nham. "I've eaten your bread,"--he
had dinner with us after he had got all right again, and we had settled
down into that general routine in which our meals were attended to with
the strictest punctuality--"and I shall never forget you have saved my
life. By that bread I have eaten, I will repay you, I swear!"

Then turning to Bob and I, who were sitting on each side of him, and
Rollo, who stuck close to him, as if under the idea that having saved
him he was now his property--"And much thanks to you, little Englishmen,
and your dogs I vill nevare forget, no nevare!"

He couldn't speak English as well as French. The evening had closed
now, so Captain Buncombe told the crew to get the boat ready, and the
Greek with many more fervent expressions of gratitude, was rowed ashore.

The next morning we had landed and after pottering about the port
proceeded up to Athens, which much disappointed all of us, especially
dad and the captain. It had a garish and stucco-like appearance; while
the people looked as if they were costumed for a fancy ball, being not
apparently at home in their national dress, picturesque though it was.
It was quite nightmarish for Bob and me to read the names on the shop
fronts in the streets, and see the newspapers printed in the old Greek
characters. Fancy "Modiste," and "Perruquier," as they will have the
French terms spelt, in the letters sacred to Euripides and Xenophon. It
seemed like walking in a dream!

We had inspected Athens, as I've said, and visited the plain of
Marathon, which was offered by the Greeks to Lord Byron for sixteen
thousand piastres, or about eight hundred pounds--alas for glory!--and
returned on board the yacht for dinner again, when we were told that a
messenger had been off in our absence and left a parcel for us. What do
you think it contained? Guess.

Well, there was a splendid shawl, worth more than a hundred guineas, for
Captain Buncombe, and a handsome jewelled pipe for dad; while Mr Joe
Moynham had a case of Greek wines for his special self!

Bob and I were not forgotten either. He had a fine gun, with the stock
inlaid with ivory, and carved beautifully; and I, a yataghan, decorated
with a jewelled hilt, that was even more valuable than dad's pipe.
Rollo was presented with a grand gold collar, which Mr Joe Moynham said
was like the one that Malachi, one of the Irish kings, wore in the days
of Brian Boru; and, if you please, a lot of little purses, each
con