LIFE OF DR. ROLLESTON. XXV 



just on the point of complete drying, and malaria, consequently, 

 just in the prime of its strength. In discussing the various 

 nationalities of Smyrna, Eolleston claims the Greeks there as 

 genuine representatives and descendants of the ancient Hellenes. 

 The characteristic bearing and expression of the old models of 

 Greek art are, he says, constantly brought before our minds as 

 we meet the modern Greek in the streets. The seafaring Greek 

 seemed to him like the Odysseus of the ancient sculptors, not 

 only in general expression, but in details of limb and feature, 

 lips, nose, eyes, hair, and forehead. The Greeks of Asia Minor 

 have been much less intermixed with foreign blood than those 

 in Greece Proper, and kept their Romaic speech even when 

 Albanian was spoken in Athens, and natra f] 'EAAas e<x/cAa/3co0?7. 

 Nor have the Anatolian Greeks adopted the Albanian fustanella 

 or kilt, as the modern Hellenes have done, but wear the loose 

 blue calico breeches, the jacket, and the long loose red cap like 

 the Phrygian. As to the national qualities of Greeks and 

 Turks, so important a factor in the politics of the East, the 

 report is scrupulously fair. This comes out clearly and also 

 quaintly in an appendix on a Turkish industry, the making 

 of fig- drums of bent wood. Of course the square shape is better 

 for packing, but a remark is added that the shape of the box 

 depends on the orders of the exporter, so that it is incorrect to 

 ascribe the persistence of the round shape to the obstinate and 

 irrational preference for that which is old, simply because it is 

 old, which the Turk really does show in so many instances. 

 Rolleston had soon seen enough of the Turks to understand the 

 hopelessness of turning them into a civilised Western nation. 

 The declining glory of the East was everywhere plain to him. 

 'The war,' he used to say in after years, 'has killed the old 

 reverence. How can it lastl I saw a quite grand old 

 ragged sheikh, a sort of Turkish Quixote, at the head of his 

 little troop, come down to the beach on his mule just as some 

 French and English sailors were going by, and one of the 

 Frenchmen, egged on by one of our tars, went up to the old 

 fellow and gave his beard a pull.' A letter, written as late as 



