will travel Harold," said the teacher, "with our imagination, not to the river Nile nor to the Phœnician land with its ships, but to Greece, a little country far to the east, jutting out from the southern coast of Europe into the Mediterranean Sea, and looking like a hand with stubby little fingers. This country is four or five days' travel by trireme from Egypt,—Kufu's country,—which we studied about and five or six days' travel in a Phœnician boat westward would have brought us to its green islands and lovely shores. I want to tell you about this country when it was very young and but few people living in it. We will first see it when it is a mere infant, as it were, and afterward see it grow to be a man." Harold closed his eyes to imagine the sea, mountains, valleys and rivers, and when he opened them again he found himself alone in the loveliest valley he had ever seen. Behind him lay the sea; to the right were hills crowned with tall pine trees; on the left was a thick wood, and beyond it the blue mountain peaks touched the blue sky. Harold stopped to pick up a few acorn cups and knock a prickly green chestnut bur from the tree.

He wandered on and presently was much surprised to see a stone wall a short distance before him. He walked in at the open gate. It was nearly dark by this time, and he did not know whether he was in a house or a barn, for he heard sounds of both animals and men; but being very tired, he lay down on one of the benches of polished stone just inside the gate and slept soundly until morning. He found his neighbors were awake, too. There were cows, a watchdog, sheep, goats, and pigs in their pens, built around the inside of the square wall; and there, too, were the rooms for the men who tended them, and rooms for the women who milked the cows and goats.

At one end of this court was a long portico with columns, which was the entrance to the real house. Harold thought he was never in such an odd-looking front yard.

A little boy of Harold's size came and stood by the side of one of the columns. He was barefoot and wore a garment thrown loosely over the shoulders, for Greece was so warm that only on colder days and near the mountains did one need much clothing. Harold joined Phœnix (for that was the boy's name), and after saying a pleasant good morning to a stranger who was folding up his bed of skins in the portico, he said, "Come with me into the doma (that was what he called the dwelling room) and I will ask my father if you may stay with me."

They passed through a dark hall into a very large open room, where there were many men, and were soon at the side of a kind-faced man, who said he would be glad to have his little son's guest remain with him. He was a tall, straight man, and his light yellow hair was arranged in long curls. He wore over his chiton (for so Phœnix called his dress) a beautiful red cloak. It was not a cloak such as we know, but a large square piece of cloth beautifully embroidered around the edge, draped about the body and fastened on the left shoulder with a silver clasp.

Harold sat on a footstool and looked about him. In two rows on either side of the room were wooden columns which held up the roof. Near the center of the room was a large column, and leaning against it were a great number of spears, which Phœnix said would be used to attack their enemies on the other side of the mountains. At one side of the room was a fireplace built of brick. There was no chimney, but Harold did not mind the smoke, for he was eager to see what was being prepared for breakfast. Two slave women, who were captives from another valley, cooked the meat. They put pieces of beef on iron sticks and slowly roasted it over the open fire. A young girl lifted a copper kettle from the crane and stirred something that very much resembled oatmeal.

Many men were in the room. Phœnix explained that some of these were his older brothers, who were married, and who, with their families, had rooms in another part of the house, while others were guests and strangers, who sat on the hearth-stone and sought his father's protection.

"Come, Phœnix, and take my shield to the room above," said the largest and strongest of them all. It took both boys to carry it to the apartment over the doma. There were so many interesting shields, swords, helmets, greaves and spears, besides the household goods stowed away, that Harold wished to look at them all. He was given one of the prettiest chairs to use for his own while he was there. It had a curved back all in one piece of wood, with a carved border, and with a bronze horse embedded in the center. It was a comfortable chair, although it had neither rockers nor arms. "What a fine store I could have, if all these things were mine," thought Harold.

