In the evening, having obtained the loan of a fine Arab horse, I rode off to investigate a curious building, at no great distance from the town. This remarkable structure, which is half embedded in the earth and rock, resembles a baker’s oven, and is high enough to permit a man to stand upright within it. The sides are formed of large blocks of stone, and the roof covered by one huge slab. This erection is divided into three parts. A small chamber is hewn in the bare rock, which forms a natural wall at the back of the structure. Formerly a similar chamber opened upon the front of the large centre portion, but this is now destroyed These apartments seem to have been closed by slabs let down from above into grooves, which are still visible. This ruin was probably first used by the Phœnicians as a burial-place, and at a later date consecrated to the virgin mother Phaneromene Panagia. This spot has a great attraction for the peasant women of the surrounding country, who believe that its sacred walls possess a peculiar virtue for those suffering from grievous sickness or for childless women. These latter often make pilgrimages hither, carrying a lamp concealed under their garments. At the entrance the lamp is kindled, and the suppliant steps barefooted into the third chamber, where she offers her prayers to Panagia, and leaves her lamp as a votive offering. Turkish women, I am informed, also practise this ceremony. At a very short distance from this interesting relic, and almost close to the sea, lies the celebrated lake from which the Phœnicians extracted the salt they so largely exported. Its value has in this respect by no means deteriorated. During the winter rains it becomes filled with brackish water, which evaporates as in a vast cauldron, under the burning sun of July and August, and deposits a thick coat of fine salt at its bottom. Night soon closes in in these latitudes, and as I left the spot, the sun suddenly lit up sea, sky, and earth in one blaze of glowing colour, and then rapidly sank to rest. Darkness at once set in, and I rode home through a silence as complete, and a solitude as profound, as if I were traversing the open desert. The cause of unhealthiness in most towns in Cyprus is quite local and easily removed. Thus round Larnaka and Famagusta are marshes which infect the air, and are apt to induce fever and ague in summer. CHAPTER II. ATHIENU. At seven o’clock the following morning I started for Athienu, and as I passed through the streets of Larnaka, the town was still quiet, and almost empty.