Finally the beautiful youth, the host's son, made beds for us of two quilts and a pillow on the sofa, and there we slept. I wonder what a young squire in England would say if his father told him to make beds for his guests. Next morning we were much pressed to stay both by our host and his son, but we had to resist, much as we had been pleased with our entertainment. So we distributed plentiful bakshish and rode away. Our road lay along the shore, with fine views of Retimo and the Sphakiote Hills. Then over a high ridge to a khan at the foot of Ida. Here we had some refreshments and a dispute with the khangee, who tried to steal one of our spoons under cover of great professions of friendliness. After Avlopotamo the road became very dangerous. It ran by the side of awful precipices and over slippery rocks, and it was getting dark. Indeed, had it been lighter I don't suppose we should have ridden over it. In one place our janissary fell, and his horse's legs dangled over the precipice in a way to make one's blood run cold. No roads in Maina could be worse. The light of a fire beckoned us from afar to the monastery of Kalipo Christo, but we found the gate closed and the papades not to be seen. They were frightened and had hidden themselves. The fact is, the Turks in the country here are so brutal and lawless that if they once get into a monastery of this kind they eat and drink all they can get, never think of paying, and perhaps rob or murder some of the monks. There were several little boys hanging about to peep at us, one of whom our janissary caught, and by drawing his sword and threatening to imbrue it in his blood he terrified him into fetching the monks out of their concealment. Once in, the papades were very communicative. They told us that their convent was not freehold, and that it belonged to a Turk of Canea, who exacted an exorbitant rent. The ruinous condition of the villages which we observed as we came along was due, they said, to the earthquake of February 14, 1810. It came, as they always do, with a west wind, and as many as two thousand lives were lost. A blackguardly Tartar came and sat with us, with whom we presently quarrelled, and finally, when his behaviour grew intolerable, we had to kick him out. We left early, but our Tartar must have been ashamed of himself, for we saw nothing of him; he had gone on. The road wound up and up among barren rocks for about five hours, till we reached the ridge and a stupendous view of Candia, Ida, and the sea. In three hours more we reached Candia, and took up our quarters in the house of a Jew. There, in the course of the evening, we received a visit from the dragoman of the pasha, a very stupid Greek, who tried to be very, very grand, and later from the master of the pasha's household, Chiouk Emene, a most urbane Turk. He was very particularly proud of his watch, and produced it, compared it with ours, and begged me to say his was the best.