me and say:

[Illustration: Officers of H.M.S. _Alexandra_, Ashore at Cattaro]

"Hey, Sandy, shoot off one of them things to Mary, will ye?"

And the thing was done.

The summer cruise of 1883 was up the Adriatic. All the Greek islands
were visited. I knew the historical significance of the places, which
made that summer cruise a fairyland to me.

There were incidents in that summer cruise of more than ordinary
interest. One morning, while our ship was anchored in the harbour of
Chios, the rock on which our anchor lay was moved by a sudden
convulsion: the mighty cable was snapped, and the ship tossed like a
cork by the strain. The guns were torn from their gearing and the shot
and shell torn from their racks. Men on their feet were flung
prostrate, and everything loose scattered over the decks. The shrill
blast of the bugle sounded the "still." Such a sound is very seldom
blown from the bugles, but when it is, every man stops absolutely
still and awaits orders. The boatswain blew his whistle which was
followed with the Captain's order, "Port watch on deck; every other
man to his post!" Five minutes later, on the port side of the ship, I
saw the British Consul's house roll down the side of the hill. I saw
the people flock around a priest who swung his censer and called upon
God. The yawning gulf was there into which a part of the little town
had sunk. A detachment of marines and bluejackets went ashore, not
knowing the moment when the earth would open up and swallow them. The
boats were lowered, and orders were given to stand ready to pack the
ship to the last item of capacity and carry away the refugees from
what we supposed to be a "sinking island." Of course, in a crisis like
this, the sentiment of religion becomes dominant. Some of my comrades
at once jumped to the conclusion that it was the coming of the Lord,
and in the solemnity of the moment I could not resist the suggestion
for which I was derided for months:

"Gee, but isn't He coming with a bang!"

CHAPTER IV

PROBLEMS AND PLACES

In 1884 I kept a diary--kept it the entire year. It was written in the
straggling characters of a child of ten. As I peruse it now,
twenty-five years afterward, I am struck not so much with what it
records, as with what it leaves unrecorded. The great places visited
and the names of great men are chronicled, Bible studies and religious
observations find a place--but of the fierce struggle of the human
soul with de