Chapter I: The Secret of the Alcohol Habit (6)

“So planned and so engineered, Chautauqua is the university of _the common people_, of the great middle class that constitute the strength and glory of every country, and especially of ours. Its numbers are prodigious, its extent is world wide. It sets a splendid example for all nations. It strikes the keynote for the education eventually of the whole human race. In our land it is destined to do more for the perpetuation of our free institutions than many another time-honored school or college that limits its benefits to some privileged class, sex, color or section. Chautauqua blows a trumpet to every quarter of the compass, and says to all, ‘Come ye and buy wine and milk without money and without price.’”

THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION.

Is there not ample room for non-partisan comment on partisan struggles? We are in the midst of a political conflict which inevitably takes up a large part of the general attention; surely there must be some suggestions which a non-partisan can profitably make. For example, look at the fact, new in important points, that personal scandal affecting candidates occupies a conspicuous place in the contest. We have been in the habit of reasoning that such an element must be demoralizing. Is it such in the present instance? We think not. We further think that some very good results may follow such a political campaign. The prominence given to questions of personal purity, in public life and in private life, is itself a good sign. It means that the people are keenly alive to moral issues, that these issues cannot be evaded, that the public demand for purity has risen without the special notice of the quick-witted managers of politics. Nor are the discussions having any unfavorable effect on sound morals. The people insist upon the moral element, and by so doing prove that they are sounder, truer, more religiously patriotic than they were supposed to be. We see also the better uses of the press in more favorable lights. When a scandal is not merely mud, but involves plain matters of fact in the life of a candidate, the press is put on its good behavior to tell the story with decorum, and prove it with good evidence. We never have seen a cleaner campaign, though we never saw one with such conspicuous challenging of private character. A wise man said long ago that the American people are always grave in grave circumstances. The present occasion proves the rule. The solemnity of the challenge of character has given an air of sobriety to the campaign which is as satisfactory as it was unexpected.

Another thing which seems to us quite in our way to say is that the political contest has an uncommonly large humanitarian element in the center of the field. We probably have readers who believe that the interests of the American workmen are not specially concerned in the result. It is not that question of fact which we now raise, but the fact of the _solicitude_ for the workmen which is conspicuous. We are witnessing, at this point, not so much a discussion about the tariff—for so far there has not been much of that—as a discussion over the permanent welfare of a large and growing section of our population. This discussion is not carried on by them so much as on behalf of them. Granted that a great party sees in their welfare an opportunity; what is it that makes the opportunity? It is surely not any incidents of the last Congress, or any opinions of candidates. These would be insufficient to create the discussion in its serious form. Is it not true that the philanthropy which freed the slave is thinking and feeling for the men in mills, and their wives and little ones? It would be easy to show that the politicians would have passed this matter by if they could. But we have become a manufacturing country. The laborer has become a great fact. He is a citizen, a social element, a man with a soul, and the head of a family. The social instinct in us took alarm some years ago. Outside of parties it has worked out into humanitarian feeling, and is ripening into purpose. The workman is likely for some decades to fashion for us the spirit of our politics and the ends sought by our statesmanship. No matter how much or little it may influence the results of this struggle for the control of the government, the question of the workman’s well-being has come among us to stay. It touches our life at all points. It challenges our institutions. It says to us: “Solve me or I will dissolve you.” Are we to have a distinctly depressed class doing our work? Is the “white slave” to live, suffer and die under our feet? There are persons who say, “it is inevitable. Older societies have sifted down to the bottom these forlorn and hopeless elements by force of a natural necessity, by a law of human society.” No good and strenuous American believes such a doctrine. The country we live in exists in our thought, to make life fairer, sweeter, more equally gracious for all the members of the national household. Our ideal is challenged by the specter of a degraded mass of laborers. We can not see this ghost of the old world without a shiver of apprehension. It may be that tariff questions do not touch the main question; that is for others to consider. What we note is that the whole of this labor question, with its complicated relations to all other questions, looms large on the horizon.

A third suggestion is that the only practicable mode of dealing successfully with issues which concern morals, philanthropy and sobriety, is to get them a place in the one general contest which is waged for the control of the government. Two parties, one contest—that is the system of the Republic. All others than the two parties are participants in the one battle, and on one side or the other. A man in society has to accept the sun and rain, the social order, the general constitutional order. His third, fourth, fifth parties are related by the usages of the country to the real contest between the two parties. He must and really does choose which of the two he prefers for the victor. He might as well reject the showers of summer and say he will have none of them as to say he will have neither party. He must have one or the other; he will have one or the other; he will contribute to the victory of one or the other. It is possibly hard to choose; but when it is easy to do so, and one really wishes to defeat his own party, it is best to deal it a blow in front with both fists. Providence has arranged a system of mathematics which counts the men in the Cave of Adullam on one side or the other in the engagement of the battle-field. It is a good thing to put 200,000 temperance men in line in a state; but a little column of 5,000 or 20,000 of the same army demonstrating by itself really weakens the cause, because it is so small a part of the army. Workingmen’s parties are no better. They are made up of men whose interests are in the hands of the great parties, one or the other of which must take the administration of affairs. The rule is that this truth of social mathematics grows clear to most men as the campaign proceeds; and in the end the great body of voters vote directly for the side they prefer. The stubborn fact is that only one man can be president at a time, and that the people must choose one of two men for the office. That is the law of American politics which no one of us can change. There is not even any relief from it afforded by dispersing the electoral votes among several men and leaving the House of Representatives to choose. That body is in existence with a distinct political complexion—to give the election to it is to choose one of the two candidates. That is not a chance fact of to-day; it is a rule of our political system. The political preference of the House of Representatives is always known when the presidential vote is cast. We are simply shut up, all of us, to promoting, directly or indirectly, the election of one of two men to the office of President of the United States.

THE SECRET OF THE POLE.

The rescue of the Greely party of Arctic explorers (a few days too late) has given the public two extraordinary sensations. The first exciting incidents were those of the rescue of a party of men who had gone a few miles nearer to the Pole. We were allowed two weeks of satisfaction and rejoicing over the rescue and the scientific gains of the Greely expedition. Then came a sickening revelation of cannibalism among the starved and dying explorers. The sensational press never seemed so hateful as it did when it went prying into the horrors of the last month of that struggle for life. The cap-sheaf was put on indecency by a pictorial paper which gave a picture of one of the dead men, and printed under it that, after he was dead his comrades ate his flesh. The shamelessness of such journalism can not be rebuked; civilized language has no adequate terms. It is, however, no longer possible to deny that cannibalism is one of the remote possibilities of Arctic exploration. The fact may or may not temporarily arrest the efforts to uncover the secrets of the frozen North. We do not perceive a sufficient reason in the fact. We know that horrors hang around all histories of such discovery—this among them. But this is only a more disgusting fact. We know that the circumpolar battles between man and nature cost human life, rich and costly life, vast sufferings and cruel disappointments. It would be a strange thing if the full exposure of a revolting fact which is not new to the initiated few, should raise a murmur among the many now for the first time enlightened—a murmur so strong as to restrain governments from further explorations. We doubt if public opinion can in that way get a leverage under the scientific enthusiasm and overthrow it.

