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TREAD snssieo (m? JL GROUP OPTfimas ’■ AT J&roJZT)! T was reported recently that the am bassadors of the powers had decided that Mount Athos was to be regard ed as an independent ecclesiastical republic. Mount Athos. near the gulf of Saloniki, is a locality little known, but it is one of the most in teresting in the world. On the end of a peninsula jutting into the -• Aegean sea. the mountain shoots up more than 6,000 feet, and its peak of white limestone is a landmark for many miles out to sea. The old Greek legend was that the giant Athos hurled this mountain at the gods upon ’Olympus, but that it dropped back and fell at the edge of the sea. The entire peninsula, of which Mount Athos forms the southernmost point, is about forty miles long and from four to seven miles in w'idth, cut by numerous ravines and by long arms of the sea. The narrow isthmus which connects the mountain with the main peninsula was cut by a canal built by Xerxes when he came to invade Greece, and traces of the canal are still visible, though it has long since become dry land. The slopes of Mount Athos have for many cen turies been the home of monks and hermits of the Greek church. Most of the monasteries which cling to the steep slopes of the mountain were founded by Byzantine emperors; one of the oldest, the monastery of St. Laura, has been in existence since 968. There are still several thousand monks living upon the mountain, sup porting themselves by tilling hillside farms and living very much as their predecessors did a thousand years ago. In 1,600 years no woman has been allowed to set foot on Athos. Few travelers ever come to Athos; It lies out of the beaten track of travel, and the monks would not welcome intruders. Since the fall of the Byzantine empire and Constantinople, in 1453, Athos has been nomi nally under Turkish rule. The Turks, however, have been liberal in their treatment of the Greek Catholic monks, and have permitted them prac tically to govern themselves. A council com posed of representatives of the several monas teries has maintained law and order in the col ony. The comparatively lew tingnsn ana European travelers who have ever been to Athos unite in enthusiastic praise of the natural beauties of the f place. The steep sides of the mountains are heav *lly wooded with huge oak and chestnut trees, while here and there pine and cypress give a touch of deeper color. The roads windr in and out along the mountain side, frequently affording glimpses of the deep blue sea which frets at Athos’ feet. Through the Middle Ages the Athos monas teries were the treasure houses in which much of the learning and culture of the Greeks was preserved to the world. The monks must have spent a world of time patiently copying the works of the old masters, and the' libraries of ' Athos, even today, contain much that is fascinat ing to the antiquarian and the bookiover. But the monks themselves have fallen into sad igno rance; the libraries of the monasteries are little used and some of them have been permitted to go completely to rack. At Mount Athos. according to legend, the Vir gin Mary and St. Thomas were wrecked and then miraculously saved; and since that day of grace no female foot has been allowed to tread the peninsula of Athos; Indeed, since the' eleventh century no female animals whatever have been permitted there. It is said that the only excep tion ever made to this rule in the last live hun dred years was in favor of Lady Stratford de Redcliffe, and it is kept so strictly that not only must the whole population be masculine, but hens even- may not live on the rock, hence all the eggs, of. which a great number are consumed, tlon of the Holy Moun Garden of the Moth and seven thousand, iisand monks and three others. Most of the are also many Rus and some Bulgarians, The Turks respected xgNOPHozr the privileges of the monks, who submitted after the capture of Salonica and agreed to pay tribute. The republic has, up to this time, been directed by a council elected by the monasteries. The common seal of this council, which Is divided into quarters for that purpose, is in the cus tody of the four senior members. Mount Athos, the second most holy place in eastern Christen dom, is at the extremity of the peninsula of Athos, the easternmost peninsula of Chalcidice In Macedonia, which projects into the Aegean sea and is connected with the mainland by a nar row isthmus, which was pierced by a canal dur ing the Invasion of Xerxes. The monasteries are scattered over the entire peninsula. A most interesting account of a visit to Mount Athos is contained in a book writteri in 1837 by an Englishman, Robert Curzon, who went book hunting to the mountain. Speaking of a visit to one monkish library, he wrote: "The library I found to be In a dark closet near the entrance of the church. It had been locked up for many years, but the agoumenos (head of the monastery) made no difficulty in breaking the old-fashioned padlock by which the door was fastened. I found upon the ground and upon some of the broken-down shelves about 400 to 500 volumes, chiefly printed books, but among them now and then I stumbled upon a manu script. Of these there were about thirty on vel lum and fifty or sixty on paper. I picked up a single loose leaf of very ancient uncial Greek characters, part of the Gospel of St. Matthew. I made bold to ask for this single leaf as a thing of small value. “‘Certainly.’ said the agoumenos, 'what do you want it for?’ My servant suggested that perhaps It might be useful to cover some jam pots or vases of preserves which I had at home. "‘Oh!’ said the agoumer.os. ‘take some more,' and without more ado he seized upon an unfortu nate thick quarto manuscript of the Acts and Epistles and, drawing out a knife, cut an inch thickness of leaves at the end before I could stop him. It proved to be the Apocalypse, which con cluded the volume, but which is rarely found in early Greek manuscripts of the Acts. It was of the eleventh century. I asked him if he would sell me any of the other hooks, and he said cer tainly; they were of no use to him.” One monk whom Curzon talked with in the course of his journey round the mountain could never remember having seen a woman. He asked the Englishman whether they all looked like the pictures of the Virgin Mary. Curzon had an amusing experience with the agoumenos of another monastery. He tells It thus: . “The agoumenos declared his willingness to show me everything the monastery contained. “ 'But first,’ said he, ‘I wish to present you with something excellent for your breakfast.’ "Bo I expressed my thanks for the kind hos pitality of my Lord Abbot, and he, sitting down opposite me on the divan, proceeded to prepare his dish. “ ‘This,’ said he, producing a shallow basin half full of a white paste, ‘is the principal and most savory part of this famous dish; It Is com posed of cloves of garlic, pounded down with a certain quantity of sugar. With It I will now mix the oil In just proportions, some shreds of fine cheese and sundry other nice little condiments, and now It is completed.’ M<Now,’ said the agoumenos, crumbling some bread into It with his lar^e and somewhat dirty hands, ‘this Is a dish for an emperor. Eat, my friend, my much respected guest; do not be shy.’ <£mVP£275A "My servant saved me at last; he said that English gentlemen never ate such rich dishes for breakfast, from religious feel ings he believed, but requested that it might be put by and was sure I should like it very much later in the day.” Mount Athos has seen few changes in the last 100 years. Except for an earthquake, which did some damage to the monasteries in 1905, the coun try is much as it was when Curzon visited it in the early years of Queen Victoria’s reign. But the proposed republic which is to be founded there upon the downfall of Turkey may bring about a great awakening in the "sacred mountain.” BEAUTIES OF THE SOUTH The world Is just awakening to the fact that South American women are beautiful and fasci nating and that the palm for charm and loveli ness is fast being wrested from their Xorth American sisters. Perhaps the most beautiful ot all these new beauties come from Argentina, the land of surprises and wonders, and they seem to have found what Ponce de Leon sought further north—the fountain of youth. The Argentine women dress better, look bet ter and have finer manners than any other wom en in the world. They are enchanting creatures, and even now Europe is learning of their great charm and beauty. They are fond of home life and make ideal mothers, although they are not domestic to a sordid degree. They are as fond of society as the women of the United States, only they are absolutely without the faintest trace of snobbishness, which is probably due to their breeding. They are wonderfully well in formed and well bred women, and strangely enough their social obligations are never such as to interfere with their home life. They are a pleasure-loving people, fond of mu sic, drama and entertainment. The latest styles are brought over from Paris, which is responsi ble for the introduction of the first artists of Europe, who are frequently heard in Buenos Ayres before they come to the United States. The people of Argentina make less of their three weeks’ sail to France than we do of our one week's sail. They are very fond of Paris, and adopt more customs and manners from the French than from Americans or English. The South American woman is becoming a great factor abroad. She has attracted the at tention of shopkeepers, for she is as rich as the North American and even more lavish with her money and grace, for she has no duty to pay on her purchases and spends her millions with an open hand. She loves rich and beautiful things, and wears her clothes well with a great deal of dash and splendor, so that the great modistes and milliners have been turned away from the North American beauty and her scrimping pur chases because of her duties and pouring all their amiability upon the belles from Argentina and Brazil, and even Chile. For oh, they are rich! And they are growing richer with their mines and vast herds of cattle and sheep and their rubber and coffee plantations, their