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sky at once made me wakeful and vigorous. I rose and I looked out. Before me were the tops of dark and glossy orange trees, with their golden fruit-age glittering on them. Then came a gleam of walls, and again more trees beyond them—oranges also, with here and there a cypress—and ending the vista rose a tall feathery palm tree, and close beside it the spike of a slender minaret. The minaret showed me the nature of the sound I had been listening to. It was the voice of the muezzin, still calling from the gallery. Every detail was vividly unfamiliar. A closely latticed window or two peeped in the dis-tance through the leafage, doubtless looking down upon hidden and inaccessible gardens. Near the minaret was a glimpse of a low white dome, and far away was the peak of a faint silvery mountain. After breakfast that morning I was left to my own devices. The garden of the house, with its sense of seclusion and secrecy, was so attractive that I felt no impatience to leave it, and I was pleased at dallying a little longer with my uncertainty as to things outside. I therefore spent the time before luncheon in unpack-ing a photographic apparatus, and erecting a portable developing room in a quiet corner of the cloisters—an occupation which I lightened occasionally, by pausing to watch the ways of the native servants. In especial, my attention was caught by a curious Greek girl, who rushed to and fro on her business like a good-natured wild animal, and eyed me and my appliances w'.th a laugh of undisguised curiosity. 54 IN AN ENCHANTED ISLAND

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