The main question recurs: What is the use of Arctic exploration? In general terms, it may be said that there are few, if any, unsolved problems of science on which Northern discovery _might not_ shed light, and it may be said with equal truth that there is apparently nothing to be found out at the Pole, but the location of frozen hills and frozen seas among which life is impossible. There are chances that hints towards the solution of many problems may be gained in that world of frost; there is no certainty, not even any high probability that we shall be any wiser when we have beaten the Ice King and successfully traversed his dominions. Our readers know that the original impulse to these dangerous voyages was the hope of finding a northwest passage to India. When hope vanished new thoughts took the place of the old notion of going to India by the North Atlantic. Questions of ocean currents, of northern forms of vegetable and animal life, of the aurora borealis, of the phenomena of the Ice Age of the earth, of divers other eagerly studied questions of the world and man have arisen to stimulate discovery. The scientific man kept on in the lines which the trader had given over in despair. Besides, our blood was up. To be beaten by frost is not to be consented to by courageous humanity. And so the struggle has gone on. Fruitlessly? No, a considerable amount of precious knowledge has been gained. Each ten years adds some stretches of land and sea to our maps. The total result is probably richly worth the life and treasure expended. If in a battle a cause can claim ten thousand lives, who may say that in the pursuit of knowledge a few hundred shall be grudged? Besides, the world needs a moral gymnasium—a field in which courage, endurance, heroism, may be trained. The North is a better gymnasium than the field of war. It has fewer horrors and a more thorough discipline. Examples of manliness, devotion, self-denial abound in these stories of Arctic discovery. The examples tell on society at large much more effectively than military exploits. Every nation is interested in every heroic incident of the frozen seas. The attempt to call a halt in these enterprises will probably fail; and perhaps after all we should wish them to fail. Every life is well spent whose loss tells on general character, and we have no chapters of secular life that are richer in inspiration than those of Polar enterprise. Lives are lost; but our Lord’s rule is good always that lost lives may be better lost than saved. The North may yet yield up precious secrets; it is safe to prophesy that if it has any under its winding sheet of ice man will discover it.

EDITOR’S NOTE-BOOK.

The Required Reading in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for the month of October ends on page 20, with the article on “Temperance Teachings of Science.”

* * * * *

Mr. Henry Bergh, who has done a good work for horses in New York, and tried to do a good deal of work not absolutely good for other animals (cats for instance), has one quality of a successful reformer; he can use strong language. He denounces M. Pasteur as “A Jenner in France who now crawls to the earth’s surface and begins the fiend-like and disgusting work of polluting the bodies and flesh of the lower animals.” Mr. Bergh does not believe in inoculation for small-pox. It is a pity he does not confine his benevolence to horses and their sorrows, a subject which he understands.

* * * * *

Constant gains characterize the uses of electricity. Recently a message was sent from Australia to England in _twenty-three minutes_, over 13,318 miles of wire. French experiments in the use of electricity as a motor are making rapid progress. Telephone messages have been sent 1,200 miles, from Cincinnati to Baltimore, and we are not certain that this is the best record. Bulwer’s “Coming Race” did everything by just touching buttons and setting automata at work. Perhaps that race is really “coming” after all.

* * * * *

What is in a name? The cholera is no worse, nor any more curable, by calling its cause a _microbe_ (literally minute life, meaning microscopic insect). It does help us, however, to emphasize old truth. The diseased are usually victims, Dr. Koch says, of the microbes. If the digestive organs are impaired, the microbe attacks them with more success. Still, we are thus far not very much wiser for the terms _microbe_ and _bacillus_. Meanwhile, Dr. Koch’s first practical rule, that “dry heat is fatal to the microbe,” is contradicted by the well-known fact that cholera in Asia is very much at home in the dryest heat known on the globe.

* * * * *

The papers report that a colored man having married a white woman in Indiana has been tried for the crime and sentenced to five years in the penitentiary. We can not discover any use in such proceedings. As we have remarked once before, the mixture of races is not brought about by legitimate relations of the sexes, but by illegitimate. Indiana punishes the wrong people. For one mulatto born in marriage there are a thousand born out of wedlock. Besides, it has not been proved that the moral quality of a crime attaches to marriage by persons of different races. It is highly speculative morals, at all events.

* * * * *

The New York financial troubles of May have, as we anticipated, led to no general disaster. In New York the business community is well over the panic, stocks have recovered astonishingly, and general trade is active and good. Credit lines are closer than they were; but this is a good result. A large harvest gives the people assurance of cheap food, and stimulates enterprise. The shock in May has proved a blessing. We need to be reminded often that honesty, diligence and prudence are necessary to business success, individually and collectively.

* * * * *

Do not play with it; in the language of the boys, “it’s loaded.” We refer to the theory that impure private life is something relatively unimportant in public life. Vote as you judge proper; but don’t corrupt public morals by public apologies for lechery in any form; it is dangerous business.

* * * * *

A respectably-sized body of unrespectable Americans have recently emigrated to Canada—made up of defaulting bank officers and other trust-breakers. There is a defect which ought to be remedied in the extradition laws. Canada does not wish to be colonized by this class of thieves, and we prefer to house and feed the rascals in appropriate residences at home. It is, in fact, a scandal to civilization that this class of thieves can escape punishment by crossing the suspension bridge.

* * * * *

It has settled into custom for the President of the United States to take a long vacation in the summer. We owe the custom, a wholesome one, to General Grant. It was criticised severely when he as President began to travel about in the summer. His successors have improved the practice by roving more widely and extending their acquaintance among their fellow-citizens. President Arthur has traveled a good deal in an unostentatious way this summer, and we have not seen a word of criticism. It is good for the President’s health, it extends his knowledge of the country and the people, and it gives his fellow-citizens an opportunity to see and know him.

