I spare the reader a 

 chronicle of our suc- 

 cessive risings up and 

 lyings down at Vato- 

 pethi. He may, how- 

 ever, be interested to 

 hear of the way in 

 which they were regu- 

 lated. The first time 

 I became conscious, in 

 the watches of the 

 night, of that all-per- 

 vasive hammering, I 

 thought pirates must 

 be upon us, as in days 

 of old. 



WHERE BELLS ARE 

 TABOO 



Then I remembered 

 that Greek monks are 

 called to prayer in a 

 fashion of their own. 

 Bells are not regarded 

 with too much favor 

 in the Levant. The 

 fact that they are an 

 innovation borrowed, 

 albeit in the tenth cen- 

 tury, from schismatic 

 Venice makes the 

 orthodox doubt their 

 appeal, while the 

 Turks object to them 

 even more strongly, 

 lest they disturb wan- 

 dering spirits. For all 

 ordinary purposes the 

 monks use in their 

 stead a hanging 

 wooden plank, or 

 sometimes a smaller 

 metal bar, of which 

 the necessary concomitant is a stout mal- 

 let. The rhythmic echo of these instru- 

 ments is the most characteristic sound of 

 Mt. Athos, the voice, as it were, of its 

 loyalty to other. times. Twice a day, or 

 every eight hours during seasons of fast- 

 ing, it calls the monks to church. 



And the stranger within their gates di- 

 vides his hours accordingly. His break- 

 fast is ready, if he is not, at the close of 

 the night service. Shall I add that we 

 were a little dismayed to be presented, in 

 lieu of this meal, with the inevitable tray? 

 I must confess that I am not fond of a 



IN THE CHURCH OF VATOPETHI 



Photograph by H. G. Dwight 

 MT. ATHOS, GREECE 



In the rear is seen part of the richly carved and gilded screen 

 which in a Greek church divides the altar from the chancel. The 

 large icon at the right is one of the more highly prized treasures 

 of the monastery, having been saved from the Church of St. Sophia 

 in Saloniki just before that city was first captured by the Turks. 



beefsteak breakfast, and that I have no 

 scruple against a liqueur ; but I don't care 

 for it the first thing in the morning, with 

 nothing to go with it but a spoonful of 

 jam and a thimbleful of black coffee. 

 We had to beg the astonished cook for 

 a bite of bread, and to lay in a secret 

 stock of chocolate from Karyes, in or- 

 der to keep us going till lunch. This 

 came early, either just before or just 

 after the morning service, while dinner 

 is always served at dark, to give the 

 fathers time for a nap before the night 

 office. 



261 



