ard the
Acropolis, he will first inspect the remains of the great theatre of
Dionysus, so familiar to him as the place where, in the presence
of all the people and many strangers, were acted the plays of his
favorite poets, Eschylus and Sophocles, and where they won many
prizes. Hurrying over the eastern brow of the hill, he comes suddenly
upon the spot, enters at the summit, as many an Athenian did in the
olden time, and is smitten with amazement at the first glance, and led
to question whether this be indeed the site of the ancient theatre. He
finds, it is true, the topmost seats cut in the solid rock, row above
row, stripped now of their marble lining and weather-worn, but yet the
genuine ancient seats of the upper tier. These he expected to find.
But whence are those fresh seats which fill the lower part of the
hollow, arranged as neatly as if intended for immediate use? and
whence the massive stage beyond? He bethinks himself that he has
heard of recent excavations under the patronage of the government, and
closer inspection shows that these are actually the lower seats of the
theatre in the time of the emperor Hadrian, whose favorite residence
was Athens, and who did so much to embellish the city. The front seats
consist of massive stone chairs, each inscribed with the name of its
occupant, generally the priestess of some one of the numerous gods
worshiped by that people so given to idolatry. In the centre of the
second row is an elevated throne inscribed with the name of Hadrian.
The stage is seen to be the ancient Greek stage enlarged to the
Roman size to suit the demands of a later style of theatrical
representation.

[Illustration: THEATRE OF DIONYSUS (BACCHUS).]

After looking in vain for the seat occupied by the priestess of the
Unknown God, our traveler passes on and enters with a beating heart
the charmed precincts of the Acropolis itself. The Propylaea, which he
has been accustomed to regard too exclusively as a mere entrance-gate
to the glories beyond, impresses him with its size and grandeur, and
the little temple of Victory by its side with its elegance.[A] But
the steepness of the ascent perplexes him. It seems impracticable for
horses, yet he knows by unexceptionable testimony that the Athenian
youth prided themselves upon driving their matched steeds in the great
Panathenaic procession which once every four years wound up the hill,
bearing the sacred peplus to the temple of the goddess. A closer