The nomination of candidates at the primaries evinced a political animosity against Chairo of which we were altogether unaware. To our amazement the notion that Neaera was the victim of a concerted effort to exonerate Chairo at her expense had so widely prevailed that neither discussion nor argument was any longer of any avail. All who defended Chairo were hounded down as the persecutors of a defenseless woman, and were it not for the votes of the women, who were less obtuse on the question than the men, neither Chairo nor any of his following would have received a nomination. As it was, Chairo was nominated only by a dangerously narrow majority, and most of his party were dropped altogether, But the very women who were not deceived into vindicating Neaera went far beyond the limits of wisdom in their defense of the Demetrian cult. Although Arkles and Iréné did their utmost to keep the enthusiasm of their supporters within reasonable bounds, the belief that the cult was attacked caused the nomination of a class of candidates who, if elected, were likely to do Chairo scant justice by their votes. For some weeks I lived in a turmoil of political campaigning. It was a relief to be wakened on Christmas by a peal of Cathedral bells, and these over, to hear in the distant corridors an approaching hymn swell its note of praise as it passed our door and die away as it disappeared in the distance. We were all glad to feel that the electioneering was over, for Christmas Day is devoted entirely to the morning ritual and afternoon family gatherings; the 26th is devoted to final athletic competitions, the crowning of the victors, and public balls; and the 27th to the silent vote. I am ashamed to say that although I had often delighted in the exterior of the Cathedral from a distance, I had never entered it till Christmas morning, for our quarters were some distance from it, and such religious exercises as I had attended with Ariston were held either in a neighboring chapel or at the temple of Demeter. The scene as I approached the Cathedral reminded me of what my imagination had sometimes constructed out of mediæval chronicles around the spires of Chartres. It was a cold day and all the approaches to the Cathedral were crowded with men, women, and children, covered with outer garments that far more resembled those we see in the thirteenth century tapestries than the Greek dress that had first surprised me at Tyringham and in the interiors of New York. I learned that even in summer it was usual to don a special dress when attending a church service, not only out of respect for the church, but out of a sense of the artistic inappropriateness of a Greek dress in a gothic Cathedral.