. The New England magazine . An Argos Letter Carrier. Immediately back of the town, I cameupon the steep citadel hill. On its side near the foot lay the old theatre, with itsrock-hewn seats worn by many genera-tions, and yet more by the noiselessfoot of time. This isthe very theatre whereHorace makes his lonevisitor applaud won-derful tragedies, whoseactors and audienceswere, even in his day,things of the shadowypast; but in a spotwith such a historyit would require nospecial imagination tocatch echoes of theeloquence and ap-plause that once re-sounded up and downthese long-time silentand empt
. The New England magazine . An Argos Letter Carrier. Immediately back of the town, I cameupon the steep citadel hill. On its side near the foot lay the old theatre, with itsrock-hewn seats worn by many genera-tions, and yet more by the noiselessfoot of time. This isthe very theatre whereHorace makes his lonevisitor applaud won-derful tragedies, whoseactors and audienceswere, even in his day,things of the shadowypast; but in a spotwith such a historyit would require nospecial imagination tocatch echoes of theeloquence and ap-plause that once re-sounded up and downthese long-time silentand empty spaces. Farther up I passeda family group of nine,six of them women andsant Girl. children, all busy reap- ing the golden hot and rapid climb brought me atlength within the citadel. Here and thereabout me were yawning openings intogreat cisterns that of old slaked the thirstof the garrison. I had become familiarwith such mouths of cisterns on many afortified mountain-top farther east. Theyare fearful pitfalls for t
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookidnewenglandma, bookyear1887
