We then went to the Cathedral of St. John, saw the Alexandrian Gate, and the places set apart for worshippers of different sects, after which we joined in a service in the central portion. Later on towards sunset, we hired a fiacre with a Pegasus-like winged steed attached, and the way that sorry horse flew along was marvellous. No whip was needed, and to say he was as thin as a herring would be a libel on the herring. Anyhow, we arrived safely at Valetta, the Government residence, and visited the famous orange gardens. We returned to the ship, dined on board, and then in the evening went toiling up again to the Royal Opera House. The scene was very brilliant. An Italian Company was performing, and the artistes were loaded with floral tributes. The next day we were off again, and steamed to Cape Malea--but “that’s another story.” [Illustration: text decoration] SMYRNA. It was a glorious morning when we arrived off Malea, and we steamed near enough to distinguish the plateau on the rock where the celebrated old hermit--who isolated himself in that lonely spot for so many years--had always, on the approach of a vessel, advanced waving a flag. The promontory passed, we were out of the Mediterranean, and we slowly passed the maze of islands--the Cyclades--past Milo and Delos, famed in song and story, Andros and Nicaria, and soon were making our way into the Ægean Sea towards the volcanic island of Chios or Cos. This island is off the Gulf of Smyrna, and has frequently been devastated by seismic agencies. It was a thrilling experience passing through the Gulf, and there, in the light of evening, lay that ancient city--one of the seven Churches of Asia--with its background of everlasting hills, beneath a turquoise sky, carrying one’s mind back down the centuries, when St. Paul himself preached there, and delivered the message to the churches. Smyrna is the key of Asia Minor, and Anatolia is as large as France. After our luggage had been inspected, we, after some altercation with the drivers of various vehicles, were driven to our hotel, and, after divesting ourselves of our travelling attire, we descended to the table-d’-hôte, where dinner was served à la Russe. We noted the many little dishes filled, one for each guest, with black and green olives, and fresh beady-looking black caviare, the roe of the sturgeon, indigenous to the Black Sea. It was a truly cosmopolitan company which sat down to dine--so many nationalities being represented--for Smyrna to-day is a very large and important city of the near east.