The librarian is the busiest of them all, which is evidenced by the fact that he has only got one eye, having, as he said, worn the other out with study. He was one of our earliest visitors, and took it for granted that the object of our visit to Patmos was to live in his library and copy manuscripts. We did visit it, indeed, and were shown the few valuable books which have escaped the many depredations of bibliophiles. Amongst the oldest of the manuscripts we found a St Mark's Gospel, written in 953 A.D., before the Alexandrian Codex. The initials to the names of God and Christ are in gold, and all the letters are in silver, on rose-coloured parchment. It finishes at the twentysecond verse of the fifteenth chapter, as the one in the library at Vienna. The history of Job is a manuscript of the ninth century, and is imperfect, some of the earlier pages being lost. The painted illustrations are most beautifully done, and the representations of Job's flocks, and his daughters, still preserve their original richness of colour. Some of the later volumes in the library are very interesting from the richness of their Byzantine buildings, notably a Gospel written in 1335, and full of lovely pictures. Unfortunately, many of them have suffered much from damp and want of care; but of late years, owing to the realisation of their value, the librarian is much more careful of his treasures, and handles them with infinite pride. But instead of going into ecstatic raptures over the lovely Job and the ancient

sulted the librarian by becoming deeply interested in two manuscripts describing the wanderings of St John, and purporting to have been written by two disciples of his, Prochoros and Nicitas. These books form the foundation for all the legends which the Patmiotes still firmly believe the basis, in fact, of their religion. These works are obviously spurious, full of anachronisms and contradictions, and have been too clearly written to assist in the production of sacred spots, which is a favourite system in the Eastern Church. A priest will say he has found a picture of the Madonna in a tree; a man will dream a dream that a sacred picture is at the bottom of a well; he will proceed to draw it up, and then churches will be built in honour of the Madonna of the tree, or of the well, miracles will be wrought, and a centre for pilgrimages established. An apt illustration of this idea came before our notice when at Patmos. Our servant, an intelligent and generally well-informed Greek, but not much of a theologian, was exercised in his mind respecting the history of Patmos, as connected with St John; so one day he asked me, "Did St John find the Gospels in the Cave of the Apocalypse?" There is a very close analogy between this system of finding sacred objects and that which taught that images "fell down from Jupiter," and that the sacred books of the Sibyls were found.

The most amusing story which Prochoros professes to tell in his account of St John is the contest which the saint is supposed to have had with a magician called Kynops, who was deputed by the priests of the temple of Apollo at Patmos to do what damage he

could to the Roman prisoner, whose teaching interfered so much with their trade. Kynops lived in a cave to the south-west of the island, where he kept an army of demons. The Patmiotes of to-day show you the cave of Kynops, in a wild dreary spot overhanging the sea; and even in these latter days none dare enter it for fear of the demons, which are still supposed to haunt it.

On the day appointed for the contest, St John, Kynops, and a large crowd of lookers-on repaired to the shore, where Kynops wrought many miracles, diving into the sea and bringing up the dead, whilst St John merely looked on in dignified silence, and permitted his adversary to gain a complete triumph. The people thereupon fell to worshipping Kynops, and stoned St John, whom they left for dead on the shore. Prochoros then relates how, whilst he was standing by the supposed corpse and weeping, St John suddenly arose, walked up to the town without aid, and challenged the magician to a renewal of the

contest.

Next day Kynops and his friends came down in the full confidence of another triumph. The magician again dived into the sea, as he had previously done, whilst St John was engaged in fervent prayer, the result being that the magician never came up again, though the people remained staring for three days and night at the waves which covered him.

The credulous Patmiotes of today will show you the spot on which St John triumphed, and will point out a submerged rock in the harbour, which they say is the body of Kynops converted into stone by the vigour of the saintly prayers. All the spots connected

with this legendary account of St John are localised by tiny churches; and when I asked how it happened that St Christodoulos was able to identify the places on an island which had been uninhabited for centuries, I was promptly suppressed by the reply, Through prayer and fasting." There are many other legends connected with St John and his miracles on Patmos. Before leaving the island, they say the saint went on a baptising tour through all the villages, in one of which he healed the son of a priest of Juptier. In another he had to contend with the wiles and enchantments of a certain Notianus; and on the inhabitants asking to be baptised, he conducted them to a stream—but lo! Notianus, by his art, turned the stream into blood. Whereupon St John prayed fervently, and the blood turned into water again. Notianus was struck with blindness, and did not recover his sight until he humbled himself before St John and received baptism.

