be consulted: place us where you will!'"

"O wise Cimon!" exclaimed Aristides, "I have no caution to bestow on
you. You do by intuition that which I attempt by experience. But hark!
What music sounds in the distance? the airs that Lydia borrowed from
the East?"

"And for which," said Cimon, sarcastically, "Pausanias hath abandoned
the Dorian flute."

Soft, airy, and voluptuous were indeed the sounds which now, from the
streets leading upwards from the quay, floated along the delicious
air. The sailors rose, listening and eager, from the decks; there was
once more bustle, life, and animation on board the fleet. From several
of the vessels the trumpets woke a sonorous signal-note. In a few
minutes the quays, before so deserted, swarmed with the Grecian
mariners, who emerged hastily, whether from various houses in the
haven, or from the encampment which stretched along it, and hurried
to their respective ships. On board the galley of Pausanias there was
more especial animation; not only mariners, but slaves, evidently
from the Eastern markets, were seen, jostling each other, and heard
talking, quick and loud, in foreign tongues. Rich carpets were
unfurled and laid across the deck, while trembling and hasty hands
smoothed into yet more graceful folds the curtains that shaded the
gay pavilion in the centre. The Athenians looked on, the one with
thoughtful composure, the other with a bitter smile, while these
preparations announced the unexpected, and not undreaded, approach of
the great Pausanias.

"Ho, noble Cimon!" cried a young man who, hurrying towards one of the