Tripolitza, to the northwest of Tegea, represents
the ancient Pallantium, the birthplace of Evander. Here Dhemetri brought
us bad news. We had intended to go to Mantinea, thence north through
Orchomenus, Stymphalus, and Sicyon, to Corinth; but the passes, we
learned, were impracticable for the snow, and we must recross Mount
Parthenion, and revisit Achladhokamvo and Argos. First, however, we took
a rapid ride to Mantinea, about eight miles through a level, tolerably
well-cultivated country. At the narrow passage between the mountains,
there stood in ancient times a grove of cork-trees, called 'Pelagus,'
the sea. Epaminondas, warned by an oracle to beware of the 'Pelagus,'
had carefully avoided the sea. But it was just in this spot that he drew
up his troops for the great battle which cost him his life. When
mortally wounded, he was carried to a high place called
'Skope'--identified with the sharp spur of Mount Maenalus, which projects
just here into the plain, and from this he watched the battle, and here
he died, like Wolfe, at the moment of victory. The well-built walls of
Mantinea still stand in nearly their entire circuit, built in the fourth
century before Christ, after Agesipolis of Sparta had captured the city,
by washing away its walls of sun-burnt brick, and had dispersed the
inhabitants among the neighboring villages. The restoration of the city
was a part of the great system of humbling Sparta, set on foot by
Epaminondas after the battle of Leuctra.

After spending the night at Achladhokamvo, where we visited the ruins of
Hysiae close by, we went next day through Argos, passing within sight of
Mycenae, to Nemea, where, in a beautiful little valley, three Doric
columns, still standing, testify to the former sanctity of the spot.
Then to Kurtissa, the ancient Cleonae, to pass the night. When Dhemetri
pointed it out to us from the hill above, it looked like a New-England
farm-house, a neat white cottage peeping out from among the trees, and
we rejoiced at the prospect. But lo! the neat white cottage was a
guardhouse, and our khan was the rude, unpainted, windowless barn. It
was, nevertheless, very comfortable. There was a ceiling to the room,
and the board windows were tight. The floor, to be sure, gaped in wide
cracks; but as there was a blazing fire in the room beneath, the cracks
let in no cold air, nothing but smoke, a sort of compensation, as it
seemed, for our having a chimney, lest we should be puffed up w