DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.4593#0335
308 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
hitches in lashing burdens. There is nothing, whether
it be a load of timber, water casks, brush-wood,
or crockery, that a good agogiat cannot pack on
the animal's back and fasten in a style akin to the
" diamond hitch " of our northwestern muleteer.
My agogiat on this trip bore the distinguished
name of the "All holy Luke" (Panagiotes Loukas
Kapellou), and seemed to me to be worthy of the
title. He was a strong, heavy-built man, a little
over fifty years of age, cosmopolitan in dress. Though
he did not wear the fustanella skirt, he trod the soil
in Greek shoes and leggings. His long blue and
white peasant blouse coming to the knees was but-
toned down the middle and corded round the waist.
His large head, with a frank, open, full-bearded face,
was crowned with a straw hat. Without excep-
tion he had the best looking mule that I saw in
Greece, — a strong, round, sleek animal, well fed and
well bred. The saddle was actually provided with
stirrups, and instead of the usual narrow strap which
cuts and irritates the animal the breeching band was
as broad as my hand.
Leaving Delphi we rode through a large olive grove
belonging to Panagiotes; the trees seemed as well
kept as the mule. The nightingales were singing
joyfully. Clear, eager streams crossed our paths,
some of them thriftily diverted into the olive groves
for irrigation. Leaving the groves the path ascended
long steep hills, from the highest of which after a
ride of two hours we had a fine view of Arachova on
the left. I was glad about nine o'clock of a slice of
the brown bread which Panagiotes carried in his
wallet. About noon we reached Distomo, a little
hitches in lashing burdens. There is nothing, whether
it be a load of timber, water casks, brush-wood,
or crockery, that a good agogiat cannot pack on
the animal's back and fasten in a style akin to the
" diamond hitch " of our northwestern muleteer.
My agogiat on this trip bore the distinguished
name of the "All holy Luke" (Panagiotes Loukas
Kapellou), and seemed to me to be worthy of the
title. He was a strong, heavy-built man, a little
over fifty years of age, cosmopolitan in dress. Though
he did not wear the fustanella skirt, he trod the soil
in Greek shoes and leggings. His long blue and
white peasant blouse coming to the knees was but-
toned down the middle and corded round the waist.
His large head, with a frank, open, full-bearded face,
was crowned with a straw hat. Without excep-
tion he had the best looking mule that I saw in
Greece, — a strong, round, sleek animal, well fed and
well bred. The saddle was actually provided with
stirrups, and instead of the usual narrow strap which
cuts and irritates the animal the breeching band was
as broad as my hand.
Leaving Delphi we rode through a large olive grove
belonging to Panagiotes; the trees seemed as well
kept as the mule. The nightingales were singing
joyfully. Clear, eager streams crossed our paths,
some of them thriftily diverted into the olive groves
for irrigation. Leaving the groves the path ascended
long steep hills, from the highest of which after a
ride of two hours we had a fine view of Arachova on
the left. I was glad about nine o'clock of a slice of
the brown bread which Panagiotes carried in his
wallet. About noon we reached Distomo, a little