came he took leave of us, and went his way by night." To my mind, words
of wonderful suggestiveness. You see the wild, eastern landscape, upon
which the sun has set. There are the Hellenes, safe for the moment on
their long march, and there the mountain tribesman, the serviceable
barbarian, going away, alone, with his tempting guerdon, into the hazards
of the darkness.

Also in the fourth book, another picture moves one in another way. Among
the Carduchian Hills two men were seized, and information was sought from
them about the track to be followed. "One of them would say nothing, and
kept silence in spite of every threat; so, in the presence of his
companion, he was slain. Thereupon that other made known the man's
reason for refusing to point out the way; in the direction the Greeks
must take there dwelt a daughter of his, who was married."

It would not be easy to express more pathos than is conveyed in these few
words. Xenophon himself, one may be sure, did not feel it quite as we
do, but he preserved the incident for its own sake, and there, in a line
or two, shines something of human love and sacrifice, significant for all
time.



X.


I sometimes think I will go and spend the sunny half of a twelvemonth in
wandering about the British Isles. There is so much of beauty and
interest that I have not seen, and I grudge to close my eyes on this
beloved home of ours, leaving any corner of it unvisited. Often I wander