These were narrower than our
vans, and one of our wheels was generally upon a higher level,
threatening on some occasions to overturn. The country around us was
desolate in its aridity. We passed through the ruins of an ancient city
over which the plough had triumphed, and literally not one stone was
left upon another. A few stone columns of a rough description, some of
which were broken, were lying in various directions, and I noticed a
lower millstone formed of an exceedingly hard conglomerate rock; these
pieces were too heavy to move without great exertions, therefore they
had remained in situ.
After a short march of three miles we arrived at the steep banks of the
river a mile above the village of Arpera. The bed of this river was
about forty feet below the level of the country, and here our first real
difficulty commenced in descending a rugged and precipitous track, which
at first sight appeared destructive to any springs. The gipsy-van was
conducted by the owner of the fine pair of bullocks; but this fellow
(Theodoris) was an obstinate and utterly reckless character, and instead
of obeying orders to go steadily with the drag on the wheels, he put his
animals into a gallop down the steep descent, with the intention of
gaining sufficient momentum to cross the sandy bottom and to ascend the
other side. If the original gipsy proprietor could have seen his van
leaping and tossing like a ship in a heavy sea, with the frantic driver
shouting and yelling at his bullocks while he accelerated their gallop
by a sharp application of the needle-pointed driving prick, he would
have considered it the last moment of his movable home.
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