Besides various establishments and small “wrestling schools” for the boys, there are three great public Gymnasia at Athens,—­the Lyceum to the east of the town; the Cynosarges[*] to the southward; and last, but at all least, the Academy.  This is the handsomest, the most famous, the most characteristic.  We shall do well to visit it.

[*]The Cynosarges was the only one of these freely opened to such Athenians as had non-Athenian mothers.  The other two were reserved for the strictly “full citizens.”

138.  The Road to the Academy.—­We go out toward the northwest of the city, plunging soon into a labyrinth of garden walls, fragrant with the fruit and blossoms within, wander amid dark olive groves where the solemn leaves of the sacred trees are talking sweetly; and presently mount a knoll by some suburban farm buildings, then look back to find that slight as is the elevation, here is a view of marvelous beauty across the city, the Acropolis, and the guardian mountains.  From the rustling ivy coverts come the melodious notes of birds.  We are glad to learn that this is the suburb of Colonus, the home of Sophocles the tragedian, and here is the very spot made famous in the renowned chorus of his “idipous at Colonus.”  It is too early, of course, to enjoy the nightingale which the poet asserts sings often amid the branches, but the scene is one of marvelous charm.  We are not come, however, to admire Colonus.  The numerous strollers indicate our direction.  Turning a little to the south, we see, embowered amid the olive groves which line the unseen stream of the Cephissos, a wall, and once beyond it find ourselves in a kind of spacious park combined with an athletic establishment.  This is the Academy,—­founded by Hipparchus, son of Peisistratus the tyrant, but given its real embellishments and beauty by Cimon, the son of Militiades the victor of Marathon.

139.  The Academy.—­The Academy is worthy of the visit.  The park itself is covered with olive trees and more graceful plane trees.  The grass beneath us is soft and delightful to the bare foot (and nearly everybody, we observe, has taken off his sandals).  There are marble and bronze statues skillfully distributed amid the shrubbery—­shy nymphs, peeping fauns, bold satyrs.  Yonder is a spouting fountain surmounted by a noble Poseidon with his trident; above the next fountain rides the ocean car of Amphitrite.  Presently we come to a series of low buildings.  Entering, we find them laid out in a quadrangle with porticoes on every side, somewhat like the promenades around the Agora.  Inside the promenades open a series of ample rooms for the use of professional athletes during stormy weather, and for the inevitable bathing and anointing with oil which will follow all exercise.  This great square court formed by the “gymnasium” proper is swarming with interesting humanity, but we pass it hastily in order to depart by an exit on the inner side and discover a second more conventionally