CHAPTER I
WONDERLAND
The story of Greece began long, long ago in a strange
wonderland of beauty. Woods and winds, fields and rivers,
each had a pathway which led upward and onward into the
beautiful land. Sometimes indeed no path was needed, for
the rivers, woods, and lone hill-sides were themselves the
wonderland of which I am going to tell.
In the woods and winds, in the trees and rivers, dwelt the gods and goddesses whom the people of long ago worshipped. It was their presence in the world that made it so great, so wide, so wonderful.
To the Hellenes, for that is the name by which the Greeks called themselves, there were eyes, living eyes in flowers, trees, and water. 'So crowded full is the air with them,' wrote one poet who lived in the far-off days, 'that there is no room to put in the spike of an ear of corn without touching one.'
When the wind blew soft, the Hellenes listened to the whispering of a voice. When it blew rough, and snatched one of the children from their midst, they did not greatly grieve. The child had but gone to be the playmate of the gods.
The springs sparkled clear, for in them dwelt the Naiads or freshwater nymphs, with gifts as great as the river gods, who were ofttimes seen and heard amid the churning, tossing waters.
In the trees dwelt the Dryads, nymphs these of the forest,
