From Egypt I sailed to Cyprus in a tub of a ship； where a rat had its nest behind my bunk。 It was my first visit to that delightful and romantic isle； over which all the civilisations have poured in turn； wave by wave； till at length came the Turk； beneath whose foot “the grass does not grow；” and； by the special mercy of Providence； after the Turk the English。
Here I was the guest of my old chief； Sir Henry Bulwer； who at that time was High missioner for the island。
From Government House at Nicosia I made various delightful expeditions in the pany of Mrs。 Caldwell； Sir Henry Bulwer’s sister； and her daughters。 For instance we visited Famagusta； that marvellous mediaeval； walled town； built and fortified by the Veians； that the Turks took after a terrible siege； for the details of which I will refer the reader to my book； “A Winter Pilgrimage；” written many years later after a second visit to Cyprus。
In 1887； strange as it may seem； the debris of this siege were still very much in evidence。 Thus after about three centuries the balls fired by the Turkish cannon lay all over the place。 I hold one of them in my hand as I write； slightly pit…marked by the passage of time； or more probably by flaws in the casting。
Here in this beautiful island of Venus I trusted； before turning to my tasks again； to have a little real holiday after a good many years of very hard work。 But； as it happened； holidays have never been for me。 At the age of nieen； to say nothing of the preliminary toils of education； I began to labour； and at the age of fifty…six I still find myself labouring with the firm and； so far as I can judge； well…grounded prospect that I shall continue to labour on public and private business till health and intelligence fail me； or； as I h