her for some dangerous spy. Uncovering her mouth,
they began to question her closely; and Madame Pfeiffer understood
Russian sufficiently to be able, in reply, to tell them her name, native
country, and her object in travelling. This, however, did not satisfy
them, and they asked for her passport, which she could not show them, as
it was in her portmanteau.

At length they reached the post-house. Madame Pfeiffer was shown into a
room, at the door of which the Cossack stationed himself with his
musket. She was detained all night; but the next morning, having fetched
her portmanteau, they examined her passport, and were then good enough
to dismiss her, without offering any apology, however, for their
shameful treatment of her. To such discourtesies travellers in Russian
territories are too often exposed. It is surprising that a powerful
government should stoop to so much craven fear and petty suspicion.

From Tiflis our traveller proceeded across Georgia to Redutkale, whence
she made her way to Kertch, on the shore of the Sea of Azov; and thence
to Sevastopol, destined a few years later to become the scene of a great
historic struggle. She afterwards reached Odessa, one of the great
European granaries, situated at the mouth of the Dniester on the Euxine.
From Odessa to Constantinople the sea-distance is four hundred and
twenty miles. She made but a brief sojourn in the Turkish capital.
Taking the steamer to Smyrna, she passed through the star-like clusters
of the isles of Greece--those isles "where burning Sappho loved and
sung;" and from Smyrna she hastened to Athens. There she trod, indeed,
upon "hallowed ground." Every shattered temple, every ruined monument,
every fragment of arch or column, recalled to her some brave deed of
old; or some illustrious name of philosopher, statesman, poet, patriot,
enshrined for ever in the world's fond remembrance. Madame Pfeiffer was
not a scholar, but she had read enough to feel her sympathies awakened
as she gazed from the lofty summit of the Acropolis on the plains of
Attica and the waters of the AEgean, on Salamis and Marathon. She was not
an artist, but she had a feeling for the beautiful; and she examined
with intense delight the Parthenon, the Temple of Theseus, the Olympian,
the Tower of the Winds, and the graceful choragic monument of
Lysicrates. These, however, have been more fitly described by writers
capable of doing them justice, and Madame Pfeiffer's brief and
commonpla