us
conventions of all kinds very soon pall on my particular temperament.
It is possibly a defect in my development, like my inability to
appreciate classical music. On the other hand, like Mark Twain, I
enjoy an ancient mummy just because he is ancient; and were it not for
the irritation of seeing so much religious display associated with
such miserable social conditions in so beautiful a country, I should
have more sympathy with those who would "see Rome and die." The
sanitation of the one-time Mistress of the world suggests that it
could not be difficult to accomplish that feat in the hot weather.

Brindisi is a household word in almost every English home, especially
one like ours with literally dozens of Anglo-Indian relatives. I was
therefore glad to pass _via_ Brindisi on the road to Athens. Patras
also had its interest to me as a distributing centre for our Labrador
fish. We actually saw three forlorn-looking schooners, with cargoes
from Newfoundland, lying in the harbour.

One poignant impression left on my mind by Greece, as well as Rome,
was its diminutive size. I almost resented the fact that a place
civilized thousands of years ago, and which had loomed up on my
imagination as the land of Socrates, of Plato, of Homer, of Achilles,
of Spartan warriors, and immortal poets, all seemed so small. The
sense of imposition on my youth worried me.

In Athens one saw so many interesting relics within a few hundred
yards that it left one with the feeling of having eaten a meal too
fast. The scene of the battle of Salamis fascinated me. When we sat in
Xerxes' seat and conjured up the whole picture again, and saw the
meaning to the world of the great deed for which men so gladly gave
their lives to defeat a tyrant seeking for world power, it made me
love those old Greeks, not merely admire their art.

On Mars Hill we stood on the spot where, to me, perhaps the greatest
man in history, save one, pleaded with men to accept love as the only
durable source of greatness and power. But every monument, every
bas-relief, every tombstone showed that the fighting man was their
ideal.

The idea of sailing from the Piraeus reconciled us to the very mediocre
vessel which carried us to Smyrna. Our visit to Asia Minor we had
inadvertently timed to the opening of the International College at
Paradise near Smyrna. This college is the gift of Mrs. John Kennedy of
New York. Mr. Ralph Harlow, our host and a professor at the college,
w