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T was reported recently that the am
bassadors of the powers had decided
that Mount Athos was to be regard
ed as an independent ecclesiastical
republic. Mount Athos. near the
gulf of Saloniki, is a locality little
known, but it is one of the most in
teresting in the world. On the end
of a peninsula jutting into the
-• Aegean sea. the mountain shoots up more than
6,000 feet, and its peak of white limestone is a
landmark for many miles out to sea. The old
Greek legend was that the giant Athos hurled
this mountain at the gods upon ’Olympus, but
that it dropped back and fell at the edge of the
sea.
The entire peninsula, of which Mount Athos
forms the southernmost point, is about forty
miles long and from four to seven miles in w'idth,
cut by numerous ravines and by long arms of
the sea. The narrow isthmus which connects the
mountain with the main peninsula was cut by a
canal built by Xerxes when he came to invade
Greece, and traces of the canal are still visible,
though it has long since become dry land.
The slopes of Mount Athos have for many cen
turies been the home of monks and hermits of
the Greek church. Most of the monasteries
which cling to the steep slopes of the mountain
were founded by Byzantine emperors; one of
the oldest, the monastery of St. Laura, has been
in existence since 968. There are still several
thousand monks living upon the mountain, sup
porting themselves by tilling hillside farms and
living very much as their predecessors did a
thousand years ago.
In 1,600 years no woman has been allowed to
set foot on Athos. Few travelers ever come to
Athos; It lies out of the beaten track of travel,
and the monks would not welcome intruders.
Since the fall of the Byzantine empire and
Constantinople, in 1453, Athos has been nomi
nally under Turkish rule. The Turks, however,
have been liberal in their treatment of the Greek
Catholic monks, and have permitted them prac
tically to govern themselves. A council com
posed of representatives of the several monas
teries has maintained law and order in the col
ony.
The comparatively lew tingnsn ana European
travelers who have ever been to Athos unite in
enthusiastic praise of the natural beauties of the
f place. The steep sides of the mountains are heav
*lly wooded with huge oak and chestnut trees,
while here and there pine and cypress give a
touch of deeper color. The roads windr in and
out along the mountain side, frequently affording
glimpses of the deep blue sea which frets at
Athos’ feet.
Through the Middle Ages the Athos monas
teries were the treasure houses in which much
of the learning and culture of the Greeks was
preserved to the world. The monks must have
spent a world of time patiently copying the
works of the old masters, and the' libraries of
' Athos, even today, contain much that is fascinat
ing to the antiquarian and the bookiover. But
the monks themselves have fallen into sad igno
rance; the libraries of the monasteries are little
used and some of them have been permitted to
go completely to rack.
At Mount Athos. according to legend, the Vir
gin Mary and St. Thomas were wrecked and then
miraculously saved; and since that day of grace
no female foot has been allowed to tread the
peninsula of Athos; Indeed, since the' eleventh
century no female animals whatever have been
permitted there. It is said that the only excep
tion ever made to this rule in the last live hun
dred years was in favor of Lady Stratford de
Redcliffe, and it is kept so strictly that not only
must the whole population be masculine, but
hens even- may not live on the rock, hence all
the eggs, of. which a great number are consumed,
tlon of the Holy Moun
Garden of the Moth
and seven thousand,
iisand monks and three
others. Most of the
are also many Rus
and some Bulgarians,
The Turks respected
xgNOPHozr
the privileges of the monks, who submitted after
the capture of Salonica and agreed to pay
tribute. The republic has, up to this time, been
directed by a council elected by the monasteries.
The common seal of this council, which Is divided
into quarters for that purpose, is in the cus
tody of the four senior members. Mount Athos,
the second most holy place in eastern Christen
dom, is at the extremity of the peninsula of
Athos, the easternmost peninsula of Chalcidice
In Macedonia, which projects into the Aegean
sea and is connected with the mainland by a nar
row isthmus, which was pierced by a canal dur
ing the Invasion of Xerxes. The monasteries are
scattered over the entire peninsula.
A most interesting account of a visit to Mount
Athos is contained in a book writteri in 1837 by
an Englishman, Robert Curzon, who went book
hunting to the mountain. Speaking of a visit to
one monkish library, he wrote:
"The library I found to be In a dark closet
near the entrance of the church. It had been
locked up for many years, but the agoumenos
(head of the monastery) made no difficulty in
breaking the old-fashioned padlock by which the
door was fastened. I found upon the ground and
upon some of the broken-down shelves about 400
to 500 volumes, chiefly printed books, but among
them now and then I stumbled upon a manu
script. Of these there were about thirty on vel
lum and fifty or sixty on paper. I picked up a
single loose leaf of very ancient uncial Greek
characters, part of the Gospel of St. Matthew.
