faithful followers were left; with these he retired to his fortress of Keryneia. This castle, which is situated on the coast, is backed by steep rocks, with the sea in front, whilst the country round is so plentifully supplied with flowers and fruit as to form a veritable paradise.

Ample means of entertainment for the garrison were provided, and they thought themselves prepared to make an obstinate resistance. Should the worst come to the worst they trusted to save themselves readily by sea, as the fortress had an entrance which opened directly on the shore, and some small ships were anchored in the haven. Message after message was sent from the pacha, commanding Halil Aga to surrender in the name of the Sultan, to which he replied that he was defending the castle for that potentate. On the 28th of July, Kyor Mahommed encamped about Keryneia, and at once commenced filling up the moats and making breaches in the walls for the purpose of mounting the latter with their scaling ladders. The besieged knew how to use their guns, and behaved with so much spirit, that every attack was repulsed.

The troop ships of the pacha now arrived and opened fire on the fine old fortress, trying it most severely. Behind them were seen Dschassar Bey, with his frigate and two other ships; and last, though not least, Ibrahim Bey and his three little galliots. These new arrivals completely closed Keryneia on the sea side, and rendered escape that way utterly hopeless.

The efforts of the besieged were now prompted by despair. The pacha was becoming uneasy at the long delay, fearing daily that there would be a general rising against him in the island, and had recourse to base cunning to overcome his brave antagonist.

The captain of the line ships, Meleky Bey, was desired to demand a secret interview with Halil Aga. This meeting took place on the night of the 14th of August, on which occasion Meleky forcibly urged that it would be advisable for Halil Aga to come on board the ships of the line, and trust to his friendly intervention for favourable terms. There could be no question of safety, for was it not well known that Turkish sailors would be hewn in pieces before they would betray a man who had trusted to their honour? Meleky spoke with so much apparent frankness that Halil Aga fell into the trap, and before night he had taken shelter on one of the ships. Next day he was handed over to the pacha, who, however, received him kindly, and offered him a tent for his

own use.

As soon as this reception was known in the castle, the garrison surrendered at discretion. The position was at once changed. All the women were allowed to retire with bag and baggage, but the men were declared prisoners. Halil Aga's officers were thrown into chains, and he himself closely watched.

On the 19th instant, the unfortunate captive was brought

before the pacha, who received him kindly, and requested to hear from his own lips who had been implicated in the rising. This done, the pacha changed his tone, and angrily demanded whether Halil Aga supposed that the Sultan intended that his fortresses should be used for seditious purposes? As he spoke, some of his minions entered, and the unhappy victim of his treachery was strangled on the spot.

On the 21st of August, Giergil Oghlu and his wild crew were desired to set sail, without having been allowed to land. The pacha retired with his prisoners, and his myrmidons at once spread over the island. All those who had been implicated in the late revolts, and were still free, quitted Cyprus. Many, however, were captured before they reached the coast. Investigations into the recent events were set on foot in Nikosia, and at its conclusion two hundred of the accused were decapitated. Their heads, with that of Halil Aga, were salted down, and sent to Constantinople, with a full account of what had occurred in this island.

Kyor Mahommed was made a pacha of three tails and governor of the pachalik of Koniah. Hafiz Mahommed had been previously desired to leave Cyprus, and Soliman Effendi reigned in his stead. So ended a sad page in the history of this unlucky island, which during these three years of insurrection, had lost the flower of her Turkish population, and seen her castles and buildings destroyed.

These ruins were never rebuilt; successive misfortunes and

the insecurity of the future prospects of the island seem to have quenched all spirit of emulation and progress in the much-tried population, and Cyprus appeared to have finally lost her proud place in the world's history.

77

CHAPTER IX.

THE PLAINS OF CYPRUS.

EARLY on the morning of the 25th of April, I bade adieu to Nikosia, the capital of Cyprus—a fair city even in these days of her ruin and decay. As I look back at her, as she appeared to me, I always find myself comparing the image with that of a stately and beautiful dame over whose faded charms, faint and occasional flashes of former loveliness are now and then visible. The day was glorious as I left the dark city gates and stepped forth upon the bright and boundless plains; corn-fields extended to the feet of the long chain of mountains, which glowed with deepest purple in the foreground, and towered black and shadowy in the far distance; whilst straight before me, from behind the dark, cloud-like masses, peeped the snowy head of Mount Olympus. This name "Olymp," which is conferred in almost every Grecian