erected to serve as a hasty refuge for some indigent family. If asked why they do not bestow more care upon their houses, the indolent workmen will inform you, that, “it is not worth while to build better on account of the frequent earthquakes.” On these occasions I have often felt tempted to inquire if earthquakes were only known to the modern Cypriotes? The ancient buildings of the island are readily recognised by the large blocks of brown freestone of which the walls are built.

The Cathedral of St. Sophia forms the centre of attraction in Nikosia. This fine edifice is built in the Gothic style, and richly decorated; of this ornamentation, only the carved stone-work remains. The pillared interior of the church is approached from the portico by three arched portals. The walls of this noble building are decorated by whitewash, and, to please the Turkish taste, pillars and capitals are streaked and daubed with red, green, and yellow. Happily the beautiful arched windows are still framed in rich carving. The base of the bell tower is adorned with two unusually high minarets. Close to the cathedral is the Church of St. Nicholas, with its three noble entrance gates; here all the niches are charmingly decorated with a living tracery in the shape of a great variety of stonecrop. The fine interior of this church is now used as a granary. The Archbishop’s Chapel is another interesting building, of which the walls are covered with ancient pictures. The archiepiscopal throne with its gilding and the handsome altar-screen, are but dimly seen in the mellow half light.

As I left the archiepiscopal chapel. I was met by a young priest, who brought me a friendly invitation to take a cup of coffee with the Lord Archbishop. I had so much still to see that I felt compelled to decline this courtesy. The young priest modestly urged that it was the custom for all strangers to pay their respects to his grace, and that I should not willingly be the first to decline. My time only permitted me to make a hurried call, which fact I, however, since, much regretted, as I afterwards found that the head of the Cyprian Church is a worthy and distinguished man, who well deserves his title of μακαριωτατος.

A dignitary of the Greek Church may certainly be considered as much more fortunately situated than any other official in Europe. During his entire life he can mount a perfect Jacob’s ladder of preferments and emoluments, and may don every shade of colour, in robes of black, green, yellow, and red to rich purple; he can also exhibit a variety of crosiers and mitres. The Archbishop of Cyprus, who has now obtained the highest rank, signs his name with red ink, seals with the imperial double-headed eagle, carries a shepherd’s crook, surmounted by a golden orb, and bears a title enumerating his saintly and lordly attributes. The income of this dignitary is derived from two sources—voluntary offerings and tithes, and sums paid for dispensations, marriages, and masses. The archbishop has many claims upon this revenue, and has annually to send money to Constantinople, the Archbishop of Cyprus being a vassal of the Sultan’s. The four bishops of Cyprus, though chosen from its capital, are also compelled to obtain the consent of this potentate to their election. The Greek priests are said to average two per cent. of the whole population; it may therefore be supposed that their position is a degraded one, and their incomes very small. Many of those in Nikosia can scarcely do more than read the services, and perform the various ceremonies with proper intelligence and decorum, whilst those in the village cures are so reduced that they must often resort to the mending of shoes, and tending of sheep and cattle, to earn a bare livelihood.

The church of St. Katherine, now turned into a mosque, has a fine entrance, adorned with three arches and pillars, with Corinthian capitals. Two stately marble columns lie in the court-yard; these, with their fine carved escutcheons, have been torn down by the Turks and employed as seats. The graves of the brave defenders of the city are still held in honour, and small cupolas are erected to mark their resting places. The spot where the first Turk mounted and fell when the city was stormed, is also distinguished by a small dome. The gravestone is marble, and the coffin of wood, overshadowed by the green flag of the Prophet. Nikosia can boast a very unusual number of churches and mosques, and we are told that, when the city was at the height of its glory, there were no less than two hundred and fifty chapels and churches. Cyprus is also especially remarkable for the number of graves of its saints.

In all ages the island was regarded as a harbour of refuge from persecution or tyranny, and its close proximity to Syria and Palestine attracted many suffering Christians to its shores. In the thirteenth century Cyprus possessed no less than fourteen bishoprics, each of which were founded on some memorable or sacred spot. Paul and Barnabas, we know, preached the Gospel in Cyprus, and we learn that many were turned from the error of their ways to commence a new life. Accompanied by John, the Apostles landed at Salamis, and travelled over the whole island, preaching especially in the synagogues of the Greek Jews, who were then very numerous. In Paphos they encountered the Roman consul, Sergius Paulus, who speedily became a convert, and here Elymas, the sorcerer, was struck by them with temporary blindness, as a chastisement for his endeavours to turn away their converts from the true faith. The Apostle Saul here adopted the Roman fashion and changed his name to Paulus. St. Barnabas afterwards suffered martyrdom in Salamis, where he was burnt to death. During the reign of Justinian, his grave was opened and a copy of the Gospel of St. Matthew found lying on his breast. Salamis was also the birthplace of the celebrated St. Katherine.

The royal palace of Nikosia was built in the Norman-Gothic style and must have been a noble edifice. With the exception of an arched doorway, however, but little now remains beyond the outer walls, with gaps where the windows once were, and balconies with wooden latticework and wooden roofs. This palace was formerly the residence of the pacha. During my visit to the city the gaols were full of prisoners; the majority of these, I was told, were sent over from Syrian prisons to work out their terms of imprisonment. The Cypriotes themselves bore the character of being peaceable in their habits, and not easily roused to acts of violence and crime.

In the court of the palace stands a high pillar, which tradition says criminals used to be compelled to mount before receiving their sentences. I could fancy this ancient pillar, ornamented with winged lions, must resemble that in the market-place in Venice. I observed also the shattered remains of another Venetian lion, which, a few years ago, was wantonly destroyed by one of the pachas. Near the pillar above alluded to are reared three gravestones, decorated with knightly escutcheons and Latin inscriptions.

In the evening I dined with the pacha, a gentleman of great intelligence, who has had a most thorough European education. Our conversation happened to turn upon those interesting relics of past ages. My host spoke with much regret of the damage constantly and wantonly done to them by Turkish soldiers, and bitterly deplored his own inability to check their destructive propensities, which are all the more difficult of restraint, as they proceed from religious enthusiasm; followers of Mahommed being strictly prohibited, by the Koran, to make any image; this prohibition being not only confined to works of wood and stone, but including the precious works of the sculptor and the