In an afternoon they sighted the great stones Oxia and Plati; the first,
arid and bare as a gray egg, and conical like an irregular pyramid; the
other, a plane on top, with verdure and scattering trees. A glance at
the map shows them the most westerly group of the Isles of the Princes.

Now Nature is sometimes stupid, sometimes whimsical, doing unaccountable
things. One gazing at the other isles of the group from a softly rocking
caique out a little way on the sea divines instantly that she meant them
for summer retreats, but these two, Oxia and Plati, off by themselves,
bleak in winter, apparently always ready for spontaneous combustion in
the heated months, for what were they designed? No matter--uses were
found for them--fitting uses. Eremites in search of the hardest,
grimmest places, selected Oxia, and pecking holes and caves in its
sides, shared the abodes thus laboriously won with cormorants, the most
gluttonous of birds. In time a rude convent was built near the summit.
On the other hand, Plati was converted into a Gehenna for criminals, and
in the vats and dungeons with which it was provided, lives were spent
weeping for liberty. On this isle, tears and curses; on that, tears and
prayers.

At sundown the galley was plying its oars between Oxia and the European
shore about where St. Stephano is now situated. The dome of Sta. Sophia
was in sight; behind it, in a line to the northwest, arose the tower of
Galata. "Home by lamplighting--Blessed be the Virgin!" the mariners said
to each other piously. But no! The master passenger sent for the captain.

"I do not care to get into harbor before morning. The night is delicious,
and I will try it in the small boat. I was once a rower, and yet have a
fancy for the oars. Do thou lay off and on hereabouts. Put two lamps at