and by degrees he compelled the adherence of all the Tartar tribes of Dâghestân. These he so welded together, and inspired by his martial example, that he continued the war against Russia for thirty years. At one time he was a fugitive, flying for his life; at another he had driven the enemy out of every stronghold except Petrovsk, a town on the Caspian. The final act is full of dramatic force. Schamyl retired to the mountain fastness of Gûnib. This place is situated on a limestone plateau with almost vertical walls, 4000 feet above the surrounding valleys. The artillery of those days could not reach the defenders, who slept secure in their hill fort, through which ran a river. Prince Bariàtinsky, the Russian generalissimo, surrounded Schamyl and the 400 men who clung to him, with fourteen Russian battalions inured to war. As sault after assault was made on the stronghold, only to be repulsed. At last, in July 1859, the besiegers found out that a steep but accessible path led up to the main camp on the west or distant side. It was terribly difficult, but the Russian soldiers, provided with climbing irons, managed to arrive at the top. Here they found a single sentinel, who was promptly bayonetted. Then the whole battalion followed, and formed on a sort of plateau surrounded by high peaks, in rear of Schamyl, who was fighting against a feigned attack on the east side. His retreat was cut off. The brave

chief sent a parliamentary to Bariàtinsky, inviting him to come to terms. "My people are weary of war," he said, "and I must surrender." The conqueror made terms worthy of his power. The Tartars were allowed to go to their homes. The chiefs were made prisoners. Schamyl was sent first to St Petersburg, and then to Kazán, amongst his fellows in race. Eventually he was allowed to go on a pilgrimage to Mecca, and died at Medina. At Gûnìb, some few years ago, I met a grandnephew of his, an officer in the Russian artillery, Akhbar Schamyloff by name, a highly educated and most pleasant companion, speaking Russian fluently.

As one of the very few British subjects who have visited Gûnìb, I may describe the way thither. Driving to Témirnan-Shùra from Petrovsk on the Caspian, one passes over a limestone ridge whence is seen the Caspian, called by the Turks the Raven Sea-Kuzghum-Denizi-and by the Persians Derja -i- Chazyr. There is no hotel at Shùra, but several nomers. A nomer is a furnished apartment without board. From Shùra are two roads to Gûnìb. One is the bridle - path by Aimaki and Girgebil; the other is the post road, which I chose. The first station is Djeng-û-tai, a terminal one, so here a new phaeton and pair must be hired. Το Hunzâkh vid Gûnìb is 120 miles, and for conveyance thither I paid 43 roubles 50 kopecks. I had to wait at

Djeng-û-tai two hours, as the phaeton was minus a wheel and seat, which were added. The road passes over a high range, with a grand view. Over a foreground of maizefields and orchards towered a precipitous rock, crowned by a Tâtar äoul or village. From Ûrma to Levashì is a barren limestone district with little grass, yet huge flocks of small cattle and doomhas, or fat-tailed sheep, of various colours, graze over it. At Levashi were grapes at 1d. a-pound, raw eggs, and whole sheep. The scenery now assumes a wildly picturesque character. The great cliffs of limestone, of which the sierra outline is the line of outcrop or strike, are buttressed by later formations of shale, into whose sides the erosion of worn countless channels. The shapes of these are so uncommon that they resemble the forms of great mastodons, or huge mammals of a globe tenanted by creatures of, to us, unfamiliar outlines. Suddenly on either side the rocks open out fan-wise. Here lies the village of Hojal-Mâkhi, in the valley of the Kazi-Kûm-Koi-Sû. Mountains shield the valley from the north: under their shelter flourish the vine, the apple, and maize. The moon now shone on small villages of white-washed houses with redtiled roofs, tiny mosques with toy minarets, dûkhans or inns, where dirt and vermin reign undisturbed. The zigzags of the road, cut out of chalk, were almost dazzling in their alter

ages has

nations of light and shade. Fearful precipices loomed below, whilst the limestone crags towered in almost steely brightness high above. The clefts shelter the eagle, the vulture, the kite, and the lammergeïer, who before dark were soaring thousands of feet above the traveller. Thus to Gûnìb. The inhabitants wear the Lesghian bourka or long cloak, and conical caps of fur. The Dâghestânis are fierce and wild. They are Sunni Muhammadans; their women are unveiled. This race is the most ignorant and backward in the Caucasus. Its members, like all mountaineers, are hardy, brave, and hospitable towards strangers. Passionate and quick to strike, they constantly quarrel amongst themselves, using kindjal or pistol on the slightest provocation. In the words of one of my guides, "These fellows think no more of taking a human life than a cup of tea."

These are the "Tartars" who swarm into Bakù, calling the oil-fields their own. Useless to argue that without foreign capital and intelligence they could never have developed their riches. Their chief rivals, and now enemies, are the Armenians. Wherever there is work to be done, or a kopeck to be earned in the Caucasus, the Armenian makes his way. He tells you his race was conquered neither by Assyrian, Persian, Turk, or Russian; yet the ancient kingdom of Armenia is held partly by each of the last three. He is

ness, but in spite of his history of victories I doubt his solidity in war. It would be far easier to brush away the Russian battalions recruited from Armenia than those from the North, who are tough as oak and hard to beat back. Some, indeed, call the Armenian timid; but if we turn to the records of blazing Bakù we shall find he can hold his own. If we except the edict of von Plèhve, prompted by Pobiedònostseff, since fortunately rescinded by the Emperor, confiscating the revenues of their church, the Armenians have not been badly treated by the Russians. When, some years ago, the Kurds drove 80,000 starving Armenians across the Russo-Turkish frontier, of whom half passed into the province of Kârs and half into Erivân, Russia did not know how to cope with the mass of misery. The Emperor subscribed two million roubles (£200,000) out of his private purse for the relief of the sufferers, and as much more was collected in the

empire. The Catholicos, or Patriarch of the Armenian the Armenian Church, fed a number of these starving creatures. When I was at Etchmiadzin, the residence of the Catholicos, almost under the shade of Araràt, I came across many half-famished creatures who fell like wolves on the rinds of cheese or eggshells that dropped from our phaeton. The good monks at the convent did all in their power to help their fellow-countrymen, yet many

open. Seldom has misery appealed to me so much as did the sufferings of these poor men, women, and children, driven across the frontier to die by the Hamidié Kurds of the Sultan. Indeed such a sight, save in a famine district in India, cannot now, thank God, be seen in the world. The Armenians I have met have always shown the greatest gratitude to England for her endeavours on their behalf. The names of Gladstone and Westminster are always accompanied by blessings when in their mouths.

To have seen so much of a people's sorrows makes one a pro-Armenian. At Bitlis, close to the Lake of Vân, a Kurd met one of these unfortunates in the middle of the street, in broad daylight. He was displeased at seeing the Armenian wearing a dagger, and said to him, "Give me your kindjal.” The

Armenian, instead of promptly acceding to his request by giving him five inches of its cold steel,-the proper answer in these countries to such an impertinent demand,-meekly handed the weapon to his interlocutor. Without a moment's hesitation the Kurd plunged the kindjal into the heart of the Armenian, who sank without a groan at his feet! I can give time and place exactly of this, one of a hundred similar occur

rences. But opinions vary as to the relative qualities of these races. Some consider the Kurds as bad as the devil they worship, and without any good