The stumbling of my horse roused me from the foregoing reflections, on the history of the famous mountain beneath the shadow of which we now rode. Our path lay over steep and rugged rocks, and after a long course of scrambling, my horse at last refused to stir from the spot on which he stood. We dismounted in hopes of discovering his cause of alarm, and found ourselves on the very brink of a yawning precipice. By a vigorous effort we again found our path, and after some hard climbing, descended into a valley through which ran a small stream.

In the distance I observed lights, and felt convinced they must proceed from the monastery we were in search of. As we approached they turned out to be bonfires, lit to celebrate the Easter fÊte, and that the supposed cloister was only a small village. We plunged our horses into the midst of the rushing stream in order to gain the opposite bank, but found it far too high. We now rode up and down the bed of the stream shouting for assistance till we were hoarse, but all was useless. Almost in hopeless despair, Hussein made one more vigorous effort to rouse the indolent inhabitants, and shouted at the top of his voice for some one to come with torches and show us our way.

No one answered, and we sought in vain for some means of reaching the bank. At last, as a final effort, Hussein gathered himself together and once more exerted his powerful voice. This time the shout was a menace. In the name of the pacha, he commanded the villagers to appear and conduct a noble stranger to the cloister of Troaditissa, under the penalty of having their houses pulled about their ears should they refuse to comply. This had the desired effect; two men immediately appeared bearing torches and led us on our way. From them we learnt that a foreign gentleman who spoke good Greek, had called at the village about two hours previously with his servant, and had requested to have a guide to the cloister; this could have been no other than my courageous dragoman, and I pictured to myself his anguish when he found himself lost and belated.

When our guides heard I had ascended to the summit of Olympus they assured me I might consider myself lucky to have escaped any attack from the demons and kobolds who haunted the spot. Had I not heard, they inquired, that the temple of Aphroditissa had been removed lower down because of the machinations of these evil ones?

The village of Fini, which we now left, lay about 1000 feet below the monastery, and was separated therefrom by a steep and rocky road. My whole frame was exhausted, and had I had any idea of the distance we must still traverse before reaching our destination, I should certainly have insisted on remaining for the night in any one of the village huts, however squalid it might be. As it was, I was in the hands of my energetic zaptieh, who hurried on our guides with all possible speed. For myself I was quite past everything, except clinging on to my horse, to keep myself from falling, letting him stumble on by himself, guided only by his instinct through the pitchy darkness of the night. I thanked Heaven loudly when about eleven o’clock we reached the gate of the cloister. An Easter bonfire was also burning here, formed of two huge trees, which as they slowly burnt were pushed further into the flames in order that the fire might not die out before sunrise.

I was at once conducted to my apartments, which, though the best in the house, bore a most disgusting resemblance to a stable; and had scarcely set my foot upon the floor, when my dragoman’s head appeared out of his bedclothes, and he commenced a woeful tale of sufferings and alarms. He was starving with hunger, and the monks had only given him a piece of wretched bread that he could scarcely put his teeth into! For my supper, the worthy brethren brought me an earthen pot of the dirtiest, containing some cold turnips and a small piece of salt beef. Hungry as I was I could not have touched them. Luckily for us the superior of the cloisters appeared and ordered some wine and eggs to be brought. The wine, which was excellent, revived us, and loosened the tongues of the two monks who bore us company, and we chatted gaily far into the night. This capital wine (Mavro) is of a very deep red colour, and is made in the neighbouring village of Fini. Its effect upon my exhausted frame was marvellous. I have often found during my journey in Cyprus that a glass of Commanderia was the finest remedy for over fatigue, and I quite understood the popular idea of its being by far the best medicine in many cases of illness.

Early next morning I was roused by the bells, which were hung almost directly over my head. Mass was being celebrated in the little church; this was far too small for its village congregation, and the men were standing outside with lights in their hands, whilst the women kept farther in the background. When the celebration was over, the women and girls seated themselves upon the trunks of some trees, and began eating the food they had brought with them, whilst the men mounted to a rough balcony in front of the cloister, and sat down upon some benches. The two monks now appeared with baskets and earthen vessels, and after the men had kissed their hands, presented each with a linen cloth to spread over his knees, and then gave a plentiful supply of bread, cheese, and wine. This repast was followed by a cup of coffee.

Amongst the women I noticed many with truly classic features, but in most cases they had heavy figures. Two girls, however, were perfect types of statuesque beauty, and would have made a sculptor’s heart leap with joy.

Whilst I was enjoying this scene a third old monk appeared who was suffering terribly from a wound in his leg, which had not been properly attended. I showed the poor old soul how to make some lint, and lay it on the sore, thickly overspread with tallow from the fat of a goat. This act of charity performed, I followed the good brothers into the chapel. Like most cloister churches in Cyprus, it appeared to date from very ancient times, and was probably built when Christianity first reached the island. Near this little edifice stood two rough buildings, containing a few rude chambers which, with the chapel, formed the whole of the monastery. Should anyone wish to pass a week in this spot he must accustom himself to the pangs of hunger, as the worthy monks practise the abstinence on fast days, which they require of their flock.

