anchored in front of the town of Samsun; but the weather cleared a little, though it remained cloudy all day, and the higher mountains behind the town were hidden. From the sea the appearance of Samsun is disappointing. Instead of finding, as one might imagine, a typical Turkish town, rows of neat white villas rise from the water's edge up the sides of the steep hills, and were it not for the presence of a mosque and one or two minarets, the place might have been anywhere on the coast of the south of France or Italy. However, ashore things are different, and one enters amongst streets and bazaars, lined with little boxlike shops and shaded by tall plane and acacia trees. The scene is picturesque enough, especially one

long shady street

leading to a large open market place where the peasants were selling their wares and goods. Here, though European costumes were common enough, by far the greater portion of the population was dressed à la Turk. In the European quarter large shops filled with European goods exist-mostly, if not all, kept by Greeks; and every manner and variety of produce and manufacture is exhibited for sale, even to ready-made sailor suits for boys.

There is but little to see beyond the crowd passing in the streets; for even the mosques show no signs of handsome architecture, and the other buildings

are all more or less of European type-a few old wooden houses with projecting upper storeys being almost all that exists typically Turkish. At a café -a large clean room surrounded by a divan — we drank coffee, watching the long lines of heavily built camels passing along the street, and the rattling springless carts, with their canvas covers often brightly decorated, with which traffic with the interior is carried on. In the bazaars there was but little of interest. Few indeed are the travellers who visit Samsun, and there can be but little or no demand for curiosities. A few antiques were shown us, but either in poor condition or false-the former especially; while some badly manufactured coins pretending to be of Alexander and Philip spoke to the fact that even in these out-of-the-way places, where antiquities ought to be found, false coins are not

uncommon.

We remained all day discharging cargo at Samsun, but I found three or four hours ashore amply sufficient to see everything several times over and to drink coffee more than once; so early in the afternoon we returned to the ship, where we found our deck passengers largely augmented, and a body of Turks amusing themselves with music and dancing. Very cheery and bright the new additions were, and they settled themselves down on board,

spreading their carpets and quilts at once. The dancing, such as it was, offered neither any great interest nor grace. A row of men holding hands trod a sort of measure, now and again varying the steps, or approaching one another, crossing their arms, or joining in a ring. Like most oriental amusements, it is monotonous, though even more so was the whining accompaniment droned out upon a small three - stringed instrument, played with a short bow.

More picturesque were the large number of Armenian peasants, who, fleeing from Turkish misrule, were en route to Batum to seek a home in Russian territory. Men, women, and children of all ages there were, and even babies in cradles. The smaller children were decidedly pretty in their bright-coloured clothes.

Soon after sunset we left Samsun, arriving some hours later at Kerassund. The situation of this small town is a charming one. Like Sinope, it stands on the neck of land that joins a promontory to the mainland. Above it, high on the rocky hill, stand the ruins of an old fortress. The surroundings of peaked and wooded mountains add much to render beautiful the little place, which from the sea is far more typically Turkish than Samsun. We did not go ashore, as a couple of hours were

sufficient to discharge our cargo; and shortly after 8 A.M. we were en route for Trebizond, passing along a coast of broken mountain and wooded hill picturesque in the extreme.

As it was to be my lot to spend only a few hours ashore at Trebizond, it would be absurd to attempt here any full description of the interesting old town, of which, to tell the truth, I saw very little. As at Sinope and Kerassund, the original founders of Trebizond seem to have chosen one of the few rocky promontories that jut out into the sea, and offer a little protection for shipping, as the site of their

town.

From the sea the place presents a charming appearance, the town climbing up the steep hillside, the old ruins of the fortifications peeping up here and there amongst the houses. Away on one spur a dense cluster of cypress-trees, outlining the brow of the hill, mark the cemetery, from which the mountain behind rises precipitously. On the flattopped spur of rock that juts out into the sea are some fortifications and modern Turkish buildings, apparently barracks.

We landed at the custom-house quay, and, after a careful scrutiny of our passports, were allowed to proceed ashore. The way into the town leads by a steep road between rather dilapidated-looking dwell

ings into the principal street of the place, which, excepting the varied costumes of the country-people, offers no great attraction either from a picturesque or any other point of view. Near the centre of this street are some ill-kept public gardens where, on the afternoon I spent there, a military band discoursed music.

I saw none of the "sights" of Trebizond,-such as they are,-preferring to pass the few hours ashore in loafing in the streets and gardens and watching the strange medley of peoples and races that congregated there. Poor Mohammed, in his Moorish clothes, attracted a large but well-behaved crowd, who gazed in wonder at his brown jelab. The police, however, interfered in our behalf, and a couple of good-natured stalwart "bobbies" kept us company for the rest of the day, showing us whatever there was to see, and delighted with an inconsiderable bakshish when we left. Decent polite fellows they were, and their presence a real comfort, as once or twice, so large was the gathering of onlookers, all traffic, as well as our own, was blocked.

Toward evening we returned once more to the Circassie, to witness one of the loveliest of sunsets, for the sun went down behind the snow-peaks that rise above the mountains at the foot of which the town stands, and the whole scene was swathed in