I invariably found that during the day I hated my van, and in the evening I blessed it. It certainly delayed us on the march, and as we rode some miles in advance we noted the obstacles that would cause a stoppage, and generally halted to assist when the "tortoise" should arrive. All this was of course annoying in a country where a horse would have cantered cheerily along and have accomplished forty miles a day; but, on the other hand, the van was never intended for grande vitesse; neither is express travelling the proper method of obtaining an accurate knowledge of a new country. Thus we crawled along, making twelve or thirteen miles per diem through a most uninteresting country, the usual scene of treeless waste, but dotted over with extensive villages of mud-built houses, and the inevitable white arched-roof Greek churches. The only incidents that occurred in this land of apathy were occasioned by our guide, who generally lost his way, and spent some hours in finding the vans at the halting-place in the evening; this was not improving to the temper, and of course I laid the blame upon Cyprus generally, and abused the island almost to the superlative degree adopted by the "newspaper correspondents." The 17th February was a day of considerable bodily exercise, as we arrived at a series of watercourses as deep and broad as military trenches for sapping up to a fortress. We had no sooner levelled an embankment, and with great difficulty dragged the vans across, than we encountered a new and similar obstruction. At length we arrived within half a mile of the large village Arshia, which, being well irrigated, opposed a perfect network of barriers in the shape of artificial water-channels. The oxen became disheartened, and the pair which drew the blue van driven by our favourite Georgi determined to strike work just as he was applying the sharp driving prick to their posteriors in ascending a steep bank, through which we had cut a passage from the deep water-course beneath. Instead of keeping a straight course, these pig-headed bullocks made a sharp turn to the right up the incline. Down went one upon its knees in rage and despair! while round went the other in an opposite direction: crash went the pole in two pieces! and the blue van, having vainly endeavoured to right itself like a lady about to faint when no one is at hand to save her, tottered for a moment, and turned over with a crash that betokened general destruction. My Abyssinian lad, Amarn, was only just in time to escape, as he had been endeavouring to support the van on the impending side when it suddenly capsised, and he would have been flattened like a black-edged mourning envelope had he not actively sprung out of the way.