When we left Amathus, our road lay over a barren mountainous tract, entirely destitute of every charm, but as we reached Cape Karubieh, a scene of great beauty opened up from the left to our view. Before us lay a little town, looking as fresh and bright as if but quite recently built, with houses that appeared much more stately and substantial than any I had yet seen in Cyprus. To our surprise these attractive-looking residences were closed and untenanted, and not a human creature was to be seen, except a solitary negro at a small inn where we got a cup of coffee. I afterwards learnt that the inhabitants of Karubieh, which number about one thousand only, return to their homes in August. At this season many ships anchor here to take in large cargoes of fruit for Trieste, Marseilles, Smyrna, Odessa, and St. Petersburg. The fields, from which all this superabundant harvest is produced, cover all the declivities of the sea-shore from Limasol to Mazotos. The once despised carob-tree (Ceratonia siliqua) is now much esteemed, and the fruit, which was formerly only used either as food for cattle, or occasionally eaten during seasons of fasting, has become of great value. Of late years it has been discovered that the fruit is highly valuable for the making of excellent brandy, and the tree is therefore cultivated throughout this district with the utmost assiduity. About April the branches are lopped off; numerous shoots from fruitful trees are grafted on the trunks, and in a very short space of time the tree is covered with succulent pods. I mention this interesting fact, to prove of what this once fertile island is capable, when its products receive the necessary attention. In this instance, as in many others, gold is literally lying on the ground in Cyprus, ready to be picked up by those who have enterprise and energy.

Our road from Cape Karubieh presented nothing of interest. The mountains gradually receded inland, and the eye found nothing to relieve the monotony of the bare expanse of coast, until at length our further progress in a direct line was stopped by a rocky promontory, which projected far into the sea. We were now obliged to turn inland, and soon reached higher ground, from whence we once more obtained a good view of the purple and deep blue mountains, and could see their tints gradually deepen under the shadow of approaching night. It was late before we reached Mazotos, and I at once endeavoured to obtain a lodging, in the house of some well-to-do farmer, from whom I might hope to learn many interesting particulars concerning the manners and customs of the people. As we entered the town, I observed a court-yard leading from a stable to a small house within. At the left-hand side was a flight of stone steps, conducting to an upper chamber, which, it being harvest time, was now filled with corn.

Opposite this was the large roomy apartment, that served for living and sleeping room to the whole family. The floor was covered with tiles, and the room divided in the centre by an arch. A stone ledge of imposing appearance projected from one of the walls, and was well garnished with household utensils, whilst upon the whitewashed walls, hung the clothes, nets, hammocks, and long baskets belonging to the family. Large pitchers of red clay, and numerous calabashes, stood about, filled with bread, eggs, fruit, maize, and vegetables. The kitchen was outside in the yard, and I could not avoid noticing the cheerful alacrity and skill displayed by our worthy hostess, whilst she prepared our evening meal. Servants she had none, everything in the interior of the house being done by the members of the family, whilst out of doors they were assisted about the farm and garden by day labourers. In Cyprus, the soil is so light that a farmer will readily plough over thirty acres of ground with one yoke of oxen, and see his land reward his labours by bringing forth its fruits thirty fold. The processes of sowing and reaping are equally carelessly performed, and when this is over, but few farmers touch the fields again. For this reason, without a farmer has really extensive property, he does not incur the expense of board and wages to regular men. During the harvest time a day labourer receives three shillings a day and three meals. Should a farmer not be inclined to comply with their demands, he will stand, as with us, a very good chance of having his corn spoilt, before he can get it into his barns. At other seasons the men cannot obtain more than from elevenpence to one shilling and threepence, and the women from about fivepence to eightpence per day. Small as is the sum, it amply suffices to provide all that the lower class Cypriotes require, sleeping as they do for nine months of the year in the open air. Food, such as they principally consume, is extremely cheap, and we have it upon the authority of a gentleman who knows the island well, Consul Lang, that a family of six persons can be maintained in perfect health and activity on an allowance of forty pounds of flour and three pounds of olives per week. In ordinary seasons the cost of this quantity of provisions would not exceed three shillings and sixpence. Cesnola mentions that he has frequently seen Greek priests in Cyprus working in the fields like common peasants.

Contrary to all my experience in Cyprus, when we quitted the farmer’s house, the worthy host at once complied with my request, that he would make some charge for our accommodation. This I accounted for by the fact, that the house standing on the highway between Limasol and Larnaka, would probably attract the attention of more strangers than could be comfortably entertained without proper remuneration. A present to the poor, if your resting-place has been a convent, or a little remembrance to the children of a family, is the most that is expected throughout all those parts of the East through which I have travelled, whilst should your entertainer be a man of position and means, you cannot, without giving offence, do more than offer a “pour boire” to the four or five men-servants who will appear at the door to see you start.

Our last day’s journey, which was short but delightful, lay over a wide tract of cornfields, in traversing which we passed the village of Kiti, with its little church, embowered in fruit trees, and not far from it another church standing on a piece of barren ground, without a shrub or tree near it. On our left towered a magnificent mountain, which rises abruptly to a height of two thousand feet, and bears upon its summit the once celebrated monastery of the Holy Cross, or Hagios Stavros. This building, which is rarely or never obscured by clouds or fog, can be seen from a considerable distance at sea, and has long been known to sailors as a landmark. St. Helena is supposed to have presented this cloister with a valuable relic, which brought many pilgrims and gifts to the brotherhood. This was a piece of wood, about as long as a finger, fashioned like a cross, mounted in silver, and had the reputation of being a veritable portion of the Saviour’s cross.

Whilst it was still light, we came in sight of Larnaka, the cornfields were crowded with labourers gathering in the harvest, and these, being principally Greeks, and therefore very conversational, we could hear a lively hum of many voices long before we reached the spot. We dined under the shadow of a large fig-tree, which grew upon the brink of a rippling stream. Numerous cranes, and whole hosts of beccaficos, came within such tempting reach of our guns, that, as soon as our repast was over, we started after them, over fields where horses and camels were grazing, and over marshy ground, until we reached the rolling, glittering sea. Our sport was excellent, for my dragoman knew every call and wile by which the birds could be allured, and it required some determination when it was time to return, to quit our delightful but peculiar shooting-ground.

On my return to Larnaka I had the luck to chance upon some dear friends, with whom I supped. Our host produced the best his cellar contained, in various sorts of wine, winding up with a bottle fifty years old, most delicious, but so strong that discretion only permitted us to taste it in thimblefuls.

Next day I paid many visits in the town, and was amused to find with what astonishment the history of my little journey across the island was received. I really believe that at that time there was not a single person in the island who had seen as much of Cyprus as myself.