Small brooks intersected our path along the coast, and in several places
I remarked the ruins of ancient aqueducts. . . . There was nothing of
peculiar interest upon this route; the land inclined upwards from the
sea for six or seven miles to the foot of the mountain range, all of
which was either cultivated with cereals or was covered with caroub-
trees and olives. Many villages were dotted over the surface; these were
green with mulberry and various fruit-trees. With the sea upon our
right, and the waves dashing briskly upon the rocky shore, the scene was
agreeable; but the sun was hot, and we were not sorry to see the distant
minarets of Ktima after a ride of seventeen miles from Arodes.
We passed the ruins of ancient Paphos upon our right, and shortly
afterwards ascended the rocky slope upon which the capital of the
district, Ktima, is situated. It is a large town, and as we rode through
the bazaar the narrow street was almost blocked with huge piles of
oranges that had been imported from Jaffa, the season for the Cyprus
fruit being nearly over.
Iiani was exceedingly stupid in selecting camping-ground, therefore
upon arrival at a new place we invariably had to explore the
neighbourhood, like migratory birds landed upon strange shores. We
accordingly rode through the considerable town of Ktima amidst the
barking and snapping of innumerable dogs, who attacked our British
spaniels, keeping up a running fight throughout the way, until we
emerged upon open country beyond the outskirts.
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