In passing through the streets of the town, I observed through the gates of the high-walled gardens many varieties of fruit trees, apple, pear, and figs; orange, lemon, mulberry, and pomegranate trees also lent their blossoms to give the finishing touches to the scene. The garden walls are high, but not so lofty as to exclude from view the slender white minarets, dark cypresses, and waving palms that they enclose. Half Nikosia is made up of these lovely gardens. Everywhere water-pipes are gently pouring forth their offerings to the thirsty ground, and the whole town is redolent of perfume. The Cyprian sky resembles that of the Nile valley in its cloudless, deep blue, and is equally beautiful in its clear expanse; while as for the climate, a very few days in its soft, delicious, balmy air makes one understand why, of all the Grecian islands, Cyprus should have been allotted the privilege of being regarded as the favorite residence of the Goddess of Love. At first I felt inclined to linger in this lovely spot and make myself acquainted with its literature; but a nearer view showed me my time would not be profitably spent. Society there was none, the few Europeans the city contained being entirely engaged in striving to make a little money. Domestic life in Cyprus is generally confined within the precincts of its beautiful gardens, and in most of its relations is strictly Turkish. Women of the higher classes in Nikosia wear a delicate white veil and silken garments, instead of the bright blue, yellow, and red veil usually seen in the other towns.