I made bold to ask for this single leaf as a thing
of small value.
“‘Certainly.’ said the agoumenos, 'what do
you want it for?’
My servant suggested that perhaps It might
be useful to cover some jam pots or vases of
preserves which I had at home.
"‘Oh!’ said the agoumer.os. ‘take some more,'
and without more ado he seized upon an unfortu
nate thick quarto manuscript of the Acts and
Epistles and, drawing out a knife, cut an inch
thickness of leaves at the end before I could stop
him. It proved to be the Apocalypse, which con
cluded the volume, but which is rarely found in
early Greek manuscripts of the Acts. It was of
the eleventh century. I asked him if he would
sell me any of the other hooks, and he said cer
tainly; they were of no use to him.”
One monk whom Curzon talked with in the
course of his journey round the mountain could
never remember having seen a woman. He
asked the Englishman whether they all looked
like the pictures of the Virgin Mary. Curzon
had an amusing experience with the agoumenos
of another monastery. He tells It thus: .
“The agoumenos declared his willingness to
show me everything the monastery contained.
“ 'But first,’ said he, ‘I wish to present you
with something excellent for your breakfast.’
"Bo I expressed my thanks for the kind hos
pitality of my Lord Abbot, and he, sitting down
opposite me on the divan, proceeded to prepare
his dish.
“ ‘This,’ said he, producing a shallow basin
half full of a white paste, ‘is the principal and
most savory part of this famous dish; It Is com
posed of cloves of garlic, pounded down with a
certain quantity of sugar. With It I will now mix
the oil In just proportions, some shreds of fine
cheese and sundry other nice little condiments,
and now It is completed.’
M<Now,’ said the agoumenos, crumbling some
bread into It with his lar^e and somewhat dirty
hands, ‘this Is a dish for an emperor. Eat, my
friend, my much respected guest; do not be shy.’
<£mVP£275A
"My servant saved me at last;
he said that English gentlemen
never ate such rich dishes for
breakfast, from religious feel
ings he believed, but requested
that it might be put by and
was sure I should like it very
much later in the day.”
Mount Athos has seen few
changes in the last 100 years.
Except for an earthquake,
which did some damage to the
monasteries in 1905, the coun
try is much as it was when
Curzon visited it in the early
years of Queen Victoria’s reign.
But the proposed republic which
is to be founded there upon the
downfall of Turkey may bring
about a great awakening in the
"sacred mountain.”
BEAUTIES OF THE SOUTH
The world Is just awakening to the fact that
South American women are beautiful and fasci
nating and that the palm for charm and loveli
ness is fast being wrested from their Xorth
American sisters. Perhaps the most beautiful ot
all these new beauties come from Argentina, the
land of surprises and wonders, and they seem to
have found what Ponce de Leon sought further
north—the fountain of youth.
The Argentine women dress better, look bet
ter and have finer manners than any other wom
en in the world. They are enchanting creatures,
and even now Europe is learning of their great
charm and beauty. They are fond of home life
and make ideal mothers, although they are not
domestic to a sordid degree. They are as fond
of society as the women of the United States,
only they are absolutely without the faintest
trace of snobbishness, which is probably due to
their breeding. They are wonderfully well in
formed and well bred women, and strangely
enough their social obligations are never such
as to interfere with their home life.
They are a pleasure-loving people, fond of mu
sic, drama and entertainment. The latest styles
are brought over from Paris, which is responsi
ble for the introduction of the first artists of
Europe, who are frequently heard in Buenos
Ayres before they come to the United States.
The people of Argentina make less of their three
weeks’ sail to France than we do of our one
week's sail. They are very fond of Paris, and
adopt more customs and manners from the
French than from Americans or English.
The South American woman is becoming a
great factor abroad. She has attracted the at
tention of shopkeepers, for she is as rich as the
North American and even more lavish with her
money and grace, for she has no duty to pay on
her purchases and spends her millions with an
open hand. She loves rich and beautiful things,
and wears her clothes well with a great deal of
dash and splendor, so that the great modistes
and milliners have been turned away from the
North American beauty and her scrimping pur
chases because of her duties and pouring all
their amiability upon the belles from Argentina
and Brazil, and even Chile. For oh, they are
rich! And they are growing richer with their
mines and vast herds of cattle and sheep and
their rubber and coffee plantations, their new
railroads and real estate deals, and all sorts of
other enterprises that make for sudden and vast
wealth In new countries.
The rich South American woman makes Paris
her playground. One rarely finds her In London.
She does not like England cr the English, but
Paris and the French people just suit her, as she,
i like them, is of the Latin race, with all th6
warmth and gayety of such people.
The Simple Life.
s “Are you able to be bappy since you lost your
i money?"
