The Bridgeport evening farmer. [volume] (Bridgeport, Conn.) 1866-1917, 1916-04-03
LIFE OF SERBIAN
MONARCH ONE OF
EXILE AND HOPE
King Peter a Lonely Visitor
on Deserted Isle Among
Dead Summer Glories.

Aedypsos, Eubea, Greece, April B.
The spot where King Peter of Serbia
is gathering strength to march again
at the head Of his men," as he puts it,
might be one of the Greek church
monasteries on Mt. Athos, for all the
touchtit has with the rest of the world.
Never easy of access, Aedypsos in
winter is completely cut off save by
the intermittent services Of a Greek
government tug which runs from Sly
lis, lon the main land opposite, to Aed-
ypsos on the Island of Eubea.
Occasionally smaller coasting
steamers visiting the tiny ports of the
Gulf of Eubea and bound from <Pireus
or Cha1cis to VoIo, stop at the wharf
in front of King Peters hotel. Now
and then a French or British destroyer
noses the shore long enough to disem-
bark a messenger. or a British mine
seeker anchors for an hour or two
while its commander gets a whiskey
and soda in the deserted summer
hotel.
Nothing could be 1onelier than the
life of the King without country
His suite consists of three of his
countrynen:l Big, genial Colonel To-
dorovitch, his atd-de-camp; black
bearded, silent Captain Jukanovftch
his secretary, and jolly old DIR. Simon
ovitch, the royal physician. In addi-
ton, there are, on behalf of the Greek
government, Lieutenant Ko1ok otronis
and Sergeant Koressi and 20 Greek
policemen. And that is all. The little
collection of Summer villas and sum
mer hotels grouped around the hot
springs of Aedypsos are empty. Their
windows are boarded up. They have
that forlorn air of houses never really
lived in-like Coney Island in midwin-
ter
The routine of each of the Kings
days is in deadly rnonotony. Regu-
larly, as punctual as any clock, he
rises at half past three every morning,
takes his alkaline bath, and returns
to bed until half past four. At five
his day begins-''the habits of a cam
paigner," he says apologetically. st
suppose I am too old to change" He
goes over the newspapers and reports
that are sent to him, answers letters
when there are any to answer, and
reads such communicates of the pro-
gress of the war as reach him by tel
egraph.
st wish people wouldn't write so
1egibly," he complains. Their letters
are so quickly read"
Il When the morning post is over (and
as the post arrives only at rare I'M
certain intervals it is often over be-
fore it\is begun), out come the various
maps of the theatres of the world war.
and the King without a country who
is also a general without an army,
and Colonel Todorovitch and Captain
Jukanovitch pore over the hills and
rivers and plains of France and Bel
gium and Poland and Armenia and
the Trentino, following the armies
step by step.
But the maps of Serbia are in 8
heap at one side. No one unfolds
them. There are no military move
ments to follow in Serbia. Serbia's
battles Are all fought. Finally every
advance and retreat and engagement,
great and small. recounted in the
communicates has been marked out
and discussed. A silence falls on the
three men who sit about the chart
covered table, as if it were the staff
table at army headquarters the night
before a battle. The old King cellars
his throat and slowly rises. Leaning
on his cane, he hobbies to the trunk
on which the maps of his country lie
piled. His trembling, eager fingers
unfold thems and spread them out one
by one. above the others. covering
over, bIotting out the maps of all the
rest of the world. Serbia!
"I-ah-I was just thinking last