July 5, 1917 
LAND * WATER 
ro 
work containing illuminations of great 
beauty. Age had caused no fading 
or deterioration of the brilliant reus 
and golds and blues and yellows ; 
inspection through a strong readirg 
glass failed to find any flaw in the 
ancient workmanship. The time spent 
amongst such treasures was all too 
short ; truth to say, our guides did not 
seem at liome there, and the offi-cial 
librarian unfortunately was net at hand 
Before \isiting the library we had 
beep joined by brother Diodorus, a 
delightful old man of over seventy. 
He spoke English well and was for- 
merly in our Merchant Service. He 
had withdrawn from the world some 
fifteen years before and joined the 
Hatopedian Brotherhood, and is now 
waiting to sing his A"«<nc Dimittis. 
From the library Brother Diodorus 
took us to his private room, spotlessly 
clean and neat and not the least little 
bit like an austere monastic cell. A 
window gay with flowers and a bal- 
cony covered with a richly-laden vine 
spoke of one who, though with- 
diawn from the wo^ld, could yet 
rejoice in the bounty with which God has blessed it. 
We spent some time here chatting in English with the old 
man, and then went down into the main court to visit tl.e 
monastery chapel. Here there was much to stir our eager 
Vine-Clad Balcony, Brother Diodorus' Room 
interest and arouse cur sense of mystery. The Iconostasis, 
the lofty sanctuary screen, was resplendent with ancient 
icons ; the gilded carving and fine brass filigree work glowed 
warmly in the patient light of many candles. There was 
nothing here of the grotesque, tawdry or cheap which so often 
spoils beautiful sanctuary screens in the churches of the 
Orthodox Communion. On the altar, which stood under a 
baldachino in the midst of the sanctuary, was a small silver 
cross of the most delicate workmanship imaginable. Into 
the front and back of the cross were inlaid panels of cedar 
wood each about one inch square ; each exquisitely carved 
to pourtray a scene from the Gospel story. Resting in a 
socket at the back of the altar was the magnificent silver 
cross ot Constantme the Great, now carried in procession on 
great festivals. Amongst other treasures, too, \vc were shown 
a richly jecorated two-leaved icon dating from the eight li 
century ; also a chalice of much beauty, the cup of which. 
some seven inches in diameter, waS of jasper delicately 
wrought and transparently thin. It was supported en a 
base of silver by two dragon-like figures, their fore-feet resting 
General View of Mount Athos 
on the rim and their quaintly fashioned heads peering into 
the chalice. There is in the woild only one similar chalice, 
now in S. Mark's; \'enice. Both originally came from S. 
Sophia, Constantinople. 
We left this treasure house of Byzantine art reluctantly, 
but time was pressing, and went across the courtyard to the 
refectory. This ancient building is no longer used, as the 
monastery of Batopedios now belongs to the later form of 
monastic Ufe on Mount Athos. The monks live in separate 
apartments, and possess property of their own. Their affairs 
are administered by a sort of board of directors who are 
elected for a definite term. 
From the refectory, we adjourned to the guest-chamber 
for refreshment before leaving. As we were going out through 
the courtyard, where grave-faced monks were pacing in the 
cool of the evening, the clock in the bell-tower showed three 
minutes to the hour. The brother responsible for the clock 
happened to be with us', and he wished us to wait and see 
the hour struck on the bell by the old watch-keeping warrior. 
So we stood and watched the minute hand move round — 
two minutes, one minute, the hour — and nothing happened ! 
The old monk had forgotten to wind up the striking machinery' 
that morning, and it had run down after the previous hour 
had been struck. The poor old fellow retired in confusion 
amidst thfe laughter and kin.Uy chaff of his brother monks 
The brethren now accompanied us down to the landing 
jetty. The sun had set and the western slcy was deepening 
into violet. The hills guarding the entrance to the Rendina 
Gorge (through which S. Paul once pressed to Salonica with 
his urgent message), cast deep black reflections in the ca m 
motionless sea ; so that it was hard to define where substance 
ended and shadow began. Almost we were persuaded that 
the war was an evil dream. Next day we were lying off the 
mouth of the Struma, while our ship's guns poured lycldite 
shell into the enemy's trenches and organisations. And so 
life goes on in the ^Egean. Active service to the full — 
blockading the enemy's ports, bombarding the Bulgarian and 
Turkish coasts, keeping an eye on the slippeiy Greek, hunting 
the modern pirate of the seas, patrolling and sweeping the 
narrow and dangerous waters between the /Egean Isles ; and 
with it all, priceless opportunities for experiences. 
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Gourtyard of the Monastery 