{ “Oh, yes. I And simple food agrees with me
jbetter, and you have no Idea how many worthy
people go In for walking as a fad.”
Best Phyeiclan.
Guest—Yes, my wife has been 111, but she Is out.
tgaln now.
Hostess—What doctor did you have? i
1 Guest—No doctor at all. I bought her a 'new
w
<
am
CAME FROM FARM
Utility Girl Was Also From Coun
try, and Became Wife of
Good Customer. . (
By SUSANNE GLENN.
Lacy Lane was a sort of utility girl
at Madam Lorimer’s establishment.
Most of her time was spent in the
back room ripping trimmings from
hats that needed altering, or chang
ing the length of garments.
Lucy did not often get a chance to
wait on customers. Her face was too
thin and colorless to be pretty, and
she wore unlovely, serviceable
dresses; Madam liked to have every
thing in her establishment exquisitely
sweet and attractive.
But Lucy did not complain. She
was only too thankful for the situa
tion as It stood, and wondered why
Madame kept her at all. She was
too modest to realize the value of
her painstaking service.
She was thankful, to, for her mis
erable little hall-bedroom, because she
had always been able to keep her
room to herself.
But even with thiB fund of "thank
fulness” at her command, Lucy
would have had a hard time if it had
not been for her dreams!
When the back room or the hall
bedroom became insufferably hot and
breathless, she dreamed about the
green grass, the waving trees, the re
freshing breezes of her beloved coun
try where she had spent early years
of her life.
When the rumble of drays and the
crash of cars made her head throb,
she dreamed of the drowsy afternoons
filled with the droning of bees and
crickets, and the croaking of frogs at
twilight.
When her fingers were blue with
cold, she dreamed of the crackling of
fragrant wood fires and the warmth
of yellow lamplight.
Then, Quite uuexpectedly one day, a
new impetus was added to them. She
was standing near the front door wait
ing for a dress that needed altering,
when a man entered and looked about
uncertainly.
The face above his neat, white col
lar was ruddy from sun and wind,
with a white band across the fore
head where his hat gave protection.
Everything about him, from his fine,
steady eyes to his easy, plain suit of
gray wool spoke to Lucy of the coun
try, and when their eyes met, she
smiled unconsciously, as upon a
friend.
“Can you wait on me?" inquired the
man, stepping forward.
“One of the other girls will know
more about things," suggested Lucy,
modestly.
“But I prefer you,” he smiled. “You
see, I'm not just sure what I do
want, and 1 know you will not laugh
at me.- It may seem ridiculous, but
do you know it is very disconcerting
to be laughed at under such cir
cumstances?"
“I promise you not to laugh," said
Lucy. “Now tell me what you wish'.’
“All sorts of things for a baby a
year old. Yes, everything, he seems
to be about out of everything. Yes.
he lives in the country, and needs
Just everyday things, you know. And
not too many white things—his moth
er is pretty busy!”
Lucy smiled, and made suggestions.
The man bought lavishly.
“There, I think that will do,” he
agreed at last. "I never would have
thought about his outgrowing them.
Now, a couple of suits for dress-up,
and I guess it will do.
Never had Lucy made up a box with
greater care. She almost felt like
crawling under the cover herself for
the sake of getting back to the
country.
That evening she was happy think
ing about the baby with his store of
new things. The autumn wind that
rattled the loose frame of her win
dow so dismally would make music in
the chimney before which the mother
would be trying on the little gar
ments.
To Lucy’s delight, the man came
again to Madame Lorimer's. She was
in the back room bent almost double
over a bit of dark sewing in the dim
autumn afternoon, but he asked for
her, and Madame called her, well
pleased.
“It is the little girl this time,” he
said. “She is four years old and rath
er small for her age. I wanted to
bring her along, but her mother
thought it was too cold. I came to you
again, because you did so well by me
before—the, little fellow has looked
as fine as a king all winter!"
Lucy flushed wltu pleasure and ex
citement while she picked out sensi
ble little rompers and gingham frocks
and stout stockings, followed by the
dainty white frocks and frilly petti
coats dear to every child's heart.
“You had better tell me your name,”
suggested the man, as he prepared to
leave. “I’m liable to have to come
again, and I’d like to know whom to
ask for. My name 1b Richard Falk
ner.”
“I used to know of Falkners when
I lived In the country,” said Lucy, giv
ing her name.
‘1 suspect, then,” said Falkner, “you
must belong to the Wayland Comer
Lanes?" And they proceeded to get
very well acquainted Indeed.
Occasionally through the winter
Falkner came for something for the
two children. Occasionally an old
neighbor of Lucy’s found the way In,
following his directions.
None of this escaped the eagle eye
of Madame Lorimer. Could It be there
was the making of a saleslady In her
plain, little utility girl?
