Awake in the morning with the sun streaming in and with the sounds of cocks crowing and chickens clucking. Looking out, the view of the conical beautiful hills makes me almost catch my breath, and, God bless my soul! a Greek peasant maiden, beauteous to look upon and fair of complexion, is feeding her pigs and chickens. After breakfast at the Grand Britannia Hotel (sounds like the Ritz, London, doesn’t it?), Duff, of all people, rolls up with Munro. We all lunch together, and then roam round the village, buy a few things, and take photographs. After tea, Duff goes on to Castra, by the sea on the other side of the island, and Munro and I go back to camp. It is beautiful riding back through the hills in the late afternoon. Perfect day and colouring gorgeous. Nearing camp we get a fine view of Gallipoli. All is so peaceful where we are, but just over that narrow strip of sea, war rules in its most horrible form. Have dinner with Cox, of the Essex, who turns in at 8.30, and I go back to Headquarters and have an after-dinner smoke with the General and Staff, sitting round a little table in the marquee lit by candle-light. _September 3rd._ Start off with Phillips on a donkey and pony respectively over the hills again. A gorgeous morning, and it is good to be alive. Peasants give us delightful grapes as we ride along. Sheep are grazing, their bells tinkling, with a few cows and bullocks, and now and again a covey of partridges rises. Arriving at Panaghia, we have a bottle of beer, and then go on along the road to Castra, by the sea. Castra is situated on a high hill overlooking the sea, with a few fishermen’s huts on the beach. The Isle of Samothrace, which is a cluster of mountains rising sheer from the sea, lies opposite. The sea is dead calm, and of a gorgeous blue. A few fishing boats lie in a tiny little harbour on the right of the little bay, which is flanked by hills. In the background are more hills and low wooded valleys, and we feel as if we had stepped into the Garden of Eden. Duff is here, and we have lunch, after which Duff returns to camp. Phillips and I go up on the cliff and have a delightful sleep. Everything is dead quiet, and there is not a cloud in the sky. We are right away from the world, and the scene before us—that of the blue Ægean with Samothrace a few miles away—has not changed for thousands of years. After tea, we have a bathe in beautifully clear, warm water, and no rocks. The evening closes in, and the colouring thrown by the declining sun on Samothrace is beautiful. A boat with a square sail comes sailing home, looking like “the return of Ulysses.” After dinner we turn in and sleep on the floor of the veranda. _September 4th._