We arrived, and entered the ancient harbor of the Piraeus at last.  We dropped anchor within half a mile of the village.  Away off, across the undulating Plain of Attica, could be seen a little square-topped hill with a something on it, which our glasses soon discovered to be the ruined edifices of the citadel of the Athenians, and most prominent among them loomed the venerable Parthenon.  So exquisitely clear and pure is this wonderful atmosphere that every column of the noble structure was discernible through the telescope, and even the smaller ruins about it assumed some semblance of shape.  This at a distance of five or six miles.  In the valley, near the Acropolis, (the square-topped hill before spoken of,) Athens itself could be vaguely made out with an ordinary lorgnette.  Every body was anxious to get ashore and visit these classic localities as quickly as possible.  No land we had yet seen had aroused such universal interest among the passengers.

But bad news came.  The commandant of the Piraeus came in his boat, and said we must either depart or else get outside the harbor and remain imprisoned in our ship, under rigid quarantine, for eleven days!  So we took up the anchor and moved outside, to lie a dozen hours or so, taking in supplies, and then sail for Constantinople.  It was the bitterest disappointment we had yet experienced.  To lie a whole day in sight of the Acropolis, and yet be obliged to go away without visiting Athens!  Disappointment was hardly a strong enough word to describe the circumstances.

All hands were on deck, all the afternoon, with books and maps and glasses, trying to determine which “narrow rocky ridge” was the Areopagus, which sloping hill the Pnyx, which elevation the Museum Hill, and so on.  And we got things confused.  Discussion became heated, and party spirit ran high.  Church members were gazing with emotion upon a hill which they said was the one St. Paul preached from, and another faction claimed that that hill was Hymettus, and another that it was Pentelicon!  After all the trouble, we could be certain of only one thing—­the square-topped hill was the Acropolis, and the grand ruin that crowned it was the Parthenon, whose picture we knew in infancy in the school books.

We inquired of every body who came near the ship, whether there were guards in the Piraeus, whether they were strict, what the chances were of capture should any of us slip ashore, and in case any of us made the venture and were caught, what would be probably done to us?  The answers were discouraging:  There was a strong guard or police force; the Piraeus was a small town, and any stranger seen in it would surely attract attention—­capture would be certain.  The commandant said the punishment would be “heavy;” when asked “how heavy?” he said it would be “very severe”—­that was all we could get out of him.