In an account given by General Cesnola of a similar journey to mine, across a portion of the island, he states that travellers in Cyprus will find it much more convenient to purchase, than to hire, animals, and speaks in high terms of the well-broken mules and donkeys he found. These donkeys, of a breed peculiar to Cyprus, are glossy and sleek, with large eyes; they are very intelligent and can travel as fast as a mule.

The same authority tells us the muleteers are as a class excellent and trustworthy, even under the temptation of conveying large sums of money from one town to the other. When a native is about to proceed on a journey he goes to the khan, a kind of inn, and there selects a mule to his liking, and bargains with the owner of it for a lump sum for the entire trip, or at a rate of so much a day. The latter mode is preferable, for should the mule prove unsuitable, the traveller would be at liberty to change it on the road if he found a better. The former method, however, is generally adopted by the natives for the sake of economy. He appoints the hour at which he desires to start, and the muleteer as a rule arrives at the house an hour or two later. A kind of native saddle is placed on the back of the mule, called “stratouri,” across which are hung, in such a manner as not to incommode the traveller, two large canvas bags, which contain his private effects, and provisions for the first day’s journey. Several coloured blankets or quilts, according to the season, are then piled on the stratouri to be used as a bed at night.

The muleteer, who acts also as guide, is mounted upon a small but strong donkey in the same fashion as the traveller, and carries the extra baggage of the latter, besides food for himself, provender for both animals, and often several parcels intrusted for delivery to his care. At first it seemed to me cruel to see such little animals so overloaded, but I soon became convinced that the Cyprian donkey is stronger, and resists the fatigue of a long journey, better than a mule.

When everything is in readiness for departure, the traveller is helped to ascend to the top of his quilts, and two rusty stirrups attached to the extremities of a rope are handed him, into which he introduces his feet. By sitting upon the rope, he is enabled keep to his equilibrium; once safely perched he opens a yellow cotton umbrella, lights his cigarette, receives the blessings of his household, and starts upon his journey.

The Cypriotes are in general a frugal people, and when travelling, can accommodate themselves to almost every exigency. More than once during my excursions in the island I have found on entering a small village, some wealthy merchant of my acquaintance, seated cross-legged on the threshold of a hut, with a straw tray, resembling the lid of a basket, placed before him, on which were a few black olives, a hard piece of brown bread, and some sour milk, apparently enjoying his repast. It is no uncommon thing to find the muleteer seated opposite the merchant, eating from the same dish, and drinking from the same jug, a glass being in the interior of the island considered a useless luxury.

Whilst giving our readers the benefit of the above interesting particulars we cannot refrain from quoting General Cesnola’s own account of his summer residence in the interior of the island. The question of the possibility of enjoying life in our new possession is now so much discussed, that the testimony of a gentleman, who has recently resided in the island for ten years must carry much weight.

“On the occasion of a visit to Nikosia, the capital of the island, I had passed a night in the village of Dali, which is about half way between Nikosia and Larnaka, and had remarked on its outskirts, a grove of lemon and orange trees, amidst which nestled a small white cottage, connected with several outbuildings. This, I decided, might be converted into a pleasant retreat, and soon induced the proprietor to cede it to us for small remuneration, during the hot season. This he did the more readily, as the peasants live almost entirely out of doors from June to September, it rarely ever happening that a drop of dew, and almost never a drop of rain, falls during these months. The Cypriotes place their beds under the trees, making the branches of the latter do duty as clothes press and larder. They will frequently throw a handkerchief on the ground and lay their infants to sleep upon it, satisfied that neither moisture nor creeping thing will harm the child, for Dali is wonderfully free from noxious reptiles.

“This simple abode became our summer resort for several years. It was surrounded by about six acres of ground, laid out in alleys of lemon and orange trees, and the favourite caisha,[9] from the blossoms of which exhaled a delightful perfume. Two noble walnut-trees overshadowed the traditional alakah,[10] and extended their shade to our out-of-door saloon, where we sat the day long, reading, writing, and chatting with the grateful breeze, at all hours coming through the long verdant alleys, hung with luscious fruit. A small rivulet of the purest water found its way from cold sources to the feet of these walnut-trees, the broad leafy branches of which formed the ceiling of our drawing-room, and being blocked by a pile of rough stones, tumbled, cascade fashion, into a basin, scooped out to receive it, which served as our wine cooler and refrigerator. We soon adopted the housekeeping system of the peasants, and hung our plate baskets and table linen among the trees; and spreading out the thick mats of the country with a wooden settle dining-table and some rough chairs, we soon arranged a dining-hall, where our Turkish attendants served us with as much attention as if at a state dinner, though not with quite the same ceremony. A little further on a few Turkish rugs and divans formed the reception room of state for the notables of Dali, consisting of an old cadi, an illiterate Greek priest, and three wealthy Turks of Potamia, who inhabited what was once a royal palace, and the summer residence of the Lusignan queens.”

We cannot refrain from quoting a still stronger testimony borne by this gentleman, to the charms of this beautiful island as a summer residence:

“Having obtained a six months’ leave of absence, we took our last walk in the environs of Larnaka, where the Marina[11] appears to its best advantage. Passing the Salines, and the ruins of Phaneromene on our right, we were soon in the fields, which were yet in all their vernal glory. Pink and white anemones, dark blue irises, intensely scarlet poppies, golden Marguerites, and a thousand lovely blossoms, of which I do not even know the names, embroidered the plains with the most brilliant colours imaginable. We crushed the wild thyme and mignonette beneath our feet at every step, yet they seemed to offer us their incense at parting. A torrid sun would soon leave all this a dreary waste. Mount Santa Croce seemed to follow us throughout our walk, ever changing in aspect, now cool and brown as clouds floated over it, now glowing with crimson in the setting sun. The lighted minarets of Larnaka, and the Marina, shone in the distance, and, as we neared the latter, we heard the voice of the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer. As we entered our own spacious garden, which had been reclaimed from the sea-shore, with its lovely roses—such as bloom only in Cyprus—and its vine-covered walls, a slight shade of regret passed over us as we thought how soon neglect might turn the spot, then the admiration of visitors, once more into an unsightly waste. An extensive terrace overlooked the garden, and as we walked on it in the moonlight, a magical charm seemed to have been thrown on the scene, and on the rippling gleaming waves of the Mediterranean, so that while gazing we almost forgot the dark side of life in Cyprus, and a sense of tenderness stole into our hearts for the land we were leaving on the morrow.”