new railroads and real estate deals, and all sorts of other enterprises that make for sudden and vast wealth In new countries. The rich South American woman makes Paris her playground. One rarely finds her In London. She does not like England cr the English, but Paris and the French people just suit her, as she, i like them, is of the Latin race, with all th6 warmth and gayety of such people. The Simple Life. s “Are you able to be bappy since you lost your i money?" { “Oh, yes. I And simple food agrees with me jbetter, and you have no Idea how many worthy people go In for walking as a fad.” Best Phyeiclan. Guest—Yes, my wife has been 111, but she Is out. tgaln now. Hostess—What doctor did you have? i 1 Guest—No doctor at all. I bought her a 'new w < am CAME FROM FARM Utility Girl Was Also From Coun try, and Became Wife of Good Customer. . ( By SUSANNE GLENN. Lacy Lane was a sort of utility girl at Madam Lorimer’s establishment. Most of her time was spent in the back room ripping trimmings from hats that needed altering, or chang ing the length of garments. Lucy did not often get a chance to wait on customers. Her face was too thin and colorless to be pretty, and she wore unlovely, serviceable dresses; Madam liked to have every thing in her establishment exquisitely sweet and attractive. But Lucy did not complain. She was only too thankful for the situa tion as It stood, and wondered why Madame kept her at all. She was too modest to realize the value of her painstaking service. She was thankful, to, for her mis erable little hall-bedroom, because she had always been able to keep her room to herself. But even with thiB fund of "thank fulness” at her command, Lucy would have had a hard time if it had not been for her dreams! When the back room or the hall bedroom became insufferably hot and breathless, she dreamed about the green grass, the waving trees, the re freshing breezes of her beloved coun try where she had spent early years of her life. When the rumble of drays and the crash of cars made her head throb, she dreamed of the drowsy afternoons filled with the droning of bees and crickets, and the croaking of frogs at twilight. When her fingers were blue with cold, she dreamed of the crackling of fragrant wood fires and the warmth of yellow lamplight. Then, Quite uuexpectedly one day, a new impetus was added to them. She was standing near the front door wait ing for a dress that needed altering, when a man entered and looked about uncertainly. The face above his neat, white col lar was ruddy from sun and wind, with a white band across the fore head where his hat gave protection. Everything about him, from his fine, steady eyes to his easy, plain suit of gray wool spoke to Lucy of the coun try, and when their eyes met, she smiled unconsciously, as upon a friend. “Can you wait on me?" inquired the man, stepping forward. “One of the other girls will know more about things," suggested Lucy, modestly. “But I prefer you,” he smiled. “You see, I'm not just sure what I do want, and 1 know you will not laugh at me.- It may seem ridiculous, but do you know it is very disconcerting to be laughed at under such cir cumstances?" “I promise you not to laugh," said Lucy. “Now tell me what you wish'.’ “All sorts of things for a baby a year old. Yes, everything, he seems to be about out of everything. Yes. he lives in the country, and needs Just everyday things, you know. And not too many white things—his moth er is pretty busy!” Lucy smiled, and made suggestions. The man bought lavishly. “There, I think that will do,” he agreed at last. "I never would have thought about his outgrowing them. Now, a couple of suits for dress-up, and I guess it will do. Never had Lucy made up a box with greater care. She almost felt like crawling under the cover herself for the sake of getting back to the country. That evening she was happy think ing about the baby with his store of new things. The autumn wind that rattled the loose frame of her win dow so dismally would make music in the chimney before which the mother would be trying on the little gar ments. To Lucy’s delight, the man came again to Madame Lorimer's. She was in the back room bent almost double over a bit of dark sewing in the dim autumn afternoon, but he asked for her, and Madame called her, well pleased. “It is the little girl this time,” he said. “She is four years old and rath er small for her age. I wanted to bring her along, but her mother thought it was too cold. I came to you again, because you did so well by me before—the, little fellow has looked as fine as a king all winter!" Lucy flushed wltu pleasure and ex citement while she picked out sensi ble little rompers and gingham frocks and stout stockings, followed by the dainty white frocks and frilly petti coats dear to every child's heart. “You had better tell me your name,” suggested the man, as he prepared to leave. “I’m liable to have to come again, and I’d like to know whom to ask for. My name 1b Richard Falk ner.” “I used to know of Falkners when I lived In the country,” said Lucy, giv ing her name. ‘1 suspect, then,” said Falkner, “you must belong to