* * * * *

The cholera in Europe drove Americans home this year in midsummer, and gave us an unusually large contingent of the English tourist, who, shut off from the Alps, has been trying our Rockies and the Yosemite. A new feature of our own summer travel is a considerable stream of pleasuring flowing toward Alaska. Perhaps when the seals are killed off Alaska may pay as a summer resort.

* * * * *

One of the new blossoms of the “Chautauqua Idea” is a summer school maintained by the “South End” churches of Boston. Our correspondent, the Rev. E. E. Hale, is one of the active managers. Its session this year lasted six weeks, and was devoted to popular instruction in kindergarten and housekeeping subjects. The aim is to help the poor to knowledge in practical matters.

* * * * *

The world’s stock of wit is increasing. We Americans are the principal inventors of it, and are especially strong in the hyperbolical variety. A recent specimen worth preserving is the story that a Florida man recently killed an alligator, in whose stomach he found a hen sitting on a dozen eggs. The exaggeration turns upon the capacity of an alligator for swallowing, and the equanimity of the sitting hen. Another example is the statement that Puget Sound oysters often weigh sixty pounds apiece, and are not served on the half shell, since “nothing less than a flatboat will answer the purpose.” A good collection of American hyperboles would make a very marketable book. “Turning a howitzer loose on a June bug” is a fresh specimen which we find in a daily newspaper. A “funny editor” having to report that locomotives have fallen from $15,000 to $8,000, adds: “We would not advise our readers to lay in their winter stock of locomotives just yet; they may go lower.”

* * * * *

The preachers who indulge in vacations are not allowed any peace. The _New York Examiner_ has found a new tender spot to thrust a pin into. A resting pastor, it thinks, has no business to work or study. He is defrauding his church if he does. But then the _Examiner_ rubs the sore spot it has made by the more athletic remark that it is a sin to grind all the year through. Yes, fifty-two days of rest are required of us all. It is pleasant, by the way, to read that “the pastors are returning to their flocks,” a statement which lets out the fact that the flocks did not take a vacation.

* * * * *

A new thing under the sun this year is the meeting of the great British Association for the Advancement of Science on American soil. The Montreal meeting was still further novel in the presence and participation of distinguished United States Americans. “Greater Britain” will doubtless more and more take part in these annual gatherings of British science. The success of the Montreal meeting will provoke the emulation of Australia, New Zealand, and British India and Africa.

* * * * *

Vegetarians object to eating meat because animals must be killed to supply such food. One of our quick-witted exchanges has discovered a counter argument, or rather an _ad hominem_ of the you’re another variety. “According to some scientists vegetables feel and perhaps think.” The London _Graphic_ suggests that “the blushing carrot is susceptible of tender emotions, and that the retiring ways of the truffle are due to a well-reasoned aversion to the wickedness which is to be witnessed above ground.” “Perhaps” this is rather speculative.

* * * * *

It has been a dry summer, but it has rained financial scandals. The heaviest part of the clearing-off shower—we hope it is clearing off—fell on New Brunswick, N. J., where first the cashier and next the president of a bank committed suicide in the midst of the ruin they had wrought. That is awful, but it is morally more satisfactory and healing than the flight into Canada. When financial wreckers are hurt to the point of remorse and suicide, the horrors of the crime of genteel stealing will begin to be realized. That sin is dangerous, too. Let us thank God and take courage.

* * * * *

Dr. McCosh has been re-visiting the Old World, and at a breakfast party in Belfast stated an interesting fact. “In my early life,” he said, “I applied for many positions which I did not get; but I never applied for the positions which I have since held.” There is plenty of good wholesome use for the motto: “Let the place seek the man.” It is the rule for the good places, as the case of Dr. McCosh shows. Perhaps it is more generally the rule for other places than men suppose it to be.

* * * * *

John Bright continues to excel in strong quotable phrases and descriptions. The House of Lords being once more in the way of reform, Mr. Bright declares that House to be filled with “the spawn of the blunders, the wars and the corruption of the dark ages of our history. They have entered the temple of honor, not through the temple of merit, but through the sepulchres of their ancestors.” The last clause will probably be as lasting as his “Cave of Adullam.”

* * * * *

A notable saying easily forgets its parentage. It is too much trouble for a busy world to remember _who_ said this or that first. An expression passes into currency, and after that it is no matter who coined it. It was, we are now told, a Harvard professor who said not of Edward Everett, but of the Rev. Dr. Huntington, that his prayers were the most eloquent ever addressed _to a Boston audience_. The Dr. Huntington referred to was then a Unitarian of Boston, but is now Protestant Episcopal Bishop of Central New York. The _Christian at Work_ is our authority for the precise facts. We do not advise any one to try to remember them.

* * * * *

The French have brought about a state of war in China, by a series of aggressive measures which seek the aggrandizement of France at the expense of the territorial rights of the Chinese empire. There is not the least justification for these proceedings; nor can we hope that good will come of it. The French are successful at home and failures abroad. The French cry out that England has done even the same; but that charge, if true, would not excuse France. England has, in all recent instances, had the protection of Englishmen or some other fair pretext. Even the jingoism of Beaconsfield could make some respectable covering for its brutality. The French simply want some land and mines in Tonquin “for the glory of France.”

* * * * *

Science gets a footing everywhere. The loss of the United States steamship “Tallapoosa,” by collision with a schooner, has led to an investigation to ascertain whether the officers and men on duty are afflicted with color blindness. We have a notion that in this case the old-fashioned word carelessness is more scientific than any term used by optical learning.

* * * * *

One of the fine points of superfine theology is that Adam was the first member of the Christian Church, and was taken in immediately after the fall. We see it—the fine point reproduced in a religious paper. It is a pity that theology should be strained in men’s eyes by such uses—especially in view of the pressing wants of the living descendants of Adam.

* * * * *

The making of mortgages is one of the most fascinating of employments. It is like picking up gold in chunks. Paying mortgages is another affair, a most refined species of torture which takes away and returns nothing. But people who do not expect to pay have all the pleasure and none of the pain. The semi-civilized government which owns Panama proposes to mortgage its share of the earnings of the Panama Canal for $15,000,000. Considering that the canal may never be finished, and that it may never earn anything at all, it must be pure fun to make that mortgage. Public debts grow large easily because no particular person expects to pay any one of them. Selling such mortgages is picking up nuggets of gold—getting without effort—hence public borrowing needs conscience as a restraint.

* * * * *

It is a satisfaction to know that the best horses have been taken out of the hands of gamblers. Mr. Vanderbilt recently sold the queen of horses to Mr. Bonner, editor of the _New York Ledger_. On this side of the Atlantic, at least, fast horses are improving in reputation by keeping good human company.

