My host was in all respects a fine, generous fellow. I could not
bear the idea of impoverishing him by my visit, and I consulted my
faithful Mysseri, who not only assured me that I might safely offer
money to the vice-consul, but recommended that I should give no
more to him than to "the others," meaning any other peasant. I
felt, however, that there was something about the man, besides the
flag and the cap, which made me shrink from offering coin, and as I
mounted my horse on departing I gave him the only thing fit for a
present that I happened to have with me, a rather handsome clasp-
dagger, brought from Vienna. The poor fellow was ineffably
grateful, and I had some difficulty in tearing myself from out of
the reach of his thanks. At last I gave him what I supposed to be
the last farewell, and rode on, but I had not gained more than
about a hundred yards when my host came bounding and shouting after
me, with a goat's-milk cheese in his hand, which he implored me to
accept. In old times the shepherd of Theocritus, or (to speak less
dishonestly) the shepherd of the "Poetae Graeci," sung his best
song; I in this latter age presented my best dagger, and both of us
received the same rustic reward.

It had been known that I should return to Limasol, and when I
arrived there I found that a noble old Greek had been hospitably
plotting to have me for his guest. I willingly accepted his offer.
The day of my arrival happened to be the birthday of my host, and
in consequence of this there was a constant influx of visitors, who
came to offer their congratulations. A few of these were men, but
most of them were young, graceful girls. Almost all of them went
through the ceremony with the utmost precision and formality; each
in succession spoke her blessing, in the tone of a person repeating