DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.4593#0323
298 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
From the gulf, Parnassus, being one of a range of
peaks, does not seem so high as it really is. The
snow that lay on it was a warning that an ascent would
not be advisable. At Itea I hired a tough pony with
a boy, another Greek Nicholas, for a guide. The
moon rose beautifully as we crossed the plain wind-
ing through olive groves. After an hour in the valley
the road steadily ascended, for Delphi is some two
thousand feet above the sea. We passed through the
picturesque village of Chryso, its white houses bril-
liantly illumined by the full moon. A clear stream of
water through which my pony splashed flowed down
one of the narrow streets. Men and women in the
doorways responded to my greeting.
The village of Delphi was set on the steep moun-
tain-side. It added much to the mystic spell
of the old oracle ..to approach the plac? by night.
The bright moon flooding the valley and silvering
the gulf, the deep shadows of the great cliffs, the
water rushing through the narrow gorge between
them, the dark masses of olives below, the ominous
silence broken only by the voice of the fountain, the
remoteness of every suggestion of modern life, — all
seemed to harbor deep and hidden mysteries which
might find utterance in some new-old oracle.
There is no inn at Delphi, but I found accommoda-
tion in the house of the keeper of antiquities, Paras-
kevas. With more faith in the Christian than in the
pagan tradition he asked me if I would please allow
the lamp to burn under the icon of the Virgin in a
niche in my chamber. I respected his piety and was
blessed with dreamless sleep.
I rose at half-past four, and after a breakfast of
From the gulf, Parnassus, being one of a range of
peaks, does not seem so high as it really is. The
snow that lay on it was a warning that an ascent would
not be advisable. At Itea I hired a tough pony with
a boy, another Greek Nicholas, for a guide. The
moon rose beautifully as we crossed the plain wind-
ing through olive groves. After an hour in the valley
the road steadily ascended, for Delphi is some two
thousand feet above the sea. We passed through the
picturesque village of Chryso, its white houses bril-
liantly illumined by the full moon. A clear stream of
water through which my pony splashed flowed down
one of the narrow streets. Men and women in the
doorways responded to my greeting.
The village of Delphi was set on the steep moun-
tain-side. It added much to the mystic spell
of the old oracle ..to approach the plac? by night.
The bright moon flooding the valley and silvering
the gulf, the deep shadows of the great cliffs, the
water rushing through the narrow gorge between
them, the dark masses of olives below, the ominous
silence broken only by the voice of the fountain, the
remoteness of every suggestion of modern life, — all
seemed to harbor deep and hidden mysteries which
might find utterance in some new-old oracle.
There is no inn at Delphi, but I found accommoda-
tion in the house of the keeper of antiquities, Paras-
kevas. With more faith in the Christian than in the
pagan tradition he asked me if I would please allow
the lamp to burn under the icon of the Virgin in a
niche in my chamber. I respected his piety and was
blessed with dreamless sleep.
I rose at half-past four, and after a breakfast of