* * * * *

The cholera of Asia is in Europe again after a long absence—since 1868. It has been a topic of great interest all summer, but its ravages have been comparatively insignificant. After a short period of general prevalence in Marseilles and Toulon, the unwelcome visitor went on its travels in search of dirty places in France and Italy—finding some good food in the latter country. Dirt is the delight of this scourge. Sanitary science easily handles it, keeps it within moderate limits, and stamps it out after brief duration. A renewal of the epidemic in the savage forms of 1832 and 1848 is not to be feared. The world is cleaner. The cholera has raged fiercely in Italy, especially in Naples, because sanitary reforms have made slow progress there. The people change their habits there with great reluctance, and all travelers know that Naples is the filthiest city in Europe. Wherever good sanitation prevails, cholera is checked with comparative ease. A fine use of royalty is shown by the visit of King Humbert to the afflicted towns and their hospitals.

* * * * *

The New York _Evening Post_ irreverently refers to the Emersonian philosophy as a “mixed American drink.” It is more prosaic in suggesting that the Concord School of Philosophy is not a school, and has no philosophy of a clear type, but is a continuation in summer of the winter lecture platform—a summer lyceum. We suspect that the Emersonians will not accept the amended title.

* * * * *

Switzerland has investigated the liquor question and found that more alcohol per head is consumed by the Swiss than by any other people in Europe. That little country spends $30,000,000 for drink, and yet the commission which reports these facts, also declines to advise any restrictive legislation and makes a fervid eulogy of the habit of social drinking. “Public houses,” they say, “foster intellectual activity, and are a remedy against misanthropy, vanity and egotism.” This report is probably the most remarkable document ever produced by a committee. It gives the size of the evil in bold lines and then splashes on the gay colors with reckless prodigality.

C. L. S. C. NOTES ON REQUIRED READINGS FOR OCTOBER.

PREPARATORY GREEK COURSE IN ENGLISH.

Instead of indicating the sounds of the vowels in the Greek and Latin names given in the notes, we follow the plan of Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary, giving rules for pronouncing the vowels and consonants. As the two principal marks (¯ ˘) are in Greek and Latin used differently from what they are in English, indicating the _quantity_ instead of _quality_, it will be found less confusing to adopt this method.

RULES FOR THE VOWELS.

1. Any vowel at the end of an accented syllable, and _e_, _o_, and _u_, at the end of an unaccented syllable, have the long English sound.

2. _A_, ending an unaccented syllable, has the sound of _a_ in _father_, or in _last_.

3. _I_, ending a final syllable, has the long sound. At the end of an initial unaccented syllable it varies between _i_ long and _i_ short (like _i_ in _pin_). In all other cases _i_, ending an unaccented syllable, is short.

4. _Y_ is like _i_ in the same situation.

5. _Æ_ and _æ_ like _e_ in the same situation.

6. If a syllable end in a consonant the vowel has the short English sound.

7. _E_, in final _es_, like _e_ in Andes.

RULES FOR CONSONANTS.

1. _C_, before _e_, _i_, _y_, _æ_, _œ_, is pronounced like _s_; before _a_, _o_, and _u_, and before consonants, like _k_.

2. _G_, before _e_, _i_, _y_, _æ_, and _œ_, or another _g_ followed by _e_, has the sound of _j_; before _a_, _o_ and _u_, and consonants other than _g_, the hard sound.

3. _Ch_ is like _k_, but is silent before a mute at the beginning of a word.

4. Initial _x_ is like _z_.

5. _T_, _s_ and _c_, before _ia_, _ie_, _ii_, _io_, _iv_, and _ev_, preceded immediately by the accent, change into _sh_ and _zh_; but when the _t_ follows _s_, _t_, or _z_, or when the accent falls on the first of the vowels following, the consonant preserves its pure sound.

6. Initial _ph_, before a mute, is silent.

7. _S_ has generally the sound of _s_ in _this_.

8. When two consonants like _mn_, _nm_, etc., occur at the beginning of a word, they are to be pronounced with the first consonant mute.

* * * * *

P. 9.—“Voltaire,” vol-têrˈ (1694-1778). French author.

P. 11.—“Mycenæ.” A city of Argos (see map in History of Greece), said to have been the leading city of Greece during the time of the Trojan war. Its remains are most interesting. The walls and the “gate of lions,” supposed to belong to the ancient acropolis, and two immense subterranean chambers, the walls of which contain some of the largest blocks found in the walls of buildings, are among its antiquities.

“Cyclopean.” Pertaining to a class of giants, who had but one eye in the middle of the forehead. They were said to inhabit Sicily, and to be assistants in the workshops of Vulcan, fabled to be under Mt. Etna.

“Schliemann.” A German antiquarian and traveler, who claims to have discovered the genuine home of Ulysses, and also to have unearthed ancient Troy. The latter he locates on the plateau of Hisarlik.

“Arcadia,” ar-caˈdi-a. The central country of the Peloponnesus. It received its name of “the Switzerland of Greece” from the mountains which surround it on all sides, and traverse its surface in every direction.

P. 13.—“Laconisms,” lăcˈo-nĭsms. A laconism; a brief pointed sentence; an expression in the laconic brief style of a Lacedæmonian or Spartan. The word is derived from Laconia, the name of the country.

“Pelopidas.” A Theban noble of great fortune. He was a firm friend of Epaminondas, assisting him in driving the Spartans from Thebes and being present at the battle of Leuctra. Many important civil and military affairs were entrusted to him. In 364 Pelopidas was sent to assist the Thessalonians against Alexander, but at the battle of Cynoscephalæ, (see “History of Greece,” p. 162,) he was slain while pursuing Alexander, whose army he had driven from the battle field.

“Miltiades.” In early life Miltiades had been made tyrant of the Chersonesus. He had engaged in many wars and taken from the Persians some of their possessions. These later conquests brought on him the hostility of Darius of Persia, and Miltiades was obliged to flee to Athens, where, on the approach of the Persians, he was made one of the ten generals who commanded the Athenian army. After the battle he obtained seventy ships, ostensibly to continue hostilities, but in reality he used them to satisfy a private enmity against the island of Paros. He was unsuccessful in this and wounded. On his return he was tried and cast into prison where he died from the effects of his wounds.