When they came down, the door of the doma was opened, and there stood a gentle woman with a fine face, dressed in a long white chiton. She bade her son come to his breakfast. Harold followed, and when all the children were seated, a little table was set before each one. Harold enjoyed his wholesome breakfast of goat's milk and barley bread, and was too polite to seem to notice the very odd but beautifully shaped spoon and bowl given him. After breakfast they went to the large garden back of the house, where Phœnix proudly pointed out his own special young apple trees, which were bearing for the first time, the trim rows of asters and the abundant crop of beans which he had been taught to care for during the summer. Near by was a goose pond where Penelope, Phœnix's sister, was throwing bread to the geese.

She presently came to them, and they entered the house together—not the room where they first went, but the one back of that, where Harold and the others ate breakfast, the thalium, or women's room, as it was called. There sat the mother and the sisters of Phœnix, sewing. The mother passed from one to the other, showing one how to turn a hem and another how to arrange the colors on the border she was embroidering. Even little Penelope was taking stitches in a chiton which was intended for her brother's birthday, for all girls among the early Greeks learned to sew and spin and to do all kinds of household work. Harold could not decide which was the prettiest of Phœnix's four older sisters, for they were all beautiful; but he liked Narcissa, the one with golden hair, the best, for she was the most gentle. A dark-haired little girl, not much older than Penelope, carried Narcissa's silk to her, arranged her footstool, and brought her a drink. She did not look happy, and Harold saw her wipe away the tears as she gazed toward the sea; for she remembered how, not many months ago, she was stolen from her country and brought by the Phœnician and sold to be a sewing-maid in this household. Narcissa found her weeping, and kissed her softly. Harold wondered if she would ever forget her home, and the parents and brothers and sisters from whom she had been stolen.

At dinner time the work was put away, the hunters returned, bringing a large stag, and men and women sat down in the doma. The slaves brought in jugs of wine and cases of water, and these the master mixed in an earthen urn of the most beautiful pattern. Its handles were traced with gold, and a silver dove perched on each. Small tables were brought in, and after being carefully washed, were placed, one before each person, for the Greeks never all sat at one table to dine as we do. The kettle of peas was lifted from the crane and then put into small dishes that looked like the saucers Harold had seen under his mother's flower-pots, only they were not so well shaped. The roasted pork and beef were carried to the table of the carvers, and there cut into small pieces before being served. Baskets of onions were passed around, and barley and wheat bread looked very tempting in baskets of golden wire. A piece of cheese, a cup of olive oil, and a bronze saucer of honey completed the food they would have for dinner. Before any one ate, a slave poured water from a golden pitcher into a basin, and each washed his hands; for since there were no forks, and spoons were little used, the fingers needed to be quite clean. Instead of using napkins they cleaned their fingers, after the meal, on pieces of dough. They drank wine, but it was well mixed with water, and the Greek was so temperate in its use that he rarely became intoxicated.

After the tables were removed and the crumbs picked up off the floor, the father took his place on a great throne-like seat covered with a fine rug. Here he sat with the other people grouped around. On one side Harold noticed a platform up high, much like the band stand he saw in town. Here musicians sat and played upon the harps and sang the songs of the heroes— among others a song about the capture of the Golden Fleece. "This is very beautiful," said Harold. "Oh, wait until we go to the market place and hear Homer," said Phœnix. "I will ask my father if we may go with him."

Just then a bugle sounded, and both boys scampered away to the outer wall. Coming over the ridge beyond the meadow, was a drove of white oxen with glistening coats, accompanied by their driver and his servants. Phœnix clapped his hands at first, but, thinking again, said, "I hope it isn't Narcissa he is coming for." The man proudly approached the wall, and entering the doma was presented at the throne of the chief. The next day when he went away he took Narcissa to be his wife and left the oxen, for they were the price her father received for her. Narcissa rode a pretty gray horse as she went away. The dark-haired little slave girl whom she took with her smiled back from the donkey-wagon that held the beautiful and useful garments Narcissa and her maidens had woven.