Again, the Greek language is not one which spread itself easily among foreigners, nor did it give rise to a number of daughter languages, like the Latin. In many Hellenic colonies, barbarians learned to speak Greek with the Greeks, and to adopt their language at the time; but in all these cases, when the Greek influence vanished the Greek language decayed, and finally made way for the old tongue which it had temporarily displaced. Thus the evidence of history seems to suggest that no foreigners were ever really able to make that subtle tongue their own; and even now we can feel the force of what Aristotle says—that however well a stranger might speak, you could recognize him at once by his use of the particles. These considerations seem to me conclusive that, whatever admixtures may have taken place, the main body of the people are what their language declares them to be, essentially Greeks. Any careful observer will not fail to see through the wilder parts of the Morea types and forms equal to those which inspired the old artists. There are still among the shepherd boys splendid lads who would adorn a Greek gymnasium, or excite the praise of all Greece at the Olympian games. There are still maidens fit to carry the sacred basket of Athene. Above all, there are still many old men fit to be chosen for their stalwart beauty to act as _thallophori_ in the Panathenaic procession. These thoughts often struck us as we went through the narrow and crowded streets of Argos, in search of the peculiar produce of the place—raw silks, rich-colored carpets and rugs, and ornamental shoes in dull red “morocco” leather.