Whenever there was a difficulty the monks came to me; why, I cannot imagine. If the shepherd's goats invaded their gardens and destroyed the onions and the beet-root crops, they applied to me. Of course I advised them to "fence their gardens," and they went away satisfied, but did not carry out the suggestion so in due time their crops were devoured. They now told me that THEY ALWAYS HAD DIFFICULTY WITH WOMEN! This new theory startled me almost as much as the novelty of the old monks' stories. They explained that YOUNG WOMEN WOULDN'T WORK, AND OLD WOMEN COULDN'T WORK. It had not occurred to them that a middle-aged woman might have combined all that they desired. Knowing their strict moral principles, I had suggested an "old woman" as the successor of Christina; as I explained to them that, to be in harmony with the establishment, a woman of a "certain age" as general servant would not detract from the religious character of the place. However I might argue, the old monk hesitated; but while the monk wavered, Christina's "monkey was up," and, taking her child in her arms, she started off without giving a "month's notice," and fairly left the monastery, with monks, priests, deacons, servants and the dogs all aghast and barking. There was nobody to wash the linen, to bake the bread, to sweep the rooms, to cook the dinner, to mend the clothes! Christina was gone, and the gentle sex was no longer represented in the monastery of Trooditissa. I was sorry for Christina, but I was glad the child was gone; although I pitied the poor abandoned and neglected little creature with all my heart. As a rule, "maids of all work" should not be mothers, but if they are, they should endeavour to care for the unfortunate child. This wretched little thing was about two years old--a girl; its eyes were nearly closed with inflammation caused by dirt and neglect; it was naked, with the exception of a filthy rag that hung in tatters scarcely below its hips; and as its ill-tempered and over-worked mother alternately raved, or cried, the child, which even at this age depended mainly upon her nursing for its food, joined in a perpetual yell, which at length terminated in a faint and wearied moan, until it laid itself down upon the bare, hard stones, and fell asleep. It was a sad picture of neglect and misery; the shepherd's pretty children shunned it, and in its abandoned solitude the little creature had to amuse itself. The face looked like that of an old careworn person who had lost all pleasure in the world, and the child wandered about alone and uncared for; its only plaything was my good-tempered dog Wise, who allowed himself to be pulled about and teased in the most patient manner. I cured the child's eyes after some days' attention, and my wife had it washed, and made it decent clothes. This little unusual care, with a few kind words in a strange language only interpreted by a smile, attracted the poor thing