Copyright, Harris-Ewing, ’08.] We saw what the traveler to Messina has seen through the centuries—one of the beautiful places of the earth bathed in the light of the rising sun. We were close to the shore, it is true, and could make out the ruins. The palaces fronting along the stately Marina were roofless. There were gaps between the palaces—white heaps of debris. Toppling buildings, and houses without outer walls, like children’s doll houses, could be made out. Here and there out of a roof came flames and curling smoke. But to see all this one had to look for it. What attracted the eye, and compelled attention through the magical appeal of its beauty, was a broad expanse of still water, protected from the sea by a projecting point of land; then a flat water front, two or three miles long; and behind, circle after circle of hills, bewildering in their rich variety of form and color. This was the real Messina, you felt, what an ancient phraseology would call its formal and final causes. With those fertile hills, with this spacious harbor, situated on a principal trade route, Messina would always be a city. Houses and inhabitants there would always be to embody the Messina idea, to fulfill the Messina purpose. [Illustration: HON. W. BAYARD CUTTING, JR. U. S. VICE-CONSUL AT MILAN. SPECIAL REPRESENTATIVE OF THE AMERICAN RED CROSS.] The port was filled with ships, flying the flags of many nations. Boatmen in rowboats surrounded the _Nord Amerika_ and offered to take us ashore. There was nothing catastrophic or even dramatic in their appearance and manner. I was almost disappointed to see them so well dressed, and pleased, on the other hand, to observe that they did not attempt to bargain. From the boatmen, as a matter of fact, when I talked to them, I first derived that strong impression of the oriental affinity of the Sicilians which deepened with every day of my stay in Messina. Their mood was one of submission, unsurprised and unassertive, to the hard hand of fate. They did not rebel nor complain, and on the other hand they would not strive. Life had ceased to have any value; why trouble about its prolongation? It was folly to think of building a comfortable house, when there was no one left to occupy it; or to earn money which could bring no sweetness. So most of them sat idly in the streets, or under the roof of the market, and took what food was put before them; or stood watching the soldiers dig in their own homes, where their families were buried, without raising a hand to help. The few who worked, like our boatmen, did not care what pay they received. A piece of bread they were glad to get; but when it was a matter of money, one lira or five was all the same.