teries were the refuge of princes and ecolesiastics. Isaac Commenos was a monk in one, Phippicus retired to another. In one (I believe it was this very island) Constantine VI. was imprisoned and his eyes put out. We are now standing on the ruins of the convent built by Irene; she was banished here for blinding her son. She built her convent here to atone for her guilt. She was killed here later by the Emperor."

Then he told me in a whisper of the faith of the nuns of the convent of Irene in their Holy Mother, and how it availed them not. The Turks, he said, had promised to protect them, but one night a score of boats, lit up with torches, attacked the convent, and slew all except those whom they carried into slavery.

As he was speaking I was digging up iris roots, which grow plentifully on the island. Suddenly I came upon some human bones, and pointed to them. Digging farther, we found a skeleton, and close by another. Both graves contained skeletons of women. One was headless. The graves pointed east. They are to be found on the highest spot of the island which we call Irene, but which is locally known as the Accursed.

It all took place five centuries ago, yet from the twitching of his face and the movement of his hands, he made me feel as if he himself might have taken part in the defence.

'Sir, you now know why it is called the Accursed. The Turks themselves gave it the name at that time. My manuscript says so."

Some of the bricks of the ruined monastery are inscribed with the initials of the maker, some with the Byzantine cross, some with the legend To the glory of God."

Lying in the sea by Andreas Island, he showed me two black-and-white fluted columns. They had evidently come from one of the chapels, but how they came to be in two fathoms of water will always remain a mystery. Coloured marble, porphyry, and many small mosaics showed that the interiors of these island chapels were delicately decorated.

we

At another island, lying on the beach, we saw a baptismal font with a Greek inscription. On two of the beaches found Byzantine relics, some small bronze and leaden crosses, a cameo of Eros, coins bearing the name of one of the monasteries, and a number of coins, copper and silver, of Leo III.

Our most interesting find was a small metal tube containing a parchment scroll. As we opened it and tried to read the Greek inscription, it crumbled away.

Sylvestro told me that some years ago he found two iron brooches inlaid with gold. Both were engraved with figures of Byzantine emperor and empress, but he had parted with them to a dealer in the bazaar.

One evening, after a previous

I told him that I had reached the age when it requires something more than good fishing to keep me two nights from my bed.

Grudgingly he rowed me to my house-boat, and I heard his further comments-"Wasteful! A sin! Childish!

He returned to fish alone. From midnight to dawn he landed eleven fish weighing one hundred and two pounds. One of them tipped the scale at sixteen pounds. His one regret was that the whole catch was not mine.

At several of the islands are to be seen ruins of harbours and piers.

At Irene we traced the stairway which led to the ruins of a royal residence, where the Emperor used to hold a court

VOL. CCXXI.-NO. MCCCXXXVI.

of the elders of the monasteries. Standing on the ruins, my Byzantine pictured the Bythnian hills of former days, covered to the very snows with vines, olives, and cornfields; with flourishing villages nestling in the valleys; with villas, palaces, and mineral baths, traces of which are still to be seen. As we looked across that incomparable setting of a deep sapphire sea, he touched my arm, pointed, and called out

"See ! See! The royal galley with the great fleets bearing the Primates of Rome, Carthage, Antioch, Alexandria, with bishops and ecclesiastical delegates from all Christian parts. They are sailing to Nicea to decide that equal honour is due to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! "

Again he pictured the gathering of hundreds of fisher-folk to witness the blessing of the waters.

"At their head is the Emperor, followed by monks and clergy from Cyzicus, Heraklea, Pandermos, Selymbria, and

many a distant fishing village. The patriarch has cast into the sea the golden cross to bless the season's fishing."

He seemed to see it all. I saw him with bent head cross himself and whisper, "Kyrie Eleison, Kyrie Eleison." Then, turning to me, he said—

"Do you realise that all of these places, once important towns, are now but ruined villages? These islands, as you have seen, are deserted. The Turk for centuries has de

At other times he pictured the coming of the Turk, of his gradual peaceful entry, of the increasing hordes of irregulars who followed, of the crowds of fear-stricken peasants who fled before the swiftly advancing infidel. And he tried to assure me that the horrors of to-day are as nothing to the slaughter which took place centuries ago.

With pride he told me of the gallant defence of Nicea by one of his ancestors, Pietro Camitsis, and of its final fall and the massacre which followed. And he told how the Byzantines, by withdrawing or destroying their boats, tried to prevent the infidel from crossing the narrow to Europe. Of the treachery of some Greeks who joined the enemy and taught them how to build ships, until every creek along the coast was a slip, and galleys and barges of all sizes crossed the narrow seas.

