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THE SCENE OF A WELL-KNOWN TRAGEDY 253 less echo of prayers long silent. It may be thought a piece of empty sentimentality to say so, but these churches seemed to me to be embodied prayers in themselves. There they stood, looking towards Jeru-salem, broken but still steadfast, like the forlorn hope of a world. But I was not all this while forgetful of other things. Quitting the churches and climbing a mound of stones, I saw at a far corner of the fortifications some low round towers overlooking the sea. I knew that somewhere or other Famagusta possessed a castle, and at once perceiving that these towers must belong to it, I set off over the grass and ruins towards them. As I walked my mind still went back to the churches, especially to the one in which the frescoes were most brilliant, and more especially still to two inscriptions I had noticed, the one on the dragon's scales, the other on the Madonna's robe. The first of these was a man's name, Demetrius Something, followed by a date. The second was a man's name also, with a date which was only a few years later. I recall this distinctly, though I forget the other. It was ' B. Barker, 1808.' The distance to the castle, could one have reached it in a straight line, would have been about half a mile, but I found unexpectedly that to reach it thus was impossible. When half-way towards it I came on a sunken lane, with a wall on the far side, and this I was obliged to follow. It led me by a long circuit amongst some of the Turkish dwellings. Wedged in between them I came upon more churches, with straw

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