That an outer world existed on Patmos outside the monastery was brought vividly before our notice on the day of our arrival by the town-crier, who makes use of the parapets of the monastery for delivering his messages. All that it is necessary for him to do is to ring his bell, and scream from the four corners of the building, and every one in Patmos will hear what he has to say. He is a wild unkempt object to look upon, with long hair, a red fez, brown home-spun clothes, and bare feet. He is the mouthpiece of all Patmiote trade, and announces what captains have arrived with cargoes of macaroni, of beans, of figs, and other commodities. The price of each article is given, and the good folks are instructed to repair to such and

such a house, where their requirements will be supplied.

There is much more left that is old in the town of Patmos than one usually sees in the island towns, presumably because the presence of the monastery has preserved the place from marauding attacks. Pirates in Greek waters are almost universally pious, and they never start on an expedition without the blessing of a priest, who not unfrequently stipulates for a share of their spoil. We visited several very good houses in the town, the best always belonging to those who have been sea-captains, and who have brought back objects from beyond seas to decorate their homes. Of old china, indifferent pictures, carved funiture, and brica-brac, there is abundance, probably brought to the island in those days when Patmiote merchants traded with Venice and the mercantile ports of Italy. Of late years their wealth has greatly collapsed, and curiosity-dealers from Constantinople have found here a rich har

vest.

"There has been a great deal of the evil eye about lately," an old woman told us, whose walls had been stripped of Rhodian plates and other ornaments to pay for present exigencies. The god Fascinus, in short, has survived here in full vigour. The withering of trees, the ruin of decay, the destruction of crops-every misfortune, in fact is in Patmos attributed to the pernicious influence of a demon by means of the eye of a medium, those whose eyebrows closely join being usually selected. The Patmiotes take the greatest possible notice of personal appearance as indicating certain tendencies. The popular saying is "Red hair and blue eyes-the soul of the devil and the heart of Satan." All

marks on the body are portentous, according to the Patmiotes. If you have two lumps on your head, you will be married twice; if you have long ears, you will have a long life; if you have good teeth, you will have wealth; and the excitement caused by the birth of a baby with a caul surpasses anything I have heard in our own country on this interesting phenomenon. A caul is supposed to indicate a glorious future: it must be blessed at three different liturgies, and must be hung up on the wall amongst the collection of domestic saints which every householder possesses. "May God protect us," say they, "from a beardless man and a hairy woman!" In most of their legends of gnomes and magicians, it is the man without a beard and the woman with one who invariably play the most conspicuous part.

The great remedy for the evil eye on Patmos is to go and cut off the end of the girdle of the unfortunate possessor of this unenviable characteristic. This must be burnt in an incense-burner, and be waved before the person or the object which has suffered, and then, by throwing three carnation-leaves into the fire, it can be seen whether the charm has been effectual or not. If the leaves crackle, it is a sign of healing, and some one must spit thrice on the person or the thing, saying, as he does so, “ Uncharmed!" But if the leaves refuse to crackle, it is best to go to the monastery at once and secure a monk to come and read a prayer to avert the danger.

The inhabitants of Patmos half worship the monks of their monastery, and believe them entirely devoid of the failings which other flesh is heir to. When a monk passes by or enters a house, it is customary for the people to touch.

the ground with their fingers, and then to kiss the hand which the holy man proffers. A Patmiote mother's highest ambition is to see her son introduced as a "reader" into the monastic church, with the prospect of being eventually admitted as a monk when the days of his probation are over. All the monks are now of Patmiote origin. This was not the case in former days, when many came from afar. But of late years many things have been altered. The old-fashioned common life has been abandoned, and the handsome common room, with its frescoed walls, is rapidly falling into decay. Visitors have stolen most of the old tiles which once adorned the common table; the superior's throne is now tottering on three legs; and the fine baronial kitchen, which adjoins the common room, is now used only as a depository for that hateful lime with which they love to besmear everything that is architecturally beautiful.

