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Show !VKere Ea i qqxs WosvUm ! ? 5 i v. IV t 1 i ! f r ' . j : i . - - - View of Saiomki Harbor. SALONIKI is one of those extraordinary extraor-dinary spots where East meets West, where man's latest inventions inven-tions are seen side by side with the simple implements of centuries ago, a land of many people and quaint customs. Wrar has brought Saloniki into the limelight, and in years to come many of those who soldiered there will feel that they have added a strange experience to their lives. It has always al-ways been the fashion to criticize military mil-itary administration ; still, however slow war office machinery inaj be, it usually gets you somewhere in the end. It may not, of course, be the place you particularly wanted ; but you get there Just the same and make the best of it, writes a British officer in the Christian Science Monitor. I never thought of going to Saloniki, but one fine morning orders came for my dispatch, and in due course to the Orient I came. Of the country I was bound for I knew iittle or nothing. It was a part of the Levant, most of the European powers had a post office there, and I had heard something of the wily Levantine Le-vantine and his ways, that was all. I was quickly to absorb a good . deal' more information, for the moment you land iu Saloniki it thrusts itself upon you with a joyous shout and many smells. Pearl of the Orient. It was midday when we entered the harbor, perhaps one of the finest in the world, and, taking Into account its natural possibilities, little wonder that Saloniki is the Pearl of the Orient. The first impression is good, nothing could be finer or more picturesque than the general appearance of the town. Countless minarets rise above the houses and an occasional group of tall, stately poplars give the necessary neces-sary tone of green to relieve the white mass of buildings. The town slopes up from the sea front, the old citadel in the Turkish quarter behind making a good background and helping. to remind re-mind one that this, until recently, was a part of the Ottoman empire. Behind Be-hind the town again stretch the seemingly seem-ingly endless ranges of hills, tier on tier, devoid of trees and with signs of habitation few and far between. The harbor Itself Is a fine picture and affords an excellent setting to tluf whole panoramic effect. Few types of craft are not represented there, from the modern battleship flying the tricolor tri-color of France, to the quaint, gaudily i painted vessel, rigged with a single triangular tri-angular shaped still, high out of the water at the prow and stern, a relic of the days when the hardy Phoenician mariner made Saloniki his port of call. There are British, American, Italian and Russian traders lying side by side, and a little way out a white hospital ship, which, in more peaceful times, flew the house flag of the Union Castle lino. Picture all this under a turquoise tur-quoise sky, and the result Is not uu-plcaslng. uu-plcaslng. The military landing officer is soon or? board and uftei a few words with the O. C. troops, we commence the disembarkation dis-embarkation ceremony. Yes, the best Impression of Saloniki is to be had from the deck of a transport and for choice the boat should be outward bound. GrouDS Talk on Street. be. This sort of thing would be entirely entire-ly out of place in a western land. Should we attempt it, our fellow men would resent it, and we should become exceedingly unpopular. All 'this may . . seem rather a small matter to dwell . upon; but it is really one of those peculiarities pe-culiarities which make a great impression impres-sion on the new arrival. In course of time we grow accustomed to it, and usually find ourselves respecting the-law the-law of the East. Later on we, too, will indulge in the same promiscuous: habits Of conversation. People of Many Races. As we pass from the landing stage on our road to the base camps it ia borne home to us that the inhabitants are of many and varied races, and if further proof were wanting the clamor of many tongues would at once confirm con-firm it. Bearded, sun-tanned fishermen, fine fellows, who would add luster to any stage production of "SInbad," spruce, well-dressed clerks and merchants mer-chants and hosts of ragged, nondescript nonde-script rascals mingle together on all sides. Turkish women with yashmak and quaint trouserings, all complete, move side by side with Greek ladies,, arrayed In the very latest vogue, and heedless of the passing throng strides a tall Greek priest, umbrella in hand, with his flowing black robes and his ample locks crowned by the quaiiit headdress of his creed not unlike an inverted tall hat. Crowds of soldiers of . course are there, khaki-clad English and Serbs, Frenchmen, prominent in their new blue uniforms, sage-coated Italians and Russian in their tightly-belted blouse tunics. Add to all this motley crowd swarms of partially clad children, whose never ceasing cry is "penny, Johnny," and you have some idea of what a Saloniki crowd is like. Include the noise, smell and indescribable dirt and you have Saloniki complete. Familiar Traffic Officer. The roadway is packed with traffic, too. Slow moving bullock carts hold, up the flying motor lorries and the horse and mule transport of the allies comes and goes in a never-ending stream. Leaving tne English quay, we come to a large open space, the junction junc-tion of four of the principal thoroughfares, thorough-fares, and here the press is worse than ever. This is Ficcadilly circus, for wherever the English soldier goes he dearly loves to christen places after familiar spots in the home country. It may be a communication trench or it may be a road or street, it is all one to-him to-him and a name it has. In the middle of all this is a tall khaki-clad military policeman. With a wave of his arm. he holds up the stream of U'affic to allow al-low our column to pass. There is something very familiar in that majestic majes-tic action, it is done so naturally, there is no shadow of doubt in his expression expres-sion as to the signal being instantly-obeyed. instantly-obeyed. Our soldier policeman is in his element, his present job is not new, it Is child's play for him, this handling of a few lorries and a swarm of noisy Orientals after the traffic in Piccadilly-over Piccadilly-over the sea or it may have been the Marble arch for his name and number will be found in the roll of honor of the London police force. He has dope a bit of soldiering since he left England and now he Is once again the guardian of the public, a power to be reckoned with. We gladly received him as an old friend, a link with home, and Inter we-apprcclate we-apprcclate his full worth when, as a wanderer on pass, we inquire the way to the Rank of Athens or the field cashier. cash-ier. His sphere of usefulness does not end there, for he It Is who knows when and where the "busses" go, for the motor lorry Is your only means of transport to and from the town, fie has a pnragrnph all to himself here and he deserves it, for he is one of the happy recollections of a wanderer In the East. As we land we get a closer and better bet-ter view of the nearest buildings and the strange crowds of people. At Saloniki Salo-niki the quayside belongs to everybody; every-body; just as the boats of all nations come to anchor in her harbor, so do men of every race, caste and station come to rest on the waterside. Along the front are shops of all kinds, one or two of the chief hotels, and the continental conti-nental style of cafe Is present in force. The shops are mostly of the open kind; that is, you are expected to do business through an open window while you stand on the pavement. You will, of course, be In the way of all pedestrians, pe-destrians, especially as there will be sure to be one or two Interested spectators spec-tators of jour deal; but then, to stop the traffic, either on the king's highway high-way or on the sidewalk, Is quite permissible per-missible In Saloniki. Two friends meet In tho street, they stop, exchange salutations, and an animated ani-mated conversation ensues. They take up a great deal of room; but every one respects the unwritten law of the Orient and our two worthies continue their discourse, heedless of time and wince, a3 only your true Oriental can |