city;[1]
that the greatest generals, statesmen, poets, orators, artists,
historians, and philosophers that the world can boast, were produced
in the short space of a century and a half by a city numbering about
20,000 burghers. It is scarcely an exaggeration to say with the
author of 'Hereditary Genius,' that the population of Athens, taken
as a whole, was as superior to us as we are to the Australian
savages. Long and earnest, therefore, should be our hesitation
before we condemn as pernicious or unprofitable the instincts and
the customs of such a race.

[1] [Greek: Ten tes poleos dunamin kath' hemeran ergo
theomenous kai erastas gignomenous autes].--Thuc. ii. 43.

The permanence of strongly marked features in the landscape of
Greece, and the small scale of the whole country, add a vivid charm
to the scenery of its great events. In the harbour of Peiraeus we can
scarcely fail to picture to ourselves the pomp which went forth to
Sicily that solemn morning, when the whole host prayed together and
made libations at the signal of the herald's trumpet. The nation of
athletes and artists and philosophers were embarked on what seemed
to some a holiday excursion, and for others bid fair to realise
unbounded dreams of ambition or avarice. Only a few were
heavy-hearted; but the heaviest of all was the general who had
vainly dissuaded his countrymen from the endeavour, and fruitlessly
refused the command thrust upon him. That was 'the morning of a
mighty day, a day of crisis' for the destinies of Athens. Of all
that multitude, how few would come again; of the empire which they
made so manifest in its pride of men and arms, how little but a
shadow would be left, when war and fever and the quarries of
Syracuse had done their fore-appointed work! Yet no commotion of the
elements, no eclipse or authentic oracle from heaven, was interposed
between the arrogance of Athens and sure-coming Nemesis. The sun
shone, and the waves laughed, smitten by the oars of galleys racing
to AEgina. Meanwhile Zeus from the watchtower of the world held up
the scales of fate, and the balance of Athens was wavering to its
fall.

A few strokes of the oar carry us away from Peiraeus to a scene
fraught with far more thrilling memories. That little point of rock
emergent from the water between Salamis and the mainland, bare,
insignificant, and void of honour among islands to the natural eye,
is Psyttaleia. A strange tightening at the heart assail