P. 16.—“Ichthyologist,” ĭchˌthy-ŏlˈo-gist. One who understands the classification of fishes.

P. 19.—“Longinus.” (213?-273.) The most distinguished adherent of the Platonic philosophy in the third century. His learning was so great that he was called “a living library.” He taught many years at Athens, but at last left to go to Palmyra, as the teacher of Zenobia. When she was afterward defeated by the Romans and captured, Longinus was put to death.

P. 20.—“Chrysostom.” (347-407.) The “golden mouthed,” so called because of his eloquence. In 397 he was made Bishop of Constantinople.

“Isocrates.” (436-338 B. C.) One of the ten Attic orators. His style was artificial and labored, but exercised immense influence upon oratory at Athens.

“Renascence,” re-nāsˈcence. A springing up. A becoming alive again.

P. 35.—“Academe,” aˈca-deˌme. Originally the name of a public pleasure ground situate in the Ceramicus, said to have belonged in the time of the Trojan war to Academus, a local hero. In the fifth century B. C. this land belonged to Cimon, who on his death gave it to the citizens as a public pleasure ground. Here Socrates talked, and Plato taught his philosophy until his school was named the Academic, and the Platonists the Academists. A school started by one of these philosophers was called an Academy.

“Hymettus,” hy-metˈtus. A mountain about three miles south of Athens famous for its honey and its marble.

P. 36.—“Ilissus,” i-lisˈsus. A river of Attica rising on Mount Hymettus, flowing through the eastern part of the city, and disappearing in the marshy plains outside.

“Lyceum.” The principal gymnasium of Athens. It received the name _Lyceum_ from its nearness to the temple of Apollo _Lyceios_, or Apollo the wolf slayer. Here Aristotle (to whom reference is made in the preceding line of the verse) taught his philosophy. See p. 64 of “Brief History of Greece.”

“Stoa.” The _stoa_, or portico, was a place enclosed by a colonnade or arcade, and used for walking in. There were several in Athens. The _Encyclopædia Britannica_ says: “It is probable that some of the porticoes in the Agora were built by Cimon; at all events the most beautiful one among them was reared by Pisianax, his brother-in-law, and the paintings with which Polygnotus, his sister’s lover, adorned it (representing scenes from the military history of Athens, legendary and historical), made it ever famous as the ‘painted portico.’”

“Melesigenes,” melˌe-sigˈe-nes. Meles-born. A name sometimes given to Homer. One of the traditions of his birthplace is that he was born on the banks of the Meles, in Ionia.

“Phœbus.” The bright or pure. An epithet given to Apollo (see “History of Greece,” p. 72) by Homer. When Apollo became connected with the sun this name was given to him as the sun-god.

P. 38.—“Memorabilia,” mĕmˌo-ra-bĭlˈi-a. Things to be remembered.

P. 39.—“Planudes.” A Byzantine monk of the fourteenth century. He was the editor of the Greek Anthology, the author of works on theology and natural history, as well as the collector of the fables mentioned here, and the author of Æsop’s biography.

P. 40.—“Pessimism,” pesˈsi-mism. The doctrine of those who believe everything to be at the worst.

P. 42.—“Parmenio.” A general of Philip and Alexander. He was second in command in Alexander’s Persian campaign, and did much to secure the great victories. His son being accused of being privy to a plot against the king’s life in 330 B. C., confessed himself guilty, and involved his father. Both were put to death.

P. 43.—“Lucan.” (39?-65.) A Roman poet.

P. 44.—“Lyttelton.” Lord George. (1709-1773.) An Englishman of noble family. He held various official positions, and in 1756 was raised to the peerage. The last ten years of his life were spent in literary pursuits. Beside his “Dialogues of the Dead,” he wrote a history of Henry II., and a work on St. Paul.

“Fenelon,” faˌneh-lonˈ. (1651-1715.) A French prelate and author. His most famous works, “Dialogues of the Dead,” “Directions for the Conscience of a King,” and “The Adventures of Telemachus,” were written for the use of the grandsons of Louis XIV., of whom he had been appointed preceptor.

“Landor.” (1775-1864.) An English author. His works were very voluminous, including poems, satires, dramas, etc. The work here referred to was called “Imaginary Conversations,” being a series of dialogues between persons of past and present times. It was said to have greatly increased the author’s literary reputation.

“Erasmus,” e-răzˈmŭs. (1467-1536.) A Dutch classical scholar of wide reputation. At the time that Luther advanced the tenets of the reformers Erasmus would not adopt these extreme views. Luther ridiculed and denounced the scholar, and Erasmus retorted by turning his wit against the monastic habits and scholastic dignity.

P. 45.—“Phidias,” phidˈi-as. (B. C. 490?-432.) The greatest of Grecian sculptors. His chief works were the Athene of the Acropolis, the Zeus at Olympus, and the decorations of the Parthenon, in which he was assisted by his pupils.

“Alcamenes,” al-camˈe-nes. (B. C. 444-400.) A pupil of Phidias. His greatest work was a statue of Venus.

“Myron.” A Bœotian sculptor, born about 480 B. C. His masterpieces were all in bronze. The Quoit-player and the Cow are most famous. Myron excelled in animals and figures in action.

“Euphranor.” A sculptor and painter of Athens who flourished about 360 B. C. His finest statue was a Paris, and his best paintings adorned a porch in the Ceramicus. He also wrote on proportion and colors.

P. 46.—“Polycleitus,” polˈy-cleiˌtus. A Greek sculptor who lived about 430 B. C. His statues of men are said to have surpassed those of Phidias. The Spear-bearer was a statue so perfectly proportioned that it was called the canon or rule.

“Bendis,” benˈdis; “Atthis,” atˈthis; “Men.” Local deities among the Egyptians.

“Anubis.” One of the Egyptian deities, the son of Osiris. He was represented in the form of a man with a dog’s head, or as a dog. His name meant gilded, and his images were of solid gold.

“Lysippus.” The favorite sculptor of Alexander the Great. His statues were all in bronze, and it is said reached the number of 1,500.

“Pentelicus.” A mount in Attica celebrated for its marble.

“Praxiteles.” Born at Athens B. C. 392. He worked in both marble and bronze. About fifty different works by him are mentioned. First in fame stands the Cnidian Venus, “one of the most famous art creations of antiquity.” Apollo as the lizard-killer, his Faun, and a representation of Eros are probably best known.

P. 47.—“Colossus of Rhodes.” A bronze statue of the sun which stood at the entrance of the harbor of Rhodes. It was one hundred and five feet in height, cost three hundred talents, and was twelve years in erecting. The Colossus was designed by Chares.

“Pnyx,” nĭks. The place of public assembly in Athens.

