We rode for fourteen miles along cliffs bordering the sea, with the deep
hollows occasioned by the natural drainage causing a continual series of
ups and downs, which reminded me forcibly of the coast of South Devon
between Torquay and Dawlish. The difference lay in the rocks, which were
all plutonic, and in the scenery upon our left, which was a wild and
confused mass of mountains, scarred by deep and dark ravines, while the
more distant summits exhibited the still-existing pine-forests; these
had disappeared from the slopes which faced the coast, and had afforded
facilities for exportation. We halted in a deep glen between exceedingly
steep hills, through which a torrent-bed had cut its course directly to
the sea. In this secluded spot, far from all villages or inhabitants, we
arranged to encamp upon a flat and inviting plot of turf, which in
Cyprus is rarely met with. Some tolerable elms and other trees formed a
dense shade in a deep and narrow portion of the glen beneath the
over-hanging cliffs, and a beautiful spring of water issued from the
rock, received in a stone cistern beneath. An arch of masonry inclosed
the spring, which some kind person had thus carefully arranged for the
public good; this was richly clothed with maiden-hair ferns. The surplus
water, after overflowing the stone basin, formed a faint stream, which
trickled over the rocks between cliffs only a few feet apart, until it
emerged from this narrow cleft and joined the sea.
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