The Greek Manuscripts in the Old Seraglio at Constantinople

way back through the Black Sea, and finished within the week on the train across Europe.

During the Easter vacation of 1909, I visited friends living in Bucharest. I arrived at the beginning of Holy Week and found that time sufficient to see most of the city's sights. I spent much time examining the wonderful gold hoard of Petrossa, the exuviae original: "exuviae" (Latin for "remains" or "spoils") of some Gothic king, featuring runic inscriptions. I attended the midnight service on Easter Eve at the Metropolitan Church, where I stood for more hours than I care to count in evening dress and white kid gloves, holding a yellowish candle. I will not soon forget the constant refrain of the splendid choir, "Christos a inviat" original: "Christos a inviat" (Romanian for "Christ is risen"), in which Latin and Slavonic elements meet—as they do in all that is best in Romania—with such wonderful and novel effect.

Leaving my heavy luggage behind, I packed a bag on Sunday afternoon and took the train for Constanza. It was pitch dark when I arrived. Although I had brought along and read on the journey the Epistolae ex Ponto and the Tristia of my favorite poet Ovid, who was exiled to Tomis, modern-day Constanza., I could not make out any of the features of the place. I can only say, however, that unless the world's climate has changed notably since the beginning of the Christian era, some of Ovid's descriptions must be taken with caution. It is inconceivable that it was ever cold enough for wine to be sold by the pound (though it is true that in Cambridge we buy butter by the yard), and his stories of the perpetual and extreme cold must be strangely exaggerated; after all, Constanza is on the same latitude as Bordeaux. After a calm and comfortable night crossing the Black Sea, I arrived in Constantinople around midday on Monday, April 13th. I did not want to go to the largest hotel, the Pera Palace, mainly because I wished to eat out, so I stayed at a comfortable little place kept by Greeks, called the Continental, and began to think about my manuscripts. Before leaving England, I had obtained an official letter that enabled me to get an Iradé An imperial decree or mandate from the Sultan. from the