Towards evening we came in sight of Mount Olympus. Water, as clear as crystal, was trickling down the lower rocks in all directions, and a delicious breeze blowing from Olympus cooled our weary frames and raised our drooping spirits as we lay, surveying the scene around us, upon the banks of a rivulet, completely surrounded by oleander bushes. Thus refreshed, we continued our way along the course of the stream under the shade of numerous trees which became more luxuriant and various as we advanced.

This delightfully wooded valley contrasted well with the bare naked rocks above. All day I had seen the snowy crest of Mount Olympus towering above its dark companions, and had imagined that it could only boast a snowy cap. Now, as it rose before us, clearly distinguishable from the rocks around, I found that the snowy veil extended far down its sides and slopes. All true Alpine features are entirely wanting, and to me there seemed something harsh and unattractive in the bare and unbroken character of its naked rock.

Whilst it was still light we reached Evrychu. This, the prettiest and most populous village in Cyprus, is situated in a lovely valley surrounded by fruitful and luxuriant pastures, whilst above it tower majestic groups of picturesque mountains. Evrychu lies 1700 feet above the level of the sea, and contains seven hundred inhabitants; amongst these, however, not more than a hundred families pay taxes. This luxuriant valley might readily produce enough to support ten times the number of people now dwelling there. When we arrived, evening service was being performed in the church, and it is no exaggeration to say that the whole of the inhabitants were around its walls, from the youngest child to the most infirm of its old men and women. This open-air gathering had a fine and solemn effect. The people themselves appeared to me to differ in many respects from the short, stout inhabitants of the coast and plains, who look as though heat and perspiration had baked the dust and dirt into their skins. The people of Evrychu, on the contrary, are well grown and finely made, and their complexions fresh and blooming. Amongst the women and girls I noticed a great number of pretty faces. There can be no doubt as to the fact that these people are descended from the old Greek settlers, whilst those in the open country and on the sea coast are descended from a mixed race of Italians, Syrians, and Negroes. In the more frequented parts of the island, traces of successive races were rapidly swept away, whilst here in the mountain valley the people have for generations lived comparatively unchanged and undisturbed. My opinions concerning the descent of the people were strengthened by further observations, and all along the mountain range I noticed a strong likeness to the Greeks of several islands in the Archipelago; the type, however, not being quite so pure (no doubt owing to intermarriage), nor faces and figures quite so beautiful and slender. As for manners, well would it be if our awkward English race could imitate the grace with which these villagers performed the most ordinary act. When we arrived amongst them the appearance of such an unexpected party might have been supposed to have created quite a sensation. Nothing of the kind occurred, the men and women were grouped about, and evidently eyed us with much curiosity, but no movement betrayed their feelings or ruffled their respectful politeness. The girls stood at some distance and observed us as closely, but with graceful dignity. Such natural propriety of behaviour is very striking in this population, and seems to leave the impression on the mind, of their having, as we say, “seen better days.” Their peculiar customs are numerous and interesting; no sooner is a guest lodged than a woman or girl appears and offers him an apple, with the most winning grace; this is intended as a hospitable welcome. If you are given any kind of solid food a napkin is placed over your knees. A glass of water is presented to you on the open palm of the hand, and is always accompanied by a good wish, the giver remaining standing until the glass is returned, when another wish is expressed that the water may do you good. When you are about to leave, women and girls appear and throw the leaves of the olive and other fragrant plants into the fire. The parting guest is expected to go through the form of smelling these leaves, in token of his bearing away in his mind a sweet impression of the kindness he has received.

Who could compare our parting act of raising the hat, with the picturesque obeisance of these villagers, as they laid their hands upon their hearts and gracefully inclined their bodies towards us as they wished us farewell.

Whilst I reposed, my indefatigable zaptieh had been exploring the village and inquiring for its principal inhabitant, for the purpose of securing lodgings for me at his house. This man, who proved to be a well-to-do peasant, soon appeared, accompanied by his sons-in-law, and offered to escort me to his home. The domicile consisted of three small, one-storied buildings lying close together and standing in a small court surrounded by stabling and sheds. The principal attractions of this dwelling were its strong walls and watertight roof, recommendations possessed by very few other houses in the village, these latter being generally mere flat-roofed huts, with walls formed of clay and interlaced branches. The accommodation for the cattle is, of course, equally rude and simple; everything about these dwellings is poor except in one respect, namely, their house linen. The excellent order in which this is always kept, speaks highly for the industry, housewifery, and skill of the women.

The landlord’s four daughters offered me a hearty reception, and made it evident by their sparkling eyes and their delighted manner, that they felt all the pleasure and dignity of hospitality. Everything the place could offer was at our disposal, and they seemed as if they could not do enough to make us comfortable. Various members of the family appeared in turn, in order to be introduced to me, and all, even the children, conducted themselves with the most unembarrassed courtesy. The sons-in-law of my host and a young relative, who was the village schoolmaster, sat down to table with the head of the family and myself, whilst the daughters waited upon us. Luckily for me I had chanced upon them just at Easter time, so we were allowed to partake of meat. The table was ornamented with a great variety of coloured Easter eggs, and after dinner the “egg-touching” ceremony began, each person offering the small end of an egg to his neighbour, saying as he did so, “Christ is risen.” This appeared to be a favourite amusement with the children, and many eggs were broken by their little hands. I was delighted with the charming manner in which the youngsters grouped together, and after the repast was over sang us an Easter hymn.

I cannot refrain from giving my readers the very Grecian names of my kind entertainers. My host was called Gavril, one of the sons-in-law was Kleobulas Christophagu Gavrilidis, and the other Socrates. The schoolmaster was Michel Ivanidas, and the four daughters respectively Minerva, Terpsichore, Penelope, and Zoisa; another maiden present was called Evanthia. How can we account for such classic names, if I am not correct in asserting that these people are the direct descendants of the early Greeks?

Next morning I was astir at about four o’clock, and walked out into the fresh and balmy air. A gentle wind was wandering about the mountains, stirring the waving foliage of the trees, and rippling the bright water of the streams as it passed. Thrushes and nightingales poured forth their sweetest melody on all sides, and a delicious perfume was wafted around from innumerable flowers, and the hedges of myrtle by which the fields are surrounded. Only one thing was wanting to the scene—where was the rustling sound of trees on the declivities of the mountains? As I looked up, the first glance told me the soil was in the highest degree fitted for their culture, and yet the eye could only discover a variety of shrubs and mountain plants interspersed with a few blackened stumps.

When I returned to the village I found the whole population again at their devotions. In the Eastern Church the worshippers do not attend to hear sermons and pour out their own prayers and thanksgivings; it would appear as though even the most earnest worshippers considered that their mere presence and genuflections during the masses said and sung by their priest, was all that could be required of them. For more than a thousand years, no change whatever has taken place in the creed and liturgy of the Christian Church in the East, and it may, therefore, be regarded as more closely allied to the Primitive Church than is the Catholic Church of Rome. With the exception of its bishops, Cyprus has no active and learned priesthood, and nothing can be simpler than the life and theology of its country curÉs. Books they have none, and for their livelihood have to depend upon the bounty of their flocks. Under British rule new life will be given to the Christian Church in Cyprus, and to the education and training of her people.

When we left Evrychu, our host and his sons-in-law, as is the custom here, accompanied us to the extremity of the village, when they took their leave.