In the neighborhood of one o’clock in the morning, when we were heated with fast walking and parched with thirst, Denny exclaimed, “Why, these weeds are grape-vines!” and in five minutes we had a score of bunches of large, white, delicious grapes, and were reaching down for more when a dark shape rose mysteriously up out of the shadows beside us and said “Ho!” And so we left.

In ten minutes more we struck into a beautiful road, and unlike some others we had stumbled upon at intervals, it led in the right direction.  We followed it.  It was broad, and smooth, and white—­handsome and in perfect repair, and shaded on both sides for a mile or so with single ranks of trees, and also with luxuriant vineyards.  Twice we entered and stole grapes, and the second time somebody shouted at us from some invisible place.  Whereupon we left again.  We speculated in grapes no more on that side of Athens.

Shortly we came upon an ancient stone aqueduct, built upon arches, and from that time forth we had ruins all about us—­we were approaching our journey’s end.  We could not see the Acropolis now or the high hill, either, and I wanted to follow the road till we were abreast of them, but the others overruled me, and we toiled laboriously up the stony hill immediately in our front—­and from its summit saw another—­climbed it and saw another!  It was an hour of exhausting work.  Soon we came upon a row of open graves, cut in the solid rock—­(for a while one of them served Socrates for a prison)—­we passed around the shoulder of the hill, and the citadel, in all its ruined magnificence, burst upon us!  We hurried across the ravine and up a winding road, and stood on the old Acropolis, with the prodigious walls of the citadel towering above our heads.  We did not stop to inspect their massive blocks of marble, or measure their height, or guess at their extraordinary thickness, but passed at once through a great arched passage like a railway tunnel, and went straight to the gate that leads to the ancient temples.  It was locked!  So, after all, it seemed that we were not to see the great Parthenon face to face.  We sat down and held a council of war.  Result:  the gate was only a flimsy structure of wood—­we would break it down.  It seemed like desecration, but then we had traveled far, and our necessities were urgent.  We could not hunt up guides and keepers—­we must be on the ship before daylight.  So we argued.  This was all very fine, but when we came to break the gate, we could not do it.  We moved around an angle of the wall and found a low bastion—­eight feet high without—­ten or twelve within.  Denny prepared to scale it, and we got ready to follow.  By dint of hard scrambling he finally straddled the top, but some loose stones crumbled away and fell with a crash into the court within.  There was instantly a banging of doors and a shout.  Denny dropped from the wall in a twinkling, and we retreated in disorder to the gate.  Xerxes took that mighty citadel four hundred and eighty years before Christ, when his five millions of soldiers and camp-followers followed him to Greece, and if we four Americans could have remained unmolested five minutes longer, we would have taken it too.