Kurds of the existence of the Czar, and keep an eye on the border depredators, who, lurking about in Persia or Turkey, now and then swoop down on the Aras valley for a little booty. Before 1828, when Persia still held all of what is now the Russian side of Ararat, this plain of Sardarbulakh was a regular stronghold of the robber Kurds, who not only spoiled and murdered travellers attempting to pass this way to Bayazid, but constantly plundered the villages of the plain and the two highways of commerce which pass along the two sides of the mountain, one of them. from Tiflis and Erivan to Tavriz, the other from Trebizond and Erzerum to the same place. Now all is changed. The Kurds recognize the Czar as a power that makes for righteousness: they probably regret the good old times, but so long as they are on this side the mountain, they spare the Armenian peasant and the traveller, well knowing that on the other side they may play what pranks they please.

The height above the sea of this sloping plain varies from 8818 feet, which is given as the height of the pass leading to Bayazid, and 7000 feet; and Sardarbulakh in the middle is 7514 feet. Its lumpy volcanic hillocks-I have called it a plain, but it is far from being level-are covered with good grass; and about a mile off, near the foot of Little Ararat, appears the only bit of wood on the whole mountain—a grove of low birches, whose dimensions the wasteful Kurds are rapidly reducing. Near the birch trees is a sort of subterranean village, huts formed by hollowing out the ground and laying a few boughs, covered with

turf, across the top, through which comes such light as can penetrate. These huts are often uninhabited: I I fancy it is mostly when cold weather comes on that the Kurds take to them. There is a tale told that they were once an Armenian village, inhabited by people whom the Sardar had transported hither, but who forsook the place when his power ended. Sardar, or Sirdar, a name with which Anglo-Indians are familiar, means general or governor, and was the title of the Persian governor of Erivan. Sardar-bulakh is therefore translated as the Sardar's well. It is, of course, the presence of drinkable water that has made the Kurds and Cossacks fix themselves here, for (as has been said already) there is no other constant spring nearer than the valley of Arguri, four hours' journey. Probably some Persian viceroy may have stationed a garrison here in the old days when they carried on constant wars with the Turk. A pleasanter frontier post to be sent to out of the hot valley of the Aras could not be imagined; exquisitely keen fresh air, noble prospects over the plains and mountains to the east, and a superb peak on either hand. It is just the place which those who love the Riffel or the Aeggischhorn would enjoy. However, we thought little more of these charms than probably the Persian officers did long ago, when they grumbled at being banished from the luxuries of the city, for it was two o'clock, and we were still many hours from the base of the cone. Every one who had spoken to us about the ascent had wound up with the same advice: "Whatever chance of success you have "-only one

of our informants (Mr. Scharoyan, in Tiflis, who ascended with General Chodzko) thought we had any-" depends on your sleeping very high up, close to the snows, and starting before dawn to try the main peak." Knowing that we were out of training, and that, as we should have to find our own way up, plenty of time would be needed, we recognized the force of this advice, and were most anxious to get to the foot of the cone, a point 11,000 feet high, by nightfall. To push straight on was impossible, for horses could go no farther, and the Cossacks absolutely refused to carry even the few things we needed for a bivouac: it was therefore necessary to procure Kurds for the purpose, and that was a slow business. Minutes and half-hours slipped away while they were being found and brought to Jaafar, who had been charged by the colonel with the arrangements for our expedition. When they came, the bargaining began, and that seemed interminable. We knew nothing of what was going on, for even with Jaafar, who spoke Russian, we could not communicate directly, and were, of course, one remove further from the Kurds, whose tongue the companion who was interpreting did not understand.

It is always vexatious to be checked by difficulties and delays of merely human origin in a mountain expedition; and here we were in full sight of our goal, the glorious snows seeming to beckon us on, while the minutes which might make all the difference to success were being wasted in wranglings we could not abridge or even understand. Once or twice we struck

in to urge that, at all hazards and whatever the cost,a start should be made; but to little purpose, for the Kurds, like true children of nature, found difficulties in every course proposed, and were, so far as I could make out, not so much pleased by the prospect of earning what to them was a fortune as anxious to improve the occasion by squeezing out more. Perhaps the idea of working at all was distasteful to them : one generally finds in wild and simple people a greater disposition to prefer their inclination to their interests, and in particular more disinclination to earn money by doing anything they are not accustomed to, than in civilized man. Jaafar's plan had been to send our baggage on the backs of Kurdish oxen as far up as a place which they call the Hermitage, where, however, there is no anchorite's cell, but only a grassy hollow among the rocks with sometimes a little water, and let us either sleep there, 2000 feet higher than Sardarbulakh, or else, leaving the animals there, get on as much farther as we could before nightfall.

But these discussions had now brought us to half past four o'clock. At least half an hour more would be consumed in packing and preparations for departure. There would then remain little more than an hour's daylight to reach a higher camping ground, where, of course, we should have much less chance of sleep than here below in the tent which the Cossacks had vacated for us. Yielding, therefore, most unwillingly to circumstances, and believing that we were practically abandoning our chances for the morrow, I suggested that we should remain and sleep at Sardarbulakh,

and make a start upwards as soon as the moon rose, shortly after midnight. This idea, like anything which delayed a move, was accepted. Jaafar engaged four Kurds to go with us and carry what baggage we had, some wrappings to sleep in, and a little food-it would have been a load for one Swiss porter and a half-and told off no less than seven Cossacks to act as a guard, not merely a guard of honour, it seemed, but an actual guard to defend us against these four ferocious Kurds, who looked to me wild indeed, but by no means terrible. However, so it was settled. Whether, having really no say in the matter, we ventured to suggest that seven Cossacks were not needed, I hardly remember, but believe we were told that the Cossacks refused to go at all unless they were allowed to go in that number. The terrors of the mountain and the Kurds would have been too great for a smaller detachment.

While all this was going on, there was another scene in progress which served to appease our impatience. The two Cossack tents stood on a grassy slope, about forty yards above the well which gives its name to the place; and to this well there now came, driving their flocks before them, another band of Kurds, who had just crossed the flanks of Little Ararat from Persia in search of fresher pasture. The well is an elliptical hollow, about ten feet long by five broad, surrounded by a sort of rude, loose wall of lumps of lava, with the water in it, when we first saw it, about three feet deep. One could see where the spring rose into it from under the wall, sweet, clear, and cool. As the water lay too