than ten minutes.  Prokesch saw l00 such tumuli.  The largest, tomb of Alyattes, still measures 3400 feet in circumference, and the length of its slope is 650 feet.  According to Prokesch, gigantic Phallus columns lie on some of these graves.]

“What can those strange-looking earth-heaps mean?” said Darius, the leader of the troop, to Prexaspes, Cambyses’ envoy, who rode at his side.

“They are the graves of former Lydian kings,” was the answer.  “The middle one is in memory of the princely pair Panthea and Abradatas, and the largest, that one to the left, was erected to the father of Croesus, Alyattes.  It was raised by the tradesmen, mechanics, and girls, to their late king, and on the five columns, which stand on its summit, you can read how much each of these classes contributed to the work.  The girls were the most industrious.  Gyges’ grandfather is said to have been their especial friend.”

“Then the grandson must have degenerated very much from the old stock.”

“Yes, and that seems the more remarkable, because Croesus himself in his youth was by no means averse to women, and the Lydians generally are devoted to such pleasures.  You see the white walls of that temple yonder in the midst of its sacred grove.  That is the temple of the goddess of Sardis, Cybele or Ma, as they call her.  In that grove there is many a sheltered spot where the young people of Sardis meet, as they say, in honor of their goddess.”

“Just as in Babylon, at the festival of Mylitta.”

“There is the same custom too on the coast of Cyprus.  When I landed there on the way back from Egypt, I was met by a troop of lovely girls, who, with songs, dances, and the clang of cymbals, conducted me to the sacred grove of their goddess.”

“Well, Zopyrus will not grumble at Bartja’s illness.”

“He will spend more of his time in the grove of Cybele, than at his patient’s bedside.  How glad I shall be to see that jolly fellow again!”

“Yes, he’ll keep you from falling into those melancholy fits that you have been so subject to lately.”  “You are quite right to blame me for those fits, and I must not yield to them, but they are not without ground.  Croesus says we only get low-spirited, when we are either too lazy or too weak to struggle against annoyances, and I believe he is right.  But no one shall dare to accuse Darius of weakness or idleness.  If I can’t rule the world, at least I will be my own master.”  And as he said these words, the handsome youth drew himself up, and sat erect in his saddle.  His companion gazed in wonder at him.

“Really, you son of Hystaspes,” he said, “I believe you must be meant for something great.  It was not by chance that, when you were still a mere child, the gods sent their favorite Cyrus that dream which induced him to order you into safe keeping.”

“And yet my wings have never appeared.”

“No bodily ones, certainly; but mental ones, likely enough.  Young man, young man, you’re on a dangerous road.”