indispensable articles. Even the aneroid which had come with us from Tiflis I had been forced by its weight to leave behind in the tent at Sardarbulakh.

After packing our scanty stock of camping gear as well as we could in the darkness, and counting the bundles on the Kurds' backs, we set off down the dark ridges and darker valleys, stumbling about over huge rocks under the feebly glimmering moon, losing often our companions, and sometimes the way itself. How we got safe down was a marvel to us at the time; but one frequently has the same cause for wonder in night walks. Perhaps the muscles and sinews, knowing what depends upon them, acquire a sort of preternatural elasticity and readiness, which enables them to adapt themselves to an emergency, and carry one safely through innumerable risks. There was no track, but the Kurds seemed to have an idea where they were going. Many were the halts which the Cossacks made, stretching themselves on the grass to laugh and talk; nor was it now worth while to hurry them. Now and then we tried to get a nap during these delays, but though scarcely able to walk for drowsiness, as soon as we lay down and shut our eyes, we became bolt awake. At length the morning star rose in unearthly brightness, and not long after we came to a sweet little grassy plain, where two or three Kurds, whose flocks were pasturing hard by, had lit a fire of withered bushes, to which our Kurds led us up in a friendly way, bidding us (as we guessed) warm ourselves. The Cossacks had nearly all gone on out of sight, and we were (as it afterwards struck

us) entirely at the mercy of these wild, swarthy fellows, on whose glittering daggers and matchlocks the firelight played. However, they had no thought of mischief; perhaps, if it had occurred to them, the sense of hospitality, which is proverbially strong in the East, would have restrained them from harming those with whom they had eaten. Then between four and five o'clock another glorious dawn began; and just before sunrise we reached the tent at Sardarbulakh, much to the relief of Jaafar's mind, and flung ourselves down on the tent floor to sleep the sleep of the weary.

Roused again at eight or nine o'clock-both the watches had stopped, so we could only guess at the time of day—we ought clearly to have gone up Little Ararat, and obtained from his top a fuller notion of his great brother's structure. Provisions, however, ran short, and the Cossacks were anxious to return to Aralykh, taking back with them their comrades whom we had found in the two tents, as the post was to be withdrawn for the season. Accordingly the tents were struck, everything packed on the baggage horses, the Kurds paid for their day's and night's service on the hill. Then, before starting, the Cossacks gathered in a ring in front of the spot where the tents had stood, and began singing Russian songs. The words we, of course, could not follow-I believe they were mostly camp songs, some commemorating military exploits, some farewells to departing comrades-but the airs, usually lively, but · occasionally tender and plaintive, dwelt long in our

memory. One stood in the middle and led, firing off a gun at intervals, the others sometimes singing with him, sometimes merely joining in the refrain or chorus. The voices were good, and the time. perfect.

In an English daily newspaper of July 27, 1877, I found the following passage:-"Utterly remorseless, the Cossack falls upon a hostile country like a demon of destruction. There is no getting away from his thirsty lance, no assuaging his fierce fury, no appeasing that innate devilry which makes him regard cruelty to his fellow-creatures as a delightful pastime. Mercy to the conquered is not a part of the Cossack creed. The savage does not expect it, does not give it. He is content to carry his life in his hand, for those to take who can; but while it remains with him, he intends to make it pleasant, according to his lights, by miscellaneous pillage and slaughter."

Now I cannot say what the Cossack may be in war time, for I saw him only in peace. In all men the brute comes out at the taste of blood; and no doubt in him also. What I can venture to say is that, comparing him in time of peace with the soldiers of other countries, I have never seen any so apparently gentle, so unlikely to prove, even in war, "utterly remorseless. demons of destruction." These sons of harmony were the merriest, simplest, most good-natured fellows we could have wished to ramble over the hills with. The countenance after all cannot wholly belie the character; and among the hundreds of Cossacks we met in the Caucasian provinces, there were fewer hard or

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fierce faces than we had ever seen in as many fighting men before. "Wanton cruelty," "innate devilry," and so forth, are not passions that can be wholly repressed even in peace time; yet I never heard from either the Armenians or the Germans, who are keen critics of everything Russian, a word of complaint as to the behaviour of these irregulars among the people. No doubt the Cossack has a keen scent for supplies on a campaign, and helps himself pretty freely, without paying for what he takes. But there is not a particle of evidence to show that he has of late years ever done anything more cruel in war than all troops do,' the French, the German, or our own. Compare him with the Austrian Pandurs of last century, or the BashiBazouks of to-day, and he seems almost white against such foul blackness. Of course I do not suppose that the writer of this article had anything particular in his eye. He wanted to write tellingly and the article was telling. But is it not pitiful that at this time of day able writers should be content to stir up hatred between nations for the sake of a little literary effect?

Before noon we bid a regretful farewell to Sardarbulakh, and rode down into the plain, this time taking a track outside of the buttress of Takjaltu, instead of behind it, and thence across the arid slopes to Aralykh, which we reached about four o'clock without further incident, though once during the way an alarm was given that there were strange people about, and

1 We can all remember the false stories that were industriously circulated about the excesses of the Germans in France in 1870, and of the Federal troops in the American Civil War; yet it is now generally admitted that no invading troops ever behaved so well.

Jaafar rode ahead to reconnoitre. Owing, I suppose, to the bracing quality of the keen dry air, we were much less fatigued than we had expected to be. Colonel Shipshef welcomed us with characteristic heartiness, and we spent a pleasant evening with him, lamenting more than ever that unhappy event at the tower of Babel which made our communications so limited. Next morning we mounted the tarantass once more, and drove off across the Araxes and through the dusty villages back into the furnace of Erivan.

Two days later I found myself at the Armenian monastery of Etchmiadzin, near the northern foot of Ararat, and was presented to the archimandrite who rules that illustrious house. It came out in conversation that we had been on the mountain, and the Armenian gentleman who was acting as interpreter turned to the archimandrite and said: "This Englishman says he has ascended to the top of Massis" (Ararat). The venerable man smiled sweetly. "No," he replied, "that cannot be. No one has ever been there. It is impossible."