a set formula, then deferentially accepted the invitation to sit,
partook of the proffered sweetmeats and the cold, glittering water,
remained for a few minutes either in silence or engaged in very
thin conversation, then arose, delivered a second benediction,
followed by an elaborate farewell, and departed.

The bewitching power attributed at this day to the women of Cyprus
is curious in connection with the worship of the sweet goddess, who
called their isle her own. The Cypriote is not, I think, nearly so
beautiful in face as the Ionian queens of Izmir, but she is tall,
and slightly formed; there is a high-souled meaning and expression,
a seeming consciousness of gentle empire, that speaks in the wavy
line of the shoulder, and winds itself like Cytherea's own cestus
around the slender waist; then the richly-abounding hair (not
enviously gathered together under the head-dress) descends the
neck, and passes the waist in sumptuous braids. Of all other women
with Grecian blood in their veins the costume is graciously
beautiful, but these, the maidens of Limasol--their robes are more
gently, more sweetly imagined, and fall like Julia's cashmere in
soft, luxurious folds. The common voice of the Levant allows that
in face the women of Cyprus are less beautiful than their brilliant
sisters of Smyrna; and yet, says the Greek, he may trust himself to
one and all the bright cities of the Aegean, and may yet weigh
anchor with a heart entire, but that so surely as he ventures upon
the enchanted isle of Cyprus, so surely will he know the rapture or
the bitterness of love. The charm, they say, owes its power to
that which the people call the astonishing "politics" (p???t???) of
the women, meaning, I fancy, their tact and their witching ways:
the word, however, plainly fails to express one-half of that which
the speakers would say. I have smiled to hear the Greek, with all