The weather having abated, we ran over to Crete, where I found the island laboring with reforms, a constitution, and a Christian governor, in the person of my old friend Photiades Pasha.

We were invited to dine at the Konak, and of the company was Edhem Pasha, a charming, intelligent, and thoroughly civilized Turk, by far the most liberal and progressive of his race I had met, with the single exception of A'ali Pasha.

We played at "Admiration" that evening, a game which puts a series of questions as to the qualities one admires.
In reply to the question "What kind of courage do you admire ?" the pasha, turning to me, replied, "I admire the courage of that gentleman in going to sea in so small a boat in such weather," and he admitted laughingly that his courage was not at that level.
I found in the place of my old friend Dickson, consul for England and colleague of the Cretan days, since dead, Humphrey Sandwith, a noble and faithful representative of the dignity and humanity of his nation, and for many years subsequently my intimate friend, who has disappeared while I write from the lessening list of living friends, but who will ever keep his place in my regards as a noble, just, and humane representative of his race, as of his government.

In the years of the subsequent Cretan difficulties, Sandwith was always the good and wise friend of the islanders.

It is good to remember such a representation of the power and dignity of England in lands where his colleagues have not always honored England or humanity, and I shall always think of Sandwith with greater respect for his nation.
The results of the "Century" expedition were nothing in respect of excavation, and the records of the tracing of the route of the Great Ithacan were written out in the Dolomites in the course of the summer.
We found that excavation was a matter beyond achievement with the limited funds at my disposal, but Photiades was munificent in promises of support if I wished to return for serious undertaking in that direction.