Throughout my journey in Cyprus neither ourselves nor servants suffered
from any ailment, although we visited every portion of the country, and
I attribute this immunity from fever mainly to the care in our selection
of halting-places.

The first necessity in the evening halt was fire. This is one of the
troubles of central Cyprus--there is no fuel. The two vans and the
native cart were in a line--the bell-tent was quickly pitched for the
servants, who now for the first time experienced the comfort of an
arrangement I had made when in England. I had seven deal battens, each
seven feet long, four inches deep, by two and a half inches broad. These
were laid upon the ground twelve inches apart; seven planks, each one
foot wide, were placed across the battens to form an impromptu floor.
Upon this platform was laid a non-conductor of simply doubled hair-felt,
sewed into a thin mattress of light canvas. There was very little
trouble in this arrangement; the men were kept well off the ground, and
the hair-felt not only preserved their bodily heat from escaping, but it
prevented the damp of the earth from ascending. This mattress was ten
feet long, therefore it could be rolled up to form a bolster at one end;
and, during a hot sun, it was intended for a cover to the roof of the
gipsy van.

The first day's start is always in the afternoon, and the march is
short. We had only made three miles, and it was nearly dark when we
halted. The absence of fuel necessitates the great trouble of carrying a
supply of charcoal, and it destroys the pleasure of the cheerful
night-fires that usually enliven the bivouac in wild countries. The
plants and herbs that grow in Cyprus are all prickly; thus groping in
the dark for the first inflammable material to produce the
fire-foundation is unpleasant. There is a highly aromatic but very