Photograph by Herbert Corey 



ST. PAUL S ROCK IN SALON I KI 



According to a local tradition that has persisted for centuries, St. Paul fulfilled in 

 Saloniki the scriptural injunction of "shaking off the very dust from his feet" as a testimony 

 against the Thessalonians of his day. That they took to heart his act is witnessed by this 

 historic rock on its three-step pedestal. 



''And who is to pay me for my cow ?" 

 she asked. "What have I to do with 

 your war? I want pay for my cow that 

 is dead." 



GERMAN FLIERS WATCH THE ALLIED 

 PLANS 



Sometimes the enemy fliers visit the 

 Monastir road. On many a pleasant day 

 they fly over Saloniki, ioo miles distant 

 from their lines, on missions of recon- 

 naissance. It is desirable to know how 

 many ships there are in the harbor, for 

 in this way they can keep an eye upon 

 the Allied plans. 



It is not often that they drop bombs. 

 Usually they come at the noon hour, when 

 all leisured Saloniki is taking its coffee in 

 front of its favorite cafe. No one goes 

 to shelter ; it isn't worth while. Perhaps 

 no bombs will be dropped, and if bombs 

 are dropped experience has told those be- 

 neath that running and dodging are futile 

 ways in which to attempt to escape. 



It is not this conviction of futility, but 



real indifference, however, which keeps 

 most men and women in their seats. 

 They are "fed up" on aeroplanes, as the 

 British say. 



Sometimes this indifference is carried 

 to an extreme. One day I visited for the 

 first time a hospital on the Monastir road. 

 There were pretty girl nurses there — 

 several of them. Next door was an am- 

 munition dump. Further on were hang- 

 ars for the war fliers. On a recent visit 

 an enemy plane, no doubt intending to 

 bomb the ammunition depot, had dropped 

 bombs instead in the midst of the hos- 

 pital tents. 



The surgeon in charge was a practical 

 man of forethought and reason. He had 

 funk-holes dug all over the place — many 

 funk-holes. No matter how unexpect- 

 edly a flier appeared, one had but to dive 

 for the entrance of a funk-hole. It was 

 somewhat rabbity, perhaps, but the plan 

 was sound and safe. 



"Boche coming," trilled one of the 

 pretty nurses. 



392 



