It was
a very peaceful existence, and I shall often look back with pleasure to
our hermitage by the walls of the old monastery, which afforded a moral
haven from all the storms and troubles that embitter life. On Sundays we
sent a messenger for the post to the military camp at Troodos, about
five and a half miles distant, and the arrival of letters and newspapers
restored us for a couple of days to the outer world: after which we
relapsed once more into the local quiescent state of complete rest. It
must not be supposed that we were idle; there were always occupations
which by degrees I hope improved the place, and to a certain degree the
people. Occasionally I asked the old monks to sit and smoke their
cigarettes in our "rachkooba," when they sipped their hot coffee, and
explained difficult theological questions to my intense edification; of
course I always listened, but never argued. My particular friend old
Neophitos treated me to long stories which he imagined must be new and
interesting, especially the history of Joseph and his brethren, which he
several times recounted from beginning to end with tears of sympathy in
his eyes at Joseph's love for the youngest brother Benjamin. The Garden
of Eden, the Deluge, including the account of Noah's Ark, and several
equally modern and entertaining stories, I always listened to with
commendable attention.
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