P. 48.—“Philippics.” The orations delivered by Demosthenes against Philip of Macedon.

P. 50.—“Paley,” William. (1743-1805.) An English theologian. The author of several valuable works. In the “Natural Theology” here referred to he attempts to demonstrate the existence and perfect character of God from the evidences of design in nature.

P. 51.—“Helvetius,” hĕl-veeˈshĭ-us. Claude Adrien. (1715-1771.) A French philosopher. The author of a famous work on the materialistic philosophy.

“Mellanippides,” melˌa-nipˈpi-des. A celebrated poet of Melos who lived about B. C. 440.

“Zeuxis.” A painter who lived in the latter part of the fifth century B. C. Part of his life was spent in the practice of his art in Macedonia, thence he went to Magna Græca, where at Croton he painted his masterpiece, a Helen. Zeuxis made a great fortune by his painting.

P. 61.—“Diogenes.” He came from Laërte, in Cilicia, and probably lived in the second century A. D. He is the author of “The Lives of the Philosophers,” a work in ten books. Almost nothing is known of his life.

P. 62.—“Tacitus,” tacˈi-tus. (A. D. 55-117.) A Roman historian. His histories of the condition and customs of the Britains and Germans are trustworthy accounts, written in a clear and concise style. A history of Rome is his most ambitious work. The “Germania” mentioned was a history of the origin, customs, situation and peoples of Germany.

P. 70.—“Darics,” dărˈic. The word is derived from Darius, and applied to an ancient Persian coin weighing about 128 grains, and bearing on one side the figure of an archer.

BRIEF HISTORY OF GREECE.

P. 2.—“Freeman,” Edward. (1823-⸺.) An English historian, the author of several valuable works.

P. 3.—“Amphictyonic,” am-phicˈty-ŏnˌic.

“Nabanasser,” na-bon-nasˈser. A king of Babylon, the date of whose accession was fixed by the Babylonian astronomers as the era from which they reckoned. It began February 26, B. C. 747.

“Medea,” me-deˈa. The daughter of the king of Colchi by the aid of whose charms (she was a powerful sorceress) Jason obtained the fleece.

“Alcmene,” alc-meˈne. The daughter of the king of Mycenæ. Her promised husband being absent, Jupiter assumed his form and under this disguise married her.

“Eurystheus,” eu-rysˈthe-us.

P. 4.—“Meleager,” meˌle-aˈger; “Theseus,” theˈse-us; “Calydon,” calˈy-don. An ancient city of Ætolia (see map of Greece).

“Menelaus,” menˈe-laˌus; “Agamemnon,” agˌa-memˈnon.

“Achilles,” a-chilˈles.

P. 5.—“Odyssey,” ŏdˈys-sey; “Ulysses,” u-lysˈses.

“Ithaca,” ithˈa-ca. A small island in the Ionian Sea off the coast of Epirus. “Penelope,” pe-nelˈo-pe.

“Pelops,” peˈlops. Fabled to have been the son of Jupiter. The king of Pisa in Elis from whom the peninsula of Greece, the Peloponnesus, took its name.

P. 6.—“Cyrene,” cy-reˈne; “Massilia,” mas-silˈi-a.

P. 9.—“Messenia,” mes-seˈni-a. For these wars see page 97 of History. “Cecrops,” ceˈcrops; “Codrus,” coˈdrus.

P. 10.—“Areopagus,” ăr-e-ŏpˈa-gŭs.

P. 11.—“Hippias,” hipˈpi-as; “Hipparchus,” hip-parˈchus.

“Alcmæonidæ,” alcˈmæ-onˌi-dæ; “Megacles,” megˈa-cles.

P. 13.—“Ahura Mazda,” or Ormuzd, a-huˈra mazˈda. The supreme deity of the ancient Persians.

P. 14.—“Mardonius,” mar-doˈni-us; “Athos,” aˈthos.

P. 15.—“Phidippides,” phi-dipˈpi-des.

P. 16.—“Dionysiac,” di-o-nysˈi-ac. See page 75 of History.

“Pan.” The god of flocks and shepherds among the Greeks.

P. 18.—“Demaratus,” demˈa-raˌtus.

P. 20.—“Simonides,” si-monˈi-des.

P. 21.—“Himera,” himˈe-ra. See map in History. “Gelo,” geˈlo; “Pausanius,” pau-saˈni-as; “En route,” On the way.

P. 22.—“Diodorus,” di-o-doˈrus. A historian of the time of Augustus Cæsar.

P. 24.—“Eurymedon,” eu-rymˈe-don. A small river in Pamphylia.

P. 25.—“Ephialtes,” ephˌi-alˈtes. An Athenian statesman, the friend of Pericles.

P. 27.—“Melos,” meˈlos; “Thera,” theˈra; “Corcyra,” cor-cyˈra; “Zacynthus,” za-cynˈthus; “Chios,” chiˈos; “Naupactus,” nau-pacˈtus; “Acarnania,” acˌar-naˈni-a; “Ambracia,” am-braˈci-a; “Anactorium,” an-ac-toˈri-um.

P. 28.—“Archidamus,” arˌchi-daˈmus.

“Colonus,” co-loˈnus. A demus of Attica lying about a mile northwest of Athens.

“Acharnæ,” a-charˈnæ. The chief demus of Attica, nearly seven miles north of Athens. Its people were warlike, and its land fertile.

P. 29.—“Paralus,” parˈa-lus.

P. 31.—“Alcibiades,” al-ci-biˈa-des; “Nicias,” nicˈi-as.

P. 32.—“Gylippus,” gy-lipˈpus; “Deceleia,” decˌe-leiˈa.

P. 34.—“Antalcidas,” an-talˈci-das. A Spartan statesman, through whose diplomacy this treaty was brought about.

P. 35.—“Megalopolis,” meg-a-lopˈo-lis.

P. 36.—“Mantinea,” manˌti-neˈa.

P. 37.—“Chæronea,” chær-o-neˈa.

P. 38.—“Tetradrachm,” tĕtˈra-dram. Four drachmas. An ancient silver coin, worth about 79 cents.

“Illyrians,” il-lyrˈi-ans. The inhabitants of Illyria, a country west of Macedon.

“Temple of Diana.” The Ephesian Diana personified the fructifying power of nature, and was represented as the goddess of many breasts. Of the temple the “American Encyclopædia” says: “Its (Ephesus) chief glory was its magnificent temple of Diana, and the city did not decay until the Goths destroyed the temple. The Ionian colonists found the worship of Diana established and the foundations of the temple laid.”

