be carried down after the canoes, holding on by the "painter."
And here we made a discovery that will redound to the fame of Athens,—a discovery which we present to that town in memory of the genial hospitality of one of its chief citizens, the Rev. Father Costello, who gave us an evening not to be forgotten. Here let me tell how, baked and burned and tired and hungry and thirsty, on the night preceding our discovery, we walked up to the house of the good priest at sunset, and were met at the open door with outstretched hands of welcome; and how, before a word was spoken, we were handed two great goblets filled with iced wine,—rich, fruity, American wine; and how we sat down to a dinner for epicures, even if it were Friday; and how we then were taken into the little moonlit garden, with good cigars, and other comforts, while our amiable and accomplished host charmed us with quaint fancy and strange learning, and played for us on the flute so softly that it could not be heard fifty feet away, but so exquisitely that we knew we were listening to the soul of a poet and a master; and how simply and tenderly he told us that he had discovered a similarity between his little Athens in the Pennsylvania hills and the immortal Athens of the Acropolis.
