us ; but if we have Tet- her do her best, we shall not be so anxious to examine the result. Feeling is often better than knowledge, and we have sometimes to murder a thing before we can dissect, and afterwards perhaps we are sorry it is dead.

Spring may last a week or a fortnight or even a month- Sometimes Greece reflects its image again in autumn, when. the vineyards are yielding their store, and the purple grapes, are to be had for the asking, but it is not the same thing.

The air is hot and tired, and cannot but remember the days when the sky was brass, and the land white- dust. We have to wait till the full circle of the year brings.

back the golden days. But it is worth while waiting a year- for golden days like these.