“Gordium.” The ancient capital of Phrygia, named from Gordius. See page 178 of Greek History.

“Callisthenes,” cal-lisˈthe-nes.

P. 39.—“Granicus,” gra-niˈcus; “Issus,” isˈsus; “Arbela,” ar-beˈla; “Persepolis,” per-sepˈo-lis.

P. 40.—“Gedrosia,” ge-droˈsi-a; “Roxana,” rox-aˈna; “Hydaspes,” hy-dasˈpes. The northernmost of the five great tributaries of the Indus.

P. 41.—“Rawlinson,” George. (1815-⸺.) An English historian and orientalist.

P. 42.—“Rameses,” ra-meˈses. The Egyptian kings of the nineteenth and twentieth dynasties, who ruled for nearly three hundred and fifty years, beginning about 1460 B. C.

“Pharos.” A lofty tower built for a light-house upon a small island off the Mediterranean coast of Egypt. The name of the island was Pharos, and was given to the tower.

“Ptolemy,” tŏlˈe-mĭ. Sator (the savior) was a title given him by the inhabitants of Rhodes, whom he had saved from a siege.

“Philadelphus.” Distinguished for brotherly love. Ptolemy had taken this title to signalize his love for his sister whom he had married, a union which Egyptian law allowed.

“Euergetes,” eu-erˈge-tes. Benefactor. This surname was given him by the Egyptians when from a campaign into Syria he brought back the idols which Cambyses had carried off to Persia.

“Septuagint,” sĕpˈtu-a-gĭnt. “So called because it was said to have been the work of seventy, or rather of seventy-two, interpreters.”

P. 43.—“Archimedes,” är-kĭ-mēˈdēz. (B. C. 287?-212.) A famous mathematician of Syracuse.

“Hero,” or Heron, heˈro. A Greek mathematician of the third century.

“Apelles,” a-pelˈles. The most famous of Grecian painters. A friend of Alexander’s, and the only painter he allowed to take his portrait.

“Hipparchus,” hip-parˈchus. Called the father of astronomy. A Greek who lived at Rhodes and Alexandria.

“Ptolemy.” A celebrated mathematician, astronomer and geographer. Of his history we know nothing, but still have a large number of his treatises on a great variety of subjects.

“Euclid,” yooˈklid. The mathematician who gave his name to the science of geometry. Nothing is known of his history.

“Eratosthenes,” erˌa-tosˈthe-nes. One of the most learned men of his day. He cultivated astronomy, geography, history, philosophy, grammar and logic. But fragments of his writings remain.

“Strabo.” A native of Pontus. Lived during the reign of Augustus. He wrote a historical work now lost, and a famous treatise on geography, in seventeen books. This latter is nearly all extant.

“Manetho,” manˈe-tho. An Egyptian priest who lived in the reign of Ptolemy I. He wrote in Greek a history of Egypt from which we have the dynasties of Egypt’s rulers saved, though the work is lost, and an account of the religion of his country.

“Aristophanes,” arˌis-tophˈa-nes. A native of Byzantium. He lived in the reigns of Ptolemy II. and III., and had control of the library of Alexander.

“Apollonius,” apˈol-loˌni-us. A native of Alexandria, sometimes called “the Rhodian,” as he was honored with franchise by Rhodes, where he taught rhetoric successfully. His greatest poem, still extant, was a description of the Argonautic expedition.

“Sosigenes,” so-sigˈe-nes. A peripatetic philosopher of Alexandria.

“Origen,” orˈi-gen. (185?-254?) One of the most voluminous of early Christian writers.

“Athanasius,” athˌa-naˈsi-us. (296?-373.) A native of Alexandria, made archbishop of the city in 326. He was subject to great persecution from the Arians who held that Christ was a being inferior to God, while Athanasius held to the orthodox belief.

“Antiochus,” an-tiˈo-chus; “Seleucidæ,” se-leuˈci-dæ.

P. 44.—“Eumenes,” euˈme-nes; “Arsacidæ,” ar-saˈci-dæ; “Brennus,” brenˈnus.

P. 45.—“Justinian,” jus-tinˈi-an. Byzantine emperor.

“Antiochus,” an-tiˈo-chus. Of Ascalon. The founder of the Fifth Academy, and the teacher of Cicero while he studied at Athens. He had a school at Alexandria, and one in Syria also.

“Ptolemæum,” ptolˈe-mæˌum. A large gymnasium built by Ptolemy Philadelphus.

“Dipylum.” A gate on the northwestern side of the city wall. So called because consisting of two gates. It is the only one whose site is absolutely certain.

“Speusippus,” speu-sipˈpus. An Athenian philosopher. A nephew of Plato, whom he succeeded as president of the First Academy.

“Xenocrates,” xe-nocˈra-tes. (396-314 B. C.) A philosopher who succeeded Speusippus as president of the Academy.

“Polemon,” polˈe-mon. The Athenian philosopher who succeeded Xenocrates as president of the Academy.

P. 46.—“Autochthon,” au-tokˈthon; “Phratries,” phrāˈtres; “Apollo Patrôus,” pa-trôˈus.

“Ion,” iˈon. Fabled to have been the ancestor of the Ionians, from whom they took their name.

P. 48.—“Lucian,” lūˈshan. See page 65 of History. “Menippus,” me-nipˈpus; “Strepsiades,” strep-siˈa-des.

P. 50.—“Ion.” Of Ephesus. One of Plato’s dialogues is named from him.

P. 51.—“Tyrtæus,” tyr-tæˈus.

P. 52.—“Lesbian,” lesˈbi-an. From Lesbos. A large island off the coast of Asia Minor.

“Alcæus,” al-cæˈus; “Anacreon,” a-naˈcre-on.

“Christopher North.” The _nom de plume_ of John Wilson, a Scottish author. (1785-1854.)

“Dionysos,” di-o-nyˈsus.

P. 53.—“Thespis,” thesˈpis; “Trilogy,” trĭlˈo-gy.

P. 54.—“Prometheus,” pro-meˈthe-us.

P. 55.—“Jocasta,” jo-casˈta.

P. 59.—“Halicarnassus,” halˌi-car-nasˈsus. See map.

P. 62.—“Thales,” thaˈles; “Anaximander,” a-naxˈi-manˌder; “Anaxagoras,” anˈax-agˌo-ras; “Hippocrates,” hip-pocˈra-tes; “Pythagoras,” py-thagˈo-ras; “Crotona,” cro-toˈna.

