upon her breast one of those locks of my hair which she had so often delighted to twist round her fingers, and which were now cut off as an outward sign of mourning.

I had frequently in my visits to my mother's apartments, surprised her and Zoë reading a book, which, upon my appearance, was invariably shut, and put into a little ebony chest inlaid with silver, and the key being turned upon it, was deposited in the pocket of my mother. In early years, when literature was a task rather than a pleasure to me, this circumstance was almost unheeded by me; but as I encreased in years, and knowledge became interesting to me, my curiosity was awakened, and I frequently asked my mother to tell me what it was about, and to let me read it. This, however, she constantly refused to do, at first evading my questions; but as they became more importunate, she told me I was not old enough to understand her studies; and if I endeavoured to extract from her a promise to let me see it when I should be older, she would give it conditionally, the fulfilment resting upon my

father's approbation. Thus my mother's book became to me an object of intense curiosity and interest; a something with which increase of years would make me acquainted, a pleasure promised for the future.

After her death, when my father, in examining the different chests, came to open the small ebony one, where she had kept those articles which she most valued, I anxiously looked for the book, and cannot express my surprise, consternation, and grief, at not perceiving it.

I looked towards Zoë, as if expecting that she would explain why it was not there; but with her eyes fixed upon the different articles as they were separately taken from out the chest, she either did not understand the silent question I had put, or if she did understand it, she was determined not to answer it.

Resolved not to be so foiled, I said, "Zoë, where is the She would not let me proceed, but with a secret sign to me, she replied in a hasty, bustling manner, "Here

is the little bracelet you wished to see; it is the last my dear mistress wore."

C

I did not attempt to repeat my enquiry then, for it seemed unpleasant to Zoë, therefore in the hope of gaining a more direct answer, when we should be alone, I remained silent. An opportunity of speaking to her soon offered itself, but she positively refused to give me any information upon the subject, adding that my mother, in her last illness had made her promise not to give me the book, without the consent of my father. She would not even give me an idea of its contents, and even hinted that she thought it very improbable that my father would ever suffer me to

read it.

I thought Zoë was unkind to me in this instance, in every other whim and caprice she fully indulged me, and at all other times I felt that I had still a kind and loving friend left to me.

19

CHAPTER III.

EDUCATION in Athens was conducted upon a general plan, to which the parents of children conformed, with very slight exceptions. Boys till the age of seven years were taught to read by the Grammatists: they were then taught music by the Citharistes; and after their thirteenth year it was usual for them to be consigned to the care of the Pedotribes to learn the gymnastic exercises. And so fascinating and delightful were these exercises. to some of our robust youth, that they delighted to signalize themselves in wrestling, pugilism, and races of every kind.

I have said that my mother was more beautiful than the generality of the Grecian females. A perfect symmetry of form was one characteristic of her loveliness, and this I in

herited, joined to a firmness and fullness properly belonging to a male. I knew that my father delighted in my personal advantages, although he had never so openly praised my handsome features and figure as my dear mother had done. Perhaps it was as well for me that he did not, otherwise I might have become vain and effeminate; as it was, I loved to hear my mother praise me, but all the vanity which might have been raised by her encomiums, was quickly banished by the more judicious conduct of my father, who early instilled into my mind, the great superiority of mental over bodily perfections. Nevertheless I am inclined to think, that his unwillingness to permit me to follow the gymnastic exercises beyond a certain point, arose from the fear of injuring the contour of my form.

He was aware, that the nervous system of man is capable of a certain degree of tension, only. Beyond that point, it loses in one part what it gains in another. In boxers the hands are strengthened at the expense of the feet; and in racers the feet gain what the