say
nothing of the philosophers and poets we have along with us?

But they are thinking of Eleusis, and not of the way to Eleusis; so that
we may as well keep our suggestion to ourselves,--also those pious
admonitions which we were just about to administer to our companions on
heathenish superstitions. A strange fascination these Athenians have;
and before we are aware, _our_ thoughts, too, are centred in Eleusis,
whither are tending, not Athens only, but vast multitudes from all
Greece. Their movement is tumultuous; but it is a tumult of natural
enthusiasm, and not of Bacchic frenzy. If Athens be, as Milton calls
her, "the eye of Greece," surely Eleusis must be its heart!

There are nine days of the festival. This first is the day of the
_agurmos_, ([Greek: agyrmos],) or assembling together the flux of
Grecian life into the secret chambers of its Eleusinian heart. To-morrow
is the day of purification; then, "To the sea, all ye that are
initiated!" ([Greek: Alade, mystai!]) lest any come with the stain of
impurity to the mysteries of God. The third day is the day of
sacrifices, that the heart also may be made pure, when are offered
barley from the fields of Eleusis and a mullet. All other sacrifices may
be tasted; but _this_ is for Demeter alone, and not to be touched by
mortal lips. On the fourth day, we join the procession bearing the
sacred basket of the goddess, filled with curious symbols, grains of
salt, carded wool, sesame, pomegranates, and poppies,--symbols of the
gifts of our Great Mother and of her mighty sorrow. On the night of the
fifth, we are lost in the hurrying tumult of the torch-light
processions. Then there is the sixth day, the great day of all, when
from Athens the statue of Iacchus (Bacchus) is borne, crowned with
myrtle, tumultuously through the sacred gate, along the sacred way,
halting by the sacred fig-tree, (all sacred, mark you, from Eleusinian
associations,) where the procession rests, and then moves on to the
bridge over the Cephissus, where again it rests, and where the
expression of the wildest grief gives place to the trifling farce,--even
as Demeter, in the midst of her grief, smiled at the levity of Iambe in
the palace of Celeus. Through the "mystical entrance" we enter Eleusis.
On the seventh day, games are celebrated; and to the victor is given a
measure of barley,--as it were a gift direct from the hand of the
goddess. The eighth is sacred to Aesculapius, the Divine Physician, wh