in its production, the hills are of such an easy slope that a tramroad would convey the coal-wagons down to the ships on the sea-coast without any difficulty. No nation but the Turks would delay to make use of such a source of enormous wealth as this coal would naturally supply, when it can be had with such remarkable ease so near to the great maritime city of Constantinople.

Beyond Sinope, where the flat alluvial land stretches down to the sea-shore, there are forests of such timber as we have no idea of in these northern regions. Here there are miles of trees so high, and large, and straight that they look like minarets in flower. Wild boars, stags, and various kinds of game abound in these magnificent primeval woods, protected by the fevers and agues which arise from the dense jungle and unhealthy swamps inland, which prevent the sportsman from following the game during greater part of the year. The inhabitants of all this part of Turkey, Circassia, etc., are good shots with the short heavy rifle which is their constant companion, and they sometimes kill a deer. As their religion protects the pigs, the wild boars roam unmolested in this, for them at least, "free and independent country." The stag resembles the red deer in every respect, only it is considerably smaller; its venison is not particularly good.

Trebizonde presents an imposing appearance from the sea; it stands upon a rocky table-land, from which peculiarity in its situation it takes its name—τρаπεa being a table in Greek, if we are to believe what Dr.- used to tell us at school. There is no harbor, not even a bay, and a rolling sea comes in sometimes which looks, and I should think must be, awfully dangerous. I have seen the whole of the keel of the ships at anchor, as they rolled over from one side to the other. The view from the sea of the curious ancient town, the mountains in the background, and the great chain of the Circassian mountains on the left, is magnificent in the extreme. The only thing that the Black Sea is good for, that I know of, (and that, I think, may be said of some other seas,) is fish. The kalkan balouk, shield-fish-a sort of turbot, with black prickles on his back-though not quite worth a voyage to Trebizonde, is well worth the attention of the most experienced gastronome when he once gets there. The

red mullet also is caught in great quantities; but the oddest fish is the turkey. This animal is generally considered to be a bird, of the genus poultry, and so he is in all outward appearances; but at Trebizonde the turkeys live entirely upon a diet of sprats and other little fish washed on shore by the waves, by which it comes to pass that their flesh tastes like very exceedingly bad fish, and abominably nasty it is; though, if reclaimed from these bad habits, and fed on corn and herbs, like other respectable birds, they become very good and are worthy of being stuffed with chestnuts and roasted, and of occupying the spot upon the dinner-table from whence the remains of the kalkan balouk have been removed.

On landing, the beauty of the prospect ceases, for, like many Oriental towns, the streets are lanes between blank walls, over which the branches of fig-trees, roofs of houses, