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.
We were now once more upon a flat table-top, about a hundred feet above
the plain between us and the sea, a mile and a half distant. The edge of
the table-land formed a cliff, choked from its base with huge fallen
blocks of sedimentary limestone, from the crevices of which trees grew
in great profusion, reminding one of hanging coverts upon hill-sides in
England. Descending a steep but well-trodden path between these
cottage-like masses of disjointed rock, we arrived at the prettiest
camping-ground that I had seen in Cyprus. This had formed the camp of
the Indian troops when the occupation had taken place in July, 1878, and
unfortunately in this charming spot they had suffered severely from
fever.
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