tender age forbade the journey home. But though the Atlantic
could not be crossed, the Gulf of Aegina might be, and there was the convenient island of Poros (the ancient Calanria, known in history as the place where Demosthenes took poison). This Mr. Horton settled on, and here he saw Greek life, not with the varnish of Western civilisation over it, but in its proper colour. The Greek priest, ex-innkeeper, who chants the service— an exorcism for the "evil eye "—in a magnificent voice, but cannot read a word ; the more or less knavish boatmen, butchers, dealers, &c., cheats but indescribably attractive, these and many other persons and things we read about with unflagging interest. It is difficult to choose a specimen from these delightful persons, more delightful, it is possible, to read of than to deal with. We might take Loucas, the boatman. His wages wore not extravagant, and he was an indefatigable worker. But his appetite was appalling. "Every night he ate the whole hindquarters of a good-sized goat, as a piece de resistance, with accessories and trimmins ' to satisfy a dozen American labourers." " It was the opportunity of Loucas's life, and he was not found wanting." A difficulty of another kind was experienced in the complexity of the ecclesiastical laws of diet. Many holy days have their special food, and it is a more serious offence to eat or drink the wrong thing than to break the Ten Commandments. Actual Greek religion is, indeed, a strange affair. Whatever the Church may teach, "the only vital conception in the mind of the peasant is that of the Virgin Mary." The subtlety of intercession he does not under- stand.
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