We were up very early to see the first beams of Aurora, and we were well rewarded, earth and sea combining to make one feel how beautiful it is to live. The mysterious beauty of the misty mitre-peaked hills on the land side of us, rosy in the gilded dawn, filled our minds with imagination. On the other side, gleaming like the facets of an emerald, lay Samos, noted for its vintage, its figs and oil, the dark olive mounts, showing against the tender foliage of orange and lemon groves. On we went until we came to Rhodes, with its great harbour, once famed for its colossus erected to Apollo, but long since levelled to the ground by seismic agencies. It must have appeared like a mighty janitor watching down the centuries, worshipped as a deity by the wonderful race who lived there. We chummed with five young Russian ladies, who, with their chaperon, were journeying to the Holy Sepulchre, and we were shown the presents of silver and crosses which they were to lay on the shrine. We extracted much pleasure from their company, and we would not like to disclose how many cups of tea we consumed from the ever-boiling samovar, which these ladies dispensed every time they could induce us to visit the cabin de luxe reserved for their special use. They will always hold a place in our memory. On leaving Rhodes, we steamed away from the coast and we turned in towards Cyprus, passing the Gulf of Adalia. The Island of Cyprus is noted for its ancient copper mines, its magnificent temples, statues to the deities, and frescoes covered with the dust of centuries. From there we made for the mainland, remaining at the small town of Alexandretta but a few hours. Everything was extremely Oriental. We saw a number of Mohammaden women, attended by an eunuch, walking along, their yasmaks now and again lowered, and a pair of laughing young eyes disclosed. How the dark eyes, some very dreamy looking, of these wise children of the East (some of them the Bedouin Arabs, the descendants of Ishmael) have been, century after century, centred on these Eastern nights of splendour, watching the heavens--wiser than we in things pertaining to nature. We next come to Tripoli, with its long-robed bearded priests and sheiks, and veiled women, and the dogs, those scavengers of the east, the bazaars, and beautiful foliage. When we came to Beyrout there was a great stir, so many persons disembarking, some for Beyrout, but more bent for Damascus, beyond the Mountain of Lebanon, and some crossing the Syrian deserts for Bagdad. We bought some immense bunches of pink, blue and white double violets which came from Sharon. Damascus, the oldest city in the world, is famed chiefly for its finely wrought steel instruments in the shape of swords, daggers, knives, stilettos, some of them magnificent specimens of artistic skill, and often encrusted with jewels of great value.