With the New Year, Lucy’s pay en
r
velope bad an increase sufficient t_
warrant a prettier gown, and ahe
spent less time in the back room.
Yet Lucy was strangely unhappy.
Her dreams of the country brought ah
unaccountable ache to her heart ‘
felt a dread of seeing Falkner,
presence had once seemed the '
link between her and her old, happy
life.
Lucy felt tired, too. Perhaps ft
was the added responsibility and ex
citement of the front room.
Month by month her improved ap
pearance spoke of the increase In her
wages. But with all her prosperity,
the girl’s face held the same kind
look that made people trust her.
Lucy stood near the front door
the night before Easter, watching thl
weary girls returning from their has1’
suppers. The rush for the past w
had been almost intolerable.
She did not notice Palkner’s
trance, until he spoke, close beside
her.
"Good evening. Why, you are so
fine, Miss Lane, 1 hardly knew
you!”
Lucy tried to smile as she inquired
what he wished.
“Nothing for the children this time.
I have decided that their mother
ought to have her chance this trip.
Don’t ail the ladies lily* new1 bonnets
and things at Easter time, Miss
Lucy?”
Lucy’s courage faltered for an In
stant. Then she sensibly remembered
that she was first of all taleslady for
Madame Lorimer!
“I should say that anything you can
wear would just about fit her. And
you’ll just have to go ahead by your
self; I am more at sea than I 'was
with the children’s fixings."
The girl mechanically made a selec
tion of serviceable garments that she
though suited a busy, country worn
an.
"Now the 'bonnet,' " she said, smil
ing.
“Try them on," commanded Falltner
admiringly. “But pick out something
sober—she isn't a very lively wom
an any more.’’
“But she must be a very happy
one.” exclaimed Lucy, imperiously.
“Why do you think that?”
“How could she help being with
two dear little children, and a good
home, and—so kind a husband." Her
voice trailed off, miserably.
“But that is just exactly what she
doesn’t have. He is worse than a fail
ure as a husband, if he is my own
brother. And her home is about as
poor as you can imagine. But she
sticks by him for some unaccountable
reason. I try to do what I can for
her. Why, Lucy, did you think—"
He paused and looked into her flush
ed, embarrassed face.
“And tell me, dear, did you care?’’
He crushed her hand., in his own, to
the immediate peril of the ‘sober’ lit
tle hat she was holding.
“I—I—’’
"Listen,” he said, in a matter-of-fact
voice, "this isn't much of a time or
place to tell you what 1 v.ish to—but
I’m going to risk it.
“Lucy, I came especially to ask
you to come home with me. I've
dreamed all winter what life would
be like with you. Will you marry me,
tomorrow?"
She looked deep into
“And now," he said with a happy
laugh, “let’s pick out your Easter
bonnet—dear!”
(Copyright, 1913, by the McClure News
paper Syndicate.)
Knew He Was Safe.
It was in the office of a frontier ho
tel wherein a score of fully armed
miners and cowboys were sitting
about waiting for bedtime. A west
erner anti' a newcomer from "back
East” entered Presently the latter
said something about the “gentle
men” present. “Gentlemen!” said the
westerner in a loud tone of voice,
“with the exception of two or three
men present there isn't a gentleman
in the room!” The newcomer felt
sure something would happen, but
when none of the crowd resented the
remark he cautiously asked the
westerner how he had dared to make
such a statement. "Oh, I know evettjr;
man present would deem himself onefr
of the two or three gentlemen to
whom I had referred." '>•.
Don Cipriano. Castilian.
Cipriano-Castro before be v.-on by
force of arms and ambition to the dic
tatorship of Venezuela was a cattle
herder in the mountain region of Los
Andes. Now that he is an ex-dictator
it is his fancy to wear the airs of a
Castilian and a grandee of Spain. Es
pecially hi deals In high-flown com
pliment when the ladles are in ques
tion.
Recently. In New York he m^t In the
house of a friend a girl whose six feet I
of fair young womanhood offered a
striking contrast to the figure of the
little great man—all of five foot four |
from heel to crown.
Don Cipriano was presented and |
bent low over the tall girl’s hand.
“Senorita," he said, “it is the goda|
that give height.”
Not for Him.
“Hello there, Mr. Broadway!” halls
Woodlelgh as he spied his friend i
Ing out of the theater. ‘‘I've
looking for you. I want you to con
up to the. Adlrondacks with me
summer. You know the scenery
simply great!”
“That may be,” wearily respon
Mr. Broadway, “but what good Is
scenery without the chorust”
During the Noon Haur.
Pat (lunching beaide the .
Here comes Father Ryan. Put
hat on. „ . ; '
Mike—rAn’ • phwy should If
Pat—do ye fen take it eC
rlverlnce, ye foot \ '•••/.