ek poetess has nothing to do with
these reflections, unless one refers to the ladies who are announced to
the public from time to time as "the modern Sappho," in which case one
might suggest to them the excellent facilities the rock affords. As to
the greatest of women of letters, I do not know that there is anything
more to say about her in the language of the United States. If she had
flourished and perished last year, M. Jules Lemaitre (her name would
have been Leocadie, probably) would doubtless have written an article
about her: "The career, literary and other, of Mademoiselle Leocadie, a
ete des plus distinguees, bien qu'un peu tapageuse."

As the steamer crossed from Santa Maura to Cephalonia we had a clear
view of little Ithaca, the Ithaca which Ulysses loved, "not because it
was broad, but because it was his own." Except Paxo, Ithaca is the
smallest of the sister islands. The guide-book declares "No steamer
touches at Ithaca, but there is frequent communication by caique." This
announcement, like others from the same authority, is false, though it
may have been true thirty years ago. The very steamer that carried us
stopped regularly at the suitors' island upon her return voyage to
Corfu. We could not take this voyage; therefore we were free to wish
(selfishly) that this particular one, among the many deceptive
statements which we had read, might have been veracious. For
"communication by caique" is surely a phrase of delight. It brings up
not only the Ionian, but the AEgean Sea; it carries the imagination
onward to the Bosporus itself.

Sir William Gell and Dr. Schliemann between them have discovered at
Ithaca all the sites of the Odyssey, even to the stone looms of the
nymphs. Other explorers, with colder minds, have decided that at least
the author of the poem must have had a close acquaintance with the
island, for many of his descriptions are very accurate. We need no guide
for Penelope; we can materialize her, as the spiritualists say, for
ourselves. Hers is a very modern character. One knows without the
telling that she had much to say, day by day, about her sufferings, her
feelings, her duty, and her conscience--above all things, her
conscience. Her confidantes in that upper room were probably extremely
familiar with her point of view, which was that if she should choose
any one of her suitors, or if she should cruelly drive the whole throng
away, suicide on an overwhelming scale would inevitably be the