chant and pray, and burn the holy candles, and kiss the sacred images for the brethren without, as if they could save them by proxy. No female foot is allowed to tread on Monte Santo. For hundreds of years, if the monks may be believed, no female foot has trodden that sacred mount. It rears its white marble pyramid untainted and inviolate into the pure air. Nowhere in the East is there so holy a sanctuary, and to no place do the Eastern Christians turn with greater veneration than to the majestic Mount Athos. And, that such a retreat has its charms, we may believe with Byron, who, speaking of the solitude experienced amid unknown crowds, said

"More blest the life of godly Eremite,
Such as on lonely Athos may be seen,
Watching at eve upon the giant height,
Which looks o'er waves so blue, skies so serene,
That he who there at such an hour hath been,
Will wistful linger on that hallow'd spot;
Then slowly tear him from the 'witching scene,
Sigh forth one wish that such had been his lot,
Then turn to hate a world he had almost forgot."

CHAPTER III.

SYRA.

The town-Its appearance-Harbour-Public square-The peopleCostumes-Cafés-Wineshops-Market - Trades-Speech-English in Syra-Italian man-of-war-Visit to country garden-Beautiful evening-Singing on the forecastle-Church of the Resurrection -Church of St. Nicholas-Woman and child-Older churchesSacred pictures-Infirmary-St. Bartholomew's Hospital-Funeral -The observance of Sunday-St. John's Eve: its bonfires, and their origin-Pherecydes-The story of Eumæus.

SYRA is built on the margin of the sea, and on two hills rising rapidly above the margin, one of them conical, and surmounted by the partly built Church of the Resurrection, and one of them winding round into an elevated plateau, whence may be obtained one of the finest views of the Cyclades. There is no other large town so near the sea as Syra in the entire Archipelago; indeed, Syra is the only large town in the Archipelago, and one of the largest towns in Greece. The other towns, or villages, of these beautiful islands lie significantly far away from the shore, on the hillsides, and in the secluded valleys, generally difficult of access -significantly, because for many centuries, and until comparatively recent years, piracy was very common in the Ægean, and, by building their huts and tilling the ground along the shore, the villagers would simply have tempted these robbers of the sea. The protection of their own lives and property demanded the choice of distant and not easily approachable sites for their houses, and vineyards, and oliveyards, and sheep, and cattle, and all their worldly wealth. The oldest part of Syra is furthest from the sea. The modern buildings, erected with the rapid growth of the port since the days of Grecian independence, are near the shore -a sign that the exciting occupation of these Ishmaelites of the sea, whose hand was against every man, and every man's hand against them, is gone.

Syra is a picturesque town, with its squarely-built, flatroofed, lattice-windowed houses crowded together, and rising one above another on its two hills; every house painted or washed with a light colour, and sometimes with two or three colours-white, grey, blue, pink-and the latticed windows generally green; the larger houses with verandahs, and vines climbing about them, and apricots clustering between them, and oranges ripening in their little courtyards; the Church of the Resurrection, with its lofty dome and its fanciful square towers, guarding the town from one hill, and the Church of St. Nicholas, a larger and more substantial structure, from the other; older and smaller churches, one near the wharf, another behind the public square, mingling with the houses; and, along the wharf, a motley line of dwellings, and shops, and mercantile offices, and store-rooms, looking into a small harbour crowded with craft of all sorts and sizes, from large ocean steamers to tiny buoyant caiques. Behind the town are other two hills, conical in shape, very high, brown and bare, between whose clearly defined outlines is the pure, silvery atmosphere only seen above the sea, and which everywhere suggests to the susceptible nostrils the smell of the sea; while, on either side of these conical hills, other high, brown, bare hills rise and sweep toward the town, shutting it in to the right and left, and adding very greatly to its beauty. Under the serenest of skies, and from the bluest of seas, this town presents a most charming picture; and the charm is enhanced upon entering the harbour and coming within hearing of its babel voices, and within sight of its varied and gaily attired people.

The little harbour, formed by a stone jetty yet in course of construction, and enclosing a portion of an open bay, is very busy. Syra is the port of call for all steamers passing between Smyrna and Athens, and for many steamers on their way to Constantinople and the Black Sea. And it is the port of the Cyclades, and even of the more distant islands of the Ægean, to which the islanders bring their fruit, and sheep, and cattle, and at which they purchase what they require for their simple lives. The Cunard steamers call occasionally, and frequently the Austrian. Lloyd steamers, which convey the passengers hereabouts-large boats, well officered by Austrians and Germans, and well engineered by Scotch and Englishmen, crowded with the most curious human cargo imaginable, attired in every kind of colour, Turks, Greeks, Jews, Albanians, Armenians, Egyptians, Italians, Germans, French, English, the last four in small numbers, all mixing together, and talking one to another, each in his own language, and producing a new confusion of tongues. One or more English steamers discharging coal may always be found in the harbour, with a Grecian barque or schooner clean and trim, and, moored to the wharf closely alongside, the smaller boats of the islanders, slenderly built, sitting lightly upon the water, and yet with wide, rounded, capacious hulls, into which may be stored a well-nigh incredible cargo. With the stern as sharp as the stem, and the single mast groaning beneath a huge lateen sail, these old-fashioned craft are capable of sweeping across the shining spaces between the islands at an amazing speed. I watched one of these boats discharge a cargo of sheep in Syra harbour, sheep of a small breed, and, as I afterwards proved, mutton not very juicy or tender, and I was greatly surprised at the number turned out. Where, in so small a boat, all that live stock could have been stowed, was a mystery; but they had been stowed somewhere, for out they came, quite a flock of them, floundering in the water, and bleating piteously upon the quay. These island boats remind one, by their light construction, and rig, and speed, and enormous carrying capacity, of the views on old coins and antiquated pottery, and the descriptions in ancient writings, of the boats of long past ages; and they are substantially similar. Moving across the water, between the larger boats, in every direction are small caiques, prettily painted, not so long and not so elaborately fitted and ornamented as the caiques of the Bosphorus, but well adapted for the rapid work required, and the small space of water available in Syra harbour. The constantly changing scene, and the variety of life represented, the quaint and tinted town rising above, and the hum of voices from its closely adjoining market mingling with the voices of the people about the ships and boats, and all the sounds peculiar to harbours everywhere, invest the picture with considerable interest, and many a pleasant hour may be passed in quiet observation and reverie in this busy little port of the East.

The most favourable time and place for seeing the people of Syra is in the evening in the public square. Those who can sleep through the middle of the summer day do so, and remain awake to enjoy the cool season between sunset and sunrise. During the summer months, towards the middle of the day, the heat in the Grecian islands is very great, and nowhere greater than in Syra, facing the south-east, and closed in on every other side by high hills. Soon after eleven o'clock all labour is suspended; the well-to-do people retire to their homes, the poorer people crouch in the shadow of the porches, warehouses, awnings, corners of the street, everywhere, and go sound asleep; and the town is hushed into silence, and dreaminess, and siesta, until the intense heat has partially passed away. Signs of returning activity are visible about two o'clock. Gradually the town wakes up again, the streets and harbour resume their accustomed sounds, and work and business are prose