north of us was a large, pure white lagoon, shut off from the sea
by a sandbar. No doubt this was a layer of salt formed the same way as
the inland lakes with their salt we were accustomed to at Mex, and it
was likely from this the "old wifie" had got her salt.

Every village has its fig trees, the largest under 20 feet high, their
large leaves rich green and luscious. Almost every house has one or
more of these. There is but one pattern for their houses, a square box
two storeys high, often with a bit of balcony covered with vines. The
general colour of a village is grey, cold, and forbidding, but this is
relieved by the fig trees, and the bright green and blue paint many
use on their doors and windows. Everything is primitive, and long may
it remain so; all seem happy and contented on the small pittance any
of them can earn. There is no attempt at farming on anything but the
smallest scale.

Was it in Lemnos, the AEgean Isle, Milton lands Satan when thrown out
of Heaven?

We hear that Achi Baba was to be stormed to-day, but we do not believe
it. Big gunfire is distinctly heard at this distance (over 40 miles)
and we have heard but a very few shots. Last night the booming was
constant for a time.

_July 23rd._--To-day we had a route march of nearly twelve miles, the
first since we left England. We went through Rosapool to the northern
shore of Lemnos, where the men bathed and rested for an hour. We found
a fine beach of silver sand. We reached camp a little after 2, with
excellent appetites. By a little clever manoeuvring--and with the aid
of Sergeant-Major Shaw--Kellas and I managed to reach Rosapool while
the men rested outside, and we had a long, cooling drink of Pilsner.

_July 24th._--Went over almost every street in Mudros this morning.
There were five of us, and we made many purchases for our mess--white
wine, plums, Turkish delight, preserved fruit, tomatoes, etc. In the
evening Thomson and I inoculated every one in camp against cholera--my
second dose.

_July 25th._--When we landed at Lemnos we chanced to meet Padre
Komlosy, who has looked us up in camp a time or two since. He had a
service at 10 for us and the Welsh Fusiliers who are on their way to
Gallipoli for the first time. These Welshmen wear a cockade of white
feathers in their helmets and the officers three black ribbons down
their backs, from below their coat collars. Padre Hardie also visited
us in the evening.

H.Q. of the lines of