“Thence what the lofty grave tragedians taught

In chorus or iambic, teachers best

Of moral prudence, with delight received

In brief sententious precepts, while they treat

Of fate, and chance, and change in human life.”

John Milton.

The first rays of sunlight were gilding the pillared temples of the city as the procession for the Eleusinian Mysteries filed through the Dipylon Gate. It was the fifth day of celebration, the previous four having been spent at Athens in listening to formal proclamations, taking vows, undergoing purification and being crowned with garlands as emblems of initiation. Light were the hearts of the youths and maidens as with singing and dancing they wended their way carrying cists containing offerings to Demeter and Dionysus. At the head of the procession was carried a statue of the infant Iacchos, a form of Dionysus.

Many of the female celebrants rode in carriages as the journey was a long fatiguing one despite the many stops made. Zopyrus walked beside an open litter in which sat Cleodice and Eumetis.
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“My children,” said Cleodice smiling, “these mystæ are celebrating your betrothal though they know it not! I regret so much that Pasicles was unable to be with us, but he has invoked the blessing of Hymen upon you. The nuptials will be solemnized immediately upon our return from Eleusis.”

Eumetis glanced shyly at the young man who strode beside the carriage. He had not looked well lately. There was something drawn and haggard about his features.

“I fear these days of initiation into the Mysteries are proving too strenuous for you, Zopyrus. You do not look yourself today,” said Eumetis with concern.

“It is nothing,” replied Zopyrus, “but I shall be glad when these rites are over.”

“For more reasons than one surely,” laughed Cleodice. “I remember how impatient your father,” turning to her daughter, “was when it was necessary to wait till the close of the Nemean games to celebrate our marriage.”
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Zopyrus turned to survey the landscape which lay all green and gold about him. The familiarity of the scene at this point came to him as a shock. There to the right lay the olive-grove and there, he could mistake it not, was the same tree beneath whose gnarled branches he had laid his precious burden on that day which would live forever in his memory. Again he seemed to feel the weight of her unconscious body; again he observed the beauty, winning seriousness and refinement of her features and yet once again he imagined he heard her ask if he were not a disguised Greek soldier! It was with an effort that he forced these memories from him. A year had passed and he would probably never see her again. She must have perished during the months that followed the battle of Salamis as many Greeks had. It was folly, he resolved, to waste one’s life in vain regrets. He was about to take as his wife a chaste girl of excellent parentage, whose love was wholly his, and he would do his best to make her happy! As they passed the path to the southward where he and the maiden had turned to view the battle from the promontory, he turned his eyes resolutely to the anxious countenance of Eumetis and smiled, seeking to forget that which would force itself uppermost in his consciousness. He partially succeeded, for the eyes of the maiden, so full of loving regard, gave him a promise of undying affection. He placed his hand over hers as it lay on the side of the carriage, then suddenly he stopped as if struck by an arrow.

Upon his ears in solemn cadence fell again the hymn to Dionysus, the pæan of joy which had miraculously saved Greece. It was now being sung for the first time since that memorable event. Every voice that helped to swell the triumphal song, thrilled with irrepressible ecstasy. Only in the heart of one did sadness mingle with joy.

“What is the matter, Zopyrus? You are ill! Mother, stop a moment! I can walk as far as the fountain of Kallichoros while Zopyrus takes my seat in the carriage.”

Zopyrus quickly gained control of his emotions.

“Foolish girl,” he said with mock severity, “do you think I would ride while you walked? I assure you I am perfectly well. The fountain is just now in sight where we shall rest and enjoy a little jest and merry-making.”
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The voices and innumerable instruments which had filled the heavens with harmony ceased their music. Vast masses of clouds which swept the sky, alternately unveiled and eclipsed the sun. A crisp breeze sprang from the sea, so that the mystæ proceeded along their way after a short stop, desirous of reaching the Fountain of Kallichoros before the storm which threatened should break. Their hopes were more than realized. The sun peeped out from behind a cloud just as they reached Eleusis by the sea, and shone directly above the gleaming temple to Demeter. With its magic rays it lit up the whole sacred precinct. First were visible the propolæa and the small temple of Pluto. To the left was the Telesterion, a large covered building adjoining which was the sacred temple to the goddess Demeter, where only those were admitted who had received full initiation.

“This is the sacred temple,” whispered Cleodice who already assumed the office of mystagogue, “and beyond, where you see the waving field of corn, lies the Rharian Plain where Demeter first sowed corn. Still farther is the field called O............