The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1917-03-06
LEGATION SHIP
 COSMOPOLITAN AS SWISS INN
Yacht Off Grecian Coast
 Shelters the Diplomatic Agents of Many Nations.

On Board the Abbassieh off Pi-
 raeus, Greece, Mar. 6-The Abbasieh
 is the ship which, since December
 18th, has housed all the Entente Le-
 gations accredited to King Constan- tine, save the Italian mission. A from comfortable dwelling for so many diplomatists ana their families. The various cabins have signs on them indicating that one or the other
 is the British Legation, the French Legation, the Serbian, Belgian, Rus sian or Rumanian Legation. The main saloon at meal times is common din- ing room as international in charac- ter as that of any Swiss hotel in the tourist season. By dint of long, en- forced residence at close quarters, some of the little niceties of life have gone by the board. French, the com mon diplomatic tongue, is here solely the language of the French. Each group sticks together and converses in it's native speech, save at the for
 maI conferences.
 After the common breakfast, the tables are cleared and the reading of the Athenian morning papers is the order of the day a task usually fall ing to MT. Filidor. the Rumanian min ister, the readiest translator from Greek. The task is rather a thankless one, as the Athenian newspapers have little good to, say of the Entente Pow CTS these days of blockade. The com ments of the listeners, however, are generally of similar tenor, albeit from the other side. The news of the day digested, there is the first conference and discussion on the days program. Once the conference adjourned, the legations separate each to occupy a set of tables of it's own for it's work when there is any to do.
 The British and French Legations are the busy ones. The Rumanian Minister, almost entirely cut off from his government of whose seat he is never quite sure, is a forlorn figure, pacing the deck while his colleagues labor. The Russian Minister is some what buster, especially since he acts as his own cook. The Serbian Minis ter disappears, frequently quietly slip ping ashore and making his way to Athens, to return only late in the evening, spending the night aboard as a pure matter of form.
 AL one CdDl0 SlT fTdnC1S EluOL, the British minister in shirt sleeves is tapping the typewriter himself at an- other one of his secretaries is lost among a maze- of papers that with every roll of the ship slip to the floor. Nearby at another table two other British secretaries are playing chess. In a corner, four of the diplomaticc ladies have organized a day-long game of bridge. The Belgian charge watches the bridge, sadly his thoughts far away on the sand dunes that are all that remains of his native land.
 On the opposite side of the cabin, Jean Guillemin, the French minister, holds sway. Nervous and restless, he is constantly up and down, rushing back and forth from his cabin or breaking in on his British colleague who listens to comment or discussion impassive, returning to poking one finger of each hand at the typewriter keys when the storm has passed. Capt. de Roquefeuille, the French naval at tache, hurries in with the latest re- ports from the Athenian cafes, filled with the Iurid color characteristic of the orient. The eager French gather about to drink them in, with many and "Ahs!" and "How dread fuls!"
 Afternoon those who do not sleep go ashore for walks on the island of or climb the barren Aegaleos heights.