The monks feed now in their own apartments, to each of which a kitchen is attached. They are attended upon by a novice, generally a member of their own family; and then there are two or three working monks, who do the heavy work of the monastery, such as drawing the water from the well, and occasionally sweeping out and whitewashing the cells. Father John, who performed these menial offices for us, was a quaint-looking old fellow, with tattered cassock, weather-beaten tall hat, and bare legs, very picturesque indeed when seen toiling up the steps with our "amphora of water poised on his shoulders.

A little tailor called Janko was our guide, philosopher, and friend outside the monastic walls; and when Lent had set in, he it was

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who brought us our food, for the peasants were afraid that, if they were seen bringing good things inside during the great fast, they would incur the displeasure of the monks. Some even refused to sell us milk and cheese, affirming that it was a sin; and if it had not been for our tailor, we might have been condemned to an involuntary abstinence. Janko took us one afternoon to visit the nunnery, where the "good old ladies" of Patmos retire to repent them of their sins. I feel sure that they fast far more rigorously than the monks, for a more attenuated sickly collection of women I never saw. We asked on entering for the lady superior, and were told that she was ill in bed, and that all the others were in church doing their hours," and that if we particularly wished to see them, we might go in too. was a curious sight to witness about forty sisters, in their long black coats and skirts, with black handkerchiefs over their heads, mumbling, chanting, and bowing; and for us the "hour" passed agreeably enough as we stood in stalls, and watched the nuns at their metania-that is to say, bowing and kissing the ground three times after every fourth psalm, and four times after every tenth psalm. The number of metanie that it is possible to get through in the twenty-four hours, I was told, is three hundred; but they are by no means obligatory. It is really wonderful to see how active even the decrepit old ones are in these devotional gymnastics; and to hear the rapidity with which they can say their Kyrie Eleisons almost takes away one's breath. The ladies plod through the services by themselves, chanting and reading every

thing. A special priest, however, is kept to perform the incensing and sacred mysteries behind the screen, where it is not lawful for women to enter; but he is carefully locked out of the nunnery at night, and is never supposed to hold converse with any of them.

The lady superior, a wrinkled deaf old woman, received us in bed, where she lay in all her greasy black attire. She was not equal to much conversation; but around us sat other nuns, who made up for the said deficiency. They spoke much at first in hypocritical tones of their "lovely unworldly life," and then they proceeded to state their poverty, and finally invited us to their several cells, with the object of inducing us to purchase some of their handiwork. Each nun has her own apartments, most of them clean and tidy, and they support themselves by weaving and working, and by obtaining presents from their friends without and casual visitors like ourselves.

Another day Janko took us down many dark narrow alleys to visit one of the three old women who still adhere to the picturesque Patmiote costume. Greasy though it was and faded, we could still appreciate its beauty. The petticoat had once been rich red; the jacket was of black velvet, with looped-up sleeves; on her head she wore a tall erection called a posin, with a gold embroidered top; the shoes had once been of white kid, with turned-up toes; but, like the wearer, the clothes were nought but a reflection of past beauty. She lived in a house consisting of one large room with a mud floor, and containing a handsomely carved settee, some fine oak chests, and a richly illuminated bed, on which she slept, the sheets of

which, though extremely dirty, had valances attached of real Greek lace. The poor old thing was very shy at being thus closely inspected by foreigners, and utterly refused to have her photograph taken, for fear we should work magic with it; and she crossed herself vigorously when we asked her if she herself understood anything about the black art. "It is a sin," she murmured; "the Panagia forbid that I should do such things;" but when we went away, Janko told us that none in Patmos knew more charms and incantations than she did.

Of course the stock sight of Patmos is the cave in which tradition says St John wrote down his Revelations. There are many caves in the island, and, for my part, I feel sceptical as to this one being what it professes; for it must have been exceedingly shallow before the church was built on to it, and moreover, too much exposed to view for secret meditations, seeing that it is commanded by the site of the old town a little way up the opposite hill on the road to the monastery. At present, however, the cave is sufficiently concealed from view by a pile of buildings fast falling into ruins, where a few years ago existed a school for the education of Greeks; but now that local education is much improved in the Levant, parents do not care to send their sons so far, and the school has been closed.

The care of the churches-one adjoining and one over the caveis intrusted to a priest-Papa Makarios by name-and his sister Sophia, who occupy rooms in the ramshackle building. On the first occasion on which we visited the cave, we were lucky in finding Sophia alone, for she is deeply imbued with the legends of the place,