On the following morning we started at 8.30. The sky was overcast, and
in any country but this we should have expected rain. We had now fairly
emerged upon a district entirely different from the hateful Messaria,
which has given Cyprus an unfortunate reputation. We were quickly among
thickets of scrub and low brushwood which should have teemed with game.
My spaniels delighted in the change, and worked the bush thoroughly as
we proceeded along the route, occasionally flushing two or three
red-legged partridges. Passing over the higher ground with the sea in
view upon our right, we descended after a march of about three miles to
the shore, where the path skirted the sea along broken rocks, against
which in bad weather the waves would dash with sufficient violence to
bar the road. The white cliffs and hill-tops to our left were covered
with dwarf-cypress, and formed a lovely foreground above the sea,
perfectly calm beneath. The ride was apparently short, although we had
been in the saddle three hours, as the eye had been gratified by a
constant change of scenery;--from rocks washed by the blue water to
hills covered with a dense foliage of evergreens, and deep sequestered
valleys, with occasional gaps in the range of heights through which
glimpses of the sea in rocky coves burst suddenly into view. Some of
these inlets were exceedingly picturesque, as reefs extended from the
shore, overhanging cliffs having from time to time fallen in huge crags
and formed natural breakwaters to the beach.
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