‘If you have not seen Athens, you’re a stock; If you have seen it and are not taken with it, you’re an ass; If you are glad to leave it, you’re a pack-ass.’ “ Thence to Oropus by Psaphides and the sanctuary of Zeus Amphiaraus is a day’s journey for a good walker. It is all up-hill,[2] but the abundance and good cheer of the inns prevent the traveller from feeling the fatigue. Oropus is a nest of hucksters. The greed of the custom-house officers here is unsurpassed, their roguery inveterate and bred in the bone. Most of the people are coarse and truculent in their manners, for they have knocked the decent members of the community on the head. They deny they are Boeotians, standing out for it that they are Athenians living in Boeotia. To quote the poet Xeno: ‘All are custom-house officers, all are robbers. A plague on the Oropians!’ ----- Footnote 2: This is an odd mistake. In point of fact half of the way is up hill and the other half is down hill. The road rises first gently and then steeply to the summit of the pass over Mount Parnes not far from the ancient Decelea; thence it descends, at first rapidly in sharp serpentine curves, then gradually through a rolling woodland country to the sea at Oropus. ----- “ Thence to Tanagra is a hundred and thirty furlongs. The road runs through olive-groves and woodlands: fear of highwaymen there is none at all. The city stands on high and rugged ground. Its aspect is white and chalky; but the houses with their porches and encaustic paintings give it a very pretty appearance. The corn of the district is not very plentiful, but the wine is the best in Boeotia. The people are well-to-do, but simple in their way of life. All are farmers, not artisans. They practise justice, good faith, and hospitality. To needy fellow-townsmen and to vagabonds they give freely of their substance, for meanness and covetousness are unknown to them. It is the safest city in all Boeotia for strangers to stay in; for the independent and industrious habits of the people have bred a sturdy downright hatred of knavery. In this city I observed as little as might be of those unbridled impulses which are commonly the source of the greatest crimes. For where people have enough to live on, they do not hanker after lucre, so roguery can hardly show face among them. “ Thence to Plataea is two hundred furlongs. The road is somewhat desolate and stony, and it rises up the slopes of Cithaeron, but it is not very unsafe. In the city, to quote the poet Posidippus, ‘Two temples there are, a colonnade and old renown, And the baths, and Sarabus’s famous inn. A desert most of the year, it is peopled at the time of the games.’ The inhabitants have nothing to say for themselves except that they are Athenian colonists, and that the battle between the Greeks and the Persians was fought in their country.