A
great change has been effected since our arrival in early May. The heaps
of filth have given place to extreme cleanliness; the monks wash their
hands and faces; even the monastery yard is swept. No atom of impurity
is allowed to deface the walk from the cold spring to the great
walnut-tree. My little garden has flourished and produced largely; the
melons were of excellent flavour; the tomatoes and other vegetables were
good, including a species of esculent amaranthus which is a substitute
for spinach. I employed a man and his son to open the path for 2.75
miles, from the monastery to the military route to Troodos, which much
improved the communication, and somewhat relieved our solitude by
increasing the visits of our friends. If any stranger should now arrive
from England at Trooditissa he would appreciate the calm and cool asylum
contrasting with the heat of the lower country; but should he arrive
even one short month after our departure, I fear the picture will have
changed. Throngs of mules will have defiled our clean courtyard, and
will be stabled within our shady retreat beneath the walnut-tree, which
will remain unswept. The filthy habits of the people, now restrained
only by strong remonstrance, will be too apparent. The old monks,
Neophitos and Woomonos, (who are dear old people when clean) will cease
to wash, and the place and people will certainly relapse into the
primeval state of dirt and holiness in which we first discovered it.
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