The straight highroad is swarming with traffic:  clumsy wagons are bringing down marble from the mountains; other wains are headed toward Athens with lumber and bales of foreign wares.  Countless donkeys laden with panniers are being flogged along.  A great deal of the carrying is done by half-naked sweating porters; for, after all, slave-flesh is almost as cheap as beast-flesh.  So by degrees the two walls open away from us:  before us now expands the humming port town; we catch the sniff of the salt brine, and see the tangle of spars of the multifarious shipping.  Right ahead, however, dominating the whole scene, is a craggy height,—­the hill of Munychia, crowned with strong fortifications, and with houses rising terrace above terrace upon its slopes.  At the very summit glitters in its white marble and color work the temple of Artemis Munychia, the guardian goddess of the port town and its citadel.[*]

[*]This fortress of Munychia, rather than the Acropolis in Athens was the real citadel of Attica.  It dominated the all-important harbors on which the very life of the state depended.

99.  Munychia and the Havens of Athens.—­Making our way up a steep lane upon the northwestern slope, we pass within the fortifications, the most formidable near Athens.  A band of young ephebi of the garrison eye us as we enter; but we seem neither Spartans nor Thebans and are not molested.  From a convenient crag near the temple, the whole scheme of the harbors of Athens is spread out before us, two hundred and eighty odd feet below.  Behind us is the familiar plain of Athens with the city, the Acropolis, and the guardian mountains.  Directly west lies the expanse of roof of the main harbor town, and then beyond is the smooth blue expanse of the “Port of the Peireus,” the main mercantile harbor of Athens.  Running straight down from Munychia, southwest, the land tapers off into a rocky promontory, entirely girt with strong fortifications.  In this stretch of land are two deep round indentations.  Cups of bright water they seem, communicating with the outer sea only by narrow entrances which are dominated by stout castles.  “Zea” is the name of the more remote; the “haven” of “Munychia” is that which seems opening almost at our feet.  These both are full of the naval shipping, whereof more hereafter.  To the eastward, and stretching down the coast, is a long sandy beach whereon the blue ripples are crumbling between the black fishing boats drawn up upon the strand.  This is Phaleron, the old harbor of Athens before Themistocles fortified the “Peireus”—­merely an open roadstead in fact, but still very handy for small craft, which can be hauled up promptly to escape the tempest.