P. 63.—“Marsyas,” marˈsy-as. A satyr who had found a flute discarded by Athene, which emitted beautiful sounds of its own accord. Elated he challenged Apollo to a musical contest, but was defeated. Apollo flayed him alive for his presumption in contesting with him.

P. 65.—“Antisthenes,” an-tisˈthe-nes.

“Ceramicus,” cerˈa-miˌcus. A district of Athens, so called from Ceramus, the son of Bacchus, some say, but more probably from the potter’s art invented there.

P. 69.—“Alpheus,” al-pheˈus. The chief river of the Peloponnesus. See map.

“Choragic,” cho-răgˈic; “Lysicrates,” ly-sicˈra-tes. In 355 B. C. Lysicrates was chosen choragus (p. 76) and took the prize. In honor of this event he erected this monument.

“Callimachus,” cal-limˈa-chus. An architect and statuary, who probably lived about 400 B. C. Very little is known of his life.

P. 70.—“Propylea,” propˌy-leˈa; “Apollodorus,” a-polˈlo-doˈrus (440 B. C.); “Rembrandt,” rĕmˈbrănt (1607-1669). A famous Dutch painter. “Parrhasius,” par-rhaˈsi-us (400 B. C.).

P. 71.—“Protogenes,” pro-togˈe-nes (330 B. C.); “Nicias,” nicˈi-as (320 B. C.); “Pausias,” pauˈsi-as (360 B. C.); “Scopas,” scoˈpas (395-350 B. C.).

“Niobe,” niˈo-be. The subject is the vengeance of Apollo and Artemis upon the Theban Queen Niobe, who boasted that because of her fourteen children she was superior to Leda, who had but two. As a punishment all her children were destroyed.

“Mausoleum,” mau-so-lēˈum. A monument built over the remains of Mausolus, king of Caria, by his wife Artemesia.

P. 72.—“Poseidon,” po-seiˈdon; “Demeter,” de-meˈter; “Hestia,” hesˈtia; “Hephæstos,” he-phæsˈtos; “Aphrodite,” aphˈro-diˌte.

P. 73.—“Ariadne,” a-ri-adˈne; “Hesperides,” hes-perˈi-des; “Mnemosyne,” mne-mosˈy-ne; “Parnassus,” par-nasˈsus; “Clio,” cliˈo; “Melpomene,” mel-pomˈe-ne; “Thalia,” thaˈli-a; “Calliope,” cal-liˈo-pe; “Urania,” u-raˈni-a; “Euterpe,” eu-terˈpe; “Polyhymnia,” polˈy-hymˌni-a; “Erato,” erˈa-to; “Terpsichore,” terp-sichˈo-re.

“Dodona,” do-doˈna. In Epirus.

P. 75.—“Panathenaia,” pan-athˌe-naiˈa.

“Erechtheium,” erˈech-theiˌum. So called because Erechtheus, a former king of Athens, was said to have been buried there.

“Athene Polias.” The name given to Athene when she was represented as protectress of the state.

P. 77.—“Kallirhoë,” kal-lirˈho-ë. A famous well of Athens, still called by its ancient name.

P. 78.—“Obolus,” ŏbˈo-lŭs. A small silver coin, worth about three cents.

“Cinerary,” cinˈer-a-ry. The word means pertaining to ashes, and was applied to those urns used by the ancients to hold the ashes of the dead.

P. 80.—“Gizeh,” jeeˈzeh, or geeˈzeh. A village of Egypt three miles from Cairo. The three great pyramids are but five miles from Gizeh.

“Labyrinth.” The one here referred to was at Arsinoë, in Egypt.

P. 81.—“Hippodrome,” hipˈpo-drome; “Platanistæ,” plat-a-nisˈtæ; “Eurytus,” euˈry-tus; “Aristodemus,” a-risˈto-deˈmus.

P. 82.—“Cynosarges,” cynˈo-sarˌges. A gymnasium built for Athenians born of foreign mothers.

“Antisthenes,” an-tisˈthe-nes.

“Lycabettus,” lyc-a-betˈtus. A mountain northeast of Athens and close to the wall.

P. 93.—“Epidaurus,” epˈi-dauˈrus; “Trœzen,” trœ-zenˈ; “Phlius,” phliˈus; “Sicyon,” sishˈi-on; “Malea,” ma-leˈa; “Pheidon,” phiˈdon.

P. 94.—“Eurysthenes,” eu-rysˈthe-nes. “Procles,” proˈcles.

P. 96.—“Carystus,” ca-rysˈtus. A town on the southern coast of Eubœa.

“Diagorids,” di-agˈo-rids. So called from Diagoras, of Rhodes, the first of the family who distinguished himself in the Grecian games.

“Aristomenes,” ar-is-tomˈe-nes. See page 99 of History.

P. 97.—“Prytaneum,” prytˈa-nēˌum. “A public hall in Athens regarded as the home of the city, in which the duties of hospitality were exercised on behalf of the city to its own citizens and strangers.”

P. 98.—“Amphia,” am-phiˈa; “Ithome,” i-thoˈme; “Theopompus,” theˈo-pomˈpus.

P. 99.—“Stenyclaros,” stenˈy-claˌros.

P. 100.—“Ceadas,” ceˈa-das; “Rhegium,” rheˈgi-um.

“Bacchiad.” So called from Bacchis, king of Corinth. They had held the supreme power for a long time.

P. 101.—“Eëtion,” e-eˈti-on.

“Lapithæ,” lapˈi-thæ. So called from their ancestor, Lapithes. They were inhabitants of Thessaly, and are fabled to have fought with the Centaurs and defeated them. “Cypselus,” cypˈse-lus.

P. 102.—“Thrasybulus,” thrasˌy-buˈlus; “Lycophron,” lycˈo-phron.

P. 103.—“Sancho Panza,” sănkˈo pănˈza. The esquire of Don Quixote. “Eupatrids,” eūˈpa-trĭd.

P. 104.—“Stadium,” stāˈdi-ŭm. A Greek measure of length of a little over six hundred feet. “Theagenes,” the-agˈe-nes.

P. 105.—“Diasia,” di-aˈsi-a. The name is derived from the Greek word for god and means pertaining to the god.

“Prytanes,” prytˈa-nes. A member of one of the ten sections into which the senate was divided.

P. 106.—“Eumenides,” eu-menˈi-des. The avenging deities, or the Furies. “Geomori,” ge-omˈo-ri.

P. 109.—“Hyperakrians,” hyˌper-akˈri-ans.

“Pediaian,” ped-iˈai-an; “Paralian,” par-aˈli-an.