Early one morning, when the sea was without a ripple, he showed me one of these Turkish galleys. She lies some six fathoms deep off Boz Bournou. This was her story :

"The fisher monks laid in her course a heavy floating net, buoyed and anchored to the rocks below. The galley sailed into it, and was immediately attacked and boarded by smaller craft which hurried from the shore." He mentioned the leaders by name as if it happened yesterday.

minute detail that I wondered how much was imagination. Yet if I asked him to repeat an episode, his account was always the same.

"My people told me. Yes, some is written. The book at home has the story."

There was a curious medley of religion and superstition in him. Fast days he observed, and he did not disapprove of some of the ancient rites of heathen times, which had come down through the ages uninfluenced by Roman, Greek, or Turk. Such was the annual spring-time holiday of the women of all creeds, who came from distant villages to the green fields around Monastiri, and sat on the grass without an under-garment, believing that the rite would bring motherhood. Such too was the healing on the Black Rock and holy spring on the shore opposite Andrea. The stories amused me. I asked if he believed them.

sands of such Ayasmas (springs) all over the country. Do you mean to say that they count for nothing? No, sir, it is you who are the doubter. The Black Rock will still be used, for our mothers know the truth."

The elements might be favourable to fishing, but they would be of no avail if on the previous evening he had heard the long moaning howl of a dog. That was a sure indication of failure, and he would cross himself. On the other hand, the droppings of a bird on his boat was a sure sign of a good catch. No new work was to be undertaken, no trip started on unlucky Tuesday. A small twig of olive, given when his boat was blessed, was nailed to the prow, and beside it, sharing equal honour, was a blue bead and some garlic to keep away the evil eye.

As I ridiculed his strange beliefs, he would in all seriousness tell me of the good and evil spirits," Kalo Kai Kako Daemon ; of good and bad omens; of the fates; and of what the Turk to-day calls Kismet.

The porpoise was sacred to him. He would not help me to land one which I harpooned, and was quite sure my sin was the cause of the ill-luck which attended us on our trip.

"The dolphin is the ancient emblem of the Byzantine Church. Was it not symbolic of our Lord, as shown in the word ἰχθύς, composed of the

first letters of 'Inooûs XploTÓS beοû viòs σúтnр. No, you must not kill dolphins from my boat."

I had one final experience of Sylvestro's knowledge of fish and their ways. We were caught in a biting north wind, which blew the stinging rain into our faces. We made for shelter. As we entered the bay, he noticed that hundreds of seagulls and cormorants were hovering and dropping suddenly into the water.

"A chorum!" he called out. "Quickly, get your lines. There are plenty of fish."

We rowed into a living wall of sardines and mackerel feeding. Porpoises were circling round them, driving them still farther into the bay. Other porpoises farther out were clearly working in concert with their fellows inshore. With landing-net only we filled five baskets of sardines; we could have filled the boat. Then we dropped our lines for bass, for they were working below; we caught eight within the hour, and lost as many more.

That evening Sylvestro told me of his life as a Turkish soldier.

"I was sent to the Cilician plains, and made to break stones. One day the colonel, who knew me, appointed me barber to the regiment. Later I was transferred to Baghdad to help the doctor.

You see,

I could read and write, so they put me to give out the medicines. The doctor died. I was left in charge as Hakim,

and then transferred to a prisoners' camp outside the city. It was an English prisoners' camp. Ah, sir, you would have wept to see them; they died every day. It was so cold that they had dug holes for themselves in heaps of manure. They were without boots and without clothing. The camp was full of typhus. I had faith in quinine and eleanliness, and gave the poor fellows doses from my bottles, trusting that some contained the right drug. If the men died—well, I had done my best, and they were spared further suffering."

He finally received notice to quit his village. Lausanne had conquered. Not even his services as a soldier availed him. Refugees from Crete were given his home. He received a document which stated the value of his property. It was counter

signed by the Greek Commission, who carefully explained that in exchange he would be given a house and shop of equal value in Greece. He was allowed to take away his movable property. It consisted of bedding, some clothing, his two guns, his books, and his boat. The manuscripts went with him. He had no desire to sell them, and I felt they should not part company. He rowed to the harbour, was put on board a transport, and eventually

landed at Salonica.

I heard from him a year later. He still possessed his document, but it was still a scrap of paper."

66

His last words at parting were