Peace broke out when I was at Gallipoli. I will not attempt to describe the Anglo-Italian jollifications, as they were probably tame to the scenes eleswhere, except in one particular, and that was on the next day in the cathedral. A solemn Te Deum was sung, and the old Bishop gave an address from his throne. There was nothing remarkable about this, but what was amazingly picturesque and im­pressive was the demeanour of the people. They were grouped in masses in the nave, without chairs for the most part, old peasants and children, rich and poor, quite un­conscious of any sort of formality. Before the blazing altar the vested priests and acolytes in solemn array contrasted with these groups, sitting about the steps of the chancel, climbing up on anything to get a better view, and singing lustily. In bright and multitudinous colours they filled the nave like clusters of fruit and flowers heaped on the ground for a harvest thanksgiving. Two small and barefooted urchins had climbed inside the chancel, and were sitting on the steps of the Bishop's throne, and nobody took the slightest notice or thought it irreverent. Imagine the feelings of a verger in an English cathedral under similar conditions. Picture the horror of the Dean and Chapter! << less