This spot of frequent shipwrecks had also its sea deities. The Moluriad Rock, a part of the Scironian Cliffs, was the scene of Ino’s payment of her share in the curse laid upon her father, Cadmus of Thebes. Chased by an angry husband down the mountain ridges, she plunged into the sea with her infant son Melicertes, or, as Euripides said, in comparing her to Medea, with two children in her arms:— “One woman only have I known Of all before us, one alone, Lay hand upon her children dear: God-maddened Ino, from her home By Zeus’s wife sent forth to roam, With impious murder to the mere, Ah wretched one! from headland springing Her children twain and self out-flinging, She perished with them in the foam.” Ino became Leucothea, the kindly goddess of Odysseus’s journey, and Melicertes became Palæmon, the Greek representative of the Phœnician Melkart, worshipped on the Isthmus. To them, in the Anthology, sailors prayed on their way to the “sweet shore of Piræus” and fishermen dedicated strange sea creatures that came up in their nets or were found upon the shore. The train keeps on its way by the Saronic Gulf, crosses the canal on a bridge and reaches New Corinth on the Corinthian Gulf. The destiny of Corinth was so peculiarly the result of its situation that to describe the one is to foreshadow the other. Aristotle might have illustrated by this city the physical qualities which he considered desirable. It had “a native abundance of streams and fountains” to promote health, and its acropolis was one of the strongest in Greece. Most of all, it was “well situated in regard both to sea and land.” Thus it was “a strategic centre for protecting the whole district,” and was “convenient for receiving the crops and also for the bringing in of timber and any other natural products.” Corinth commanded two ports, one on either side of the Isthmus, and stood also at the entrance to the Peloponnesus. As “god-built portal of the bright island of Pelops” she controlled the land routes for the exports and imports of southern Greece, and as a city “of two seas” she was mistress of the trade of the far east and the far west. At the beginning of the Peloponnesian War she urged the Dorian allies to remember that if they did not protect her seaboard they would find it difficult to carry their produce to the sea or to barter in return for the goods which the sea gives to the land. Already in Homer Corinth was “rich,” and her later history was one of commerce, colonization, invention, and the arts and crafts rather than of literature. For that reason the pathos of her present desolation is unrelieved by thoughts of a rescued legacy.