This cloister can boast one most curious and valuable relic, namely, a picture of the Madonna worked in silver and gold, with the heads of mother and child painted on ivory. This curiosity is five and a half feet long, by three and a half feet wide. When I raised the veil that (as is usual in the island) hung over the face of the Mother of God, I observed two large silver plates, bearing the device of the Russian double eagle, and the date 1799, from which it would appear that this fine work had been the gift of imperial piety. This was no doubt an act of wisdom, as the whole surrounding country still seems pervaded by a host of superstitions dating from heathen times. This monastery is the constant resort of pilgrims on account of the healing powers with which this picture is supposed to be endowed, and the poor brotherhood are often hard pressed to find food for themselves and their numerous visitors.

When we were leaving, the old monk again appeared; his leg was much better, and he fell upon my neck and embraced and thanked me with much gratitude. Our road lay through the scene of our last night’s troubles, and I trembled as I saw the pitfalls we had passed in the pitchy darkness, and yet escaped with our lives.

I was now desirous of riding through the country to the monastery of Chrysorogiatissa, which I understood to be about seven or eight leagues distant; we found, however, that it took us an entire day to reach the spot.

Shortly after leaving the village of Fini we entered a magnificent valley, enclosed by reddish brown mountains, with trees scattered here and there upon the declivities. These reminded me of the trees upon the open prairies of America, which are only met with at about every 200 or 300 feet. On the prairies, however, the trees when they do appear, form pleasing objects in the landscape, whilst the stunted growth upon the Cyprian mountains only gives an impression of barrenness and decay. We saw a few firs at an elevation of 4000 feet, and in some of the upper peaks a few pines are still to be met with. A very different scene presented itself in the valley beneath us. From every stone and rock hung long grass and clumps of flowers, and in some places, these were entirely covered with brilliant mosses and a variety of creeping plants. Bushes of sage, marjoram, cistus, arbutus, laurel, and myrtle covered the ground, whilst oaks, juniper, and mastic trees spread their roots in all directions near the rippling waters of the stream that irrigated this beautiful valley. The soft foliage of the tamarisk contrasted finely with the dark branches of the pines and the silver-grey of the wild olive.

On the trees and bushes were perched a host of feathered songsters, and every cleft and fissure in the low-lying rocks streamed and rippled with sparkling water. Every here and there we came upon a spot where the moist swampy earth was covered with peonies, tulips, and a variety of bulbous plants, whilst every decaying tree stump showed a luxuriant crop of orchids and rare creepers. The whole air was so charged with heavy perfume from these multitudinous flowers, that I breathed more freely when we reached a slight eminence and were met by a refreshing breeze, which bore with it the delicious odour of some neighbouring fig-trees.

In passing through one of these valleys we found the sun intolerable. It actually seemed as if the heat were rising from the ground and would scorch our legs. I have, however, never felt in Cyprus, except on this occasion, that overpowering sultriness which is so often experienced in Sicily; still, it of course must be thoroughly understood that I travelled through the island in the freshness of early spring.

Let no one imagine that our path through these picturesque valleys was without its difficulties and annoyances. Over and over again we lost our way, and at last we were compelled to plunge into the bed of the stream and let our horses swim and struggle as best they could over the loose stones that beset them at every step. When we again landed our way lay along the edge of a steep declivity and over walls of rock, without a trace of roadway or anything to indicate the course we ought to take. A tedious ride at length usually brought us to a deep gully, beyond which lay another luxuriant and laughing valley. In this manner we journeyed all day, following the course of the stream and the goat paths, whenever it was possible, and stumbling on as best we might when these were not available.

At noon we stopped to rest upon a hill above the murmuring waters of the mountain stream, and for the first time that day heard the distant sound of sheep-bells. Gradually the tinkling became more distinct, and in a short time two shepherds with guns on their shoulders appeared upon the scene. They were fine fellows, and gave me many interesting particulars of their life on the mountains, whilst gratefully sharing the meal we were enjoying. They belonged to a nomad race, wandering during the greatest part of the year about these mountains with their flocks, and sleeping in little huts roughly made of branches for the occasion. On my asking if many shepherds lived this life they laughed, and assured me that not only men and boys, but women and girls passed whole months in this manner among the mountains, the women carrying a light spindle about with them, and plying their wool spinning, a work they much prefer to labouring with the hoe and sickle in the fields. Exactly such a life as this I have often witnessed in the Greek islands of Samothrace and Thasos, and exactly such features, build, and dress as these men exhibited. Like their Grecian brothers our Cyprian friends, imitated the shriek of the vultures and the calls of a great many birds, in the most perfect manner. I inquired of these shepherds, if they could give me any particulars concerning the mufflons, a species of wild goat, but could only learn that it was but very rarely met with. From what I could gather, I imagine that it is nearly extinct.