the Wayland Comer Lanes?" And they proceeded to get very well acquainted Indeed. Occasionally through the winter Falkner came for something for the two children. Occasionally an old neighbor of Lucy’s found the way In, following his directions. None of this escaped the eagle eye of Madame Lorimer. Could It be there was the making of a saleslady In her plain, little utility girl? With the New Year, Lucy’s pay en r velope bad an increase sufficient t_ warrant a prettier gown, and ahe spent less time in the back room. Yet Lucy was strangely unhappy. Her dreams of the country brought ah unaccountable ache to her heart ‘ felt a dread of seeing Falkner, presence had once seemed the ' link between her and her old, happy life. Lucy felt tired, too. Perhaps ft was the added responsibility and ex citement of the front room. Month by month her improved ap pearance spoke of the increase In her wages. But with all her prosperity, the girl’s face held the same kind look that made people trust her. Lucy stood near the front door the night before Easter, watching thl weary girls returning from their has1’ suppers. The rush for the past w had been almost intolerable. She did not notice Palkner’s trance, until he spoke, close beside her. "Good evening. Why, you are so fine, Miss Lane, 1 hardly knew you!” Lucy tried to smile as she inquired what he wished. “Nothing for the children this time. I have decided that their mother ought to have her chance this trip. Don’t ail the ladies lily* new1 bonnets and things at Easter time, Miss Lucy?” Lucy’s courage faltered for an In stant. Then she sensibly remembered that she was first of all taleslady for Madame Lorimer! “I should say that anything you can wear would just about fit her. And you’ll just have to go ahead by your self; I am more at sea than I 'was with the children’s fixings." The girl mechanically made a selec tion of serviceable garments that she though suited a busy, country worn an. "Now the 'bonnet,' " she said, smil ing. “Try them on," commanded Falltner admiringly. “But pick out something sober—she isn't a very lively wom an any more.’’ “But she must be a very happy one.” exclaimed Lucy, imperiously. “Why do you think that?” “How could she help being with two dear little children, and a good home, and—so kind a husband." Her voice trailed off, miserably. “But that is just exactly what she doesn’t have. He is worse than a fail ure as a husband, if he is my own brother. And her home is about as poor as you can imagine. But she sticks by him for some unaccountable reason. I try to do what I can for her. Why, Lucy, did you think—" He paused and looked into her flush ed, embarrassed face. “And tell me, dear, did you care?’’ He crushed her hand., in his own, to the immediate peril of the ‘sober’ lit tle hat she was holding. “I—I—’’ "Listen,” he said, in a matter-of-fact voice, "this isn't much of a time or place to tell you what 1 v.ish to—but I’m going to risk it. “Lucy, I came especially to ask you to come home with me. I've dreamed all winter what life would be like with you. Will you marry me, tomorrow?" She looked deep into “And now," he said with a happy laugh, “let’s pick out your Easter bonnet—dear!” (Copyright, 1913, by the McClure News paper Syndicate.) Knew He Was Safe. It was in the office of a frontier ho tel wherein a score of fully armed miners and cowboys were sitting about waiting for bedtime. A west erner anti' a newcomer from "back East” entered Presently the latter said something about the “gentle men” present. “Gentlemen!” said the westerner in a loud tone of voice, “with the exception of two or three men present there isn't a gentleman in the room!” The newcomer felt sure something would happen, but when none of the crowd resented the remark he cautiously asked the westerner how he had dared to make such a statement. "Oh, I know evettjr; man present would deem himself onefr of the two or three gentlemen to whom I had referred." '>•. Don Cipriano. Castilian. Cipriano-Castro before be v.-on by force of arms and ambition to the dic tatorship of Venezuela was a cattle herder in the mountain region of Los Andes. Now that he is an ex-dictator it is his fancy to wear the airs of a Castilian and a grandee of Spain. Es pecially hi deals In high-flown com pliment when the ladles are in ques tion. Recently. In New York he m^t In the house of a friend a girl whose six feet I of fair young womanhood offered a striking contrast to the figure of the little great man—all of five foot four | from heel to crown. Don Cipriano was presented and | bent low over the tall girl’s hand. “Senorita," he said, “it is the goda| that give height.” Not for Him. “Hello there, Mr. Broadway!” halls Woodlelgh as he spied his friend i Ing out of the theater. ‘‘I've looking for you. I want you to con up to the. Adlrondacks with me summer. You know the scenery simply great!” “That may be,” wearily respon Mr. Broadway, “but what good Is scenery without the chorust” During the Noon Haur. Pat (lunching beaide the . Here comes Father Ryan. Put hat on. „ . ; ' Mike—rAn’ • phwy should If Pat—do ye fen take it eC rlverlnce, ye foot \ '•••/.