From the villas on 

 the hills, from the won- 

 drous palace, from old 

 Buda that knew the 

 Thund'ring Legion, as 

 far as eye can reach, 

 past the Moorish Tem- 

 ple, from the Bastion by 

 Matyas to the turn of 

 the stream, a myriad 

 lights ceaselessly twin- 

 kle. 



He who has sailed 

 past the Isle of Roses to 

 the noble harbor on the 

 Parramatta,* who has 

 cast anchor under Vesu- 

 vius, who has seen the 

 fair places of the earth 

 from the Golden Horn 

 to the Golden Gate, 

 from Kiev to Rio, may 

 bid them hush their ri- 

 valries, for when twi- 

 light has deepened, when 

 the full moon is rising 

 in the blue velvet over 

 Buda, the loveliest pano- 

 rama of them all slowly 

 unfolds. The gems are 

 the gems of old, but the 

 setting is new. 



You are standing on 

 the Corso, in Asia. 

 Cross over, climb the 

 hill upon the other side ; 

 stand upon the walls of 

 a dismantled fortress, 

 where stood the merci- 

 less Austrian in 1849; 

 now look down upon the 

 changeless river, moving, as since the 

 dawn of history it has moved, the warder 

 on the confines of two worlds. Here 

 was the Gate of the West. Beyond the 

 eagles never flew, the legions never 

 watched, the word of Csesar never 

 passed. A thousand years go by; the 

 Pannonian Legion is no more ; the Co- 

 Ionia of Aquincum is "one with Nineveh 

 and Tyre" ; all else has changed, but the 

 Gate remains. Now it is the outpost of 

 Islam, and the Buda Hills form the 

 watch-tower of Christendom. It is here, 

 not at Lepanto, that the Crescent wanes 



* Sydney, Australia. 



,'^^- 



Photo by A. W. Cutler 

 THE BACK OF THE BRIDE SEEN IN THE PRECEDING PHOTO- 

 GRAPH : A MASS OE GORGEOUSLY COEORED RIBBONS 



At first glance it appears to be some rare beetle of colossal 

 dimensions. The loose girdle around the waist is of white 

 cotton. 



when, for the third time in history, two 

 civilizations contend for the ages to be. 

 Look out now to the low-lying Mar- 

 garet Isle ; look behind, far into the night, 

 upon the verge of illimitable plains ; look 

 upon the spires and domes, the towers 

 and minarets, of the Grenada of the 

 North ; look where you will, the thought 

 that this is still, as ever, the debatable 

 land is ever more insistent. Here it is 

 that the well-nigh irresistible force, an 

 atavistic cultus, breaking back upon the 

 path of the rising sun, has come upon 

 the well-nigh immovable body — the pas- 

 sionless, dreamy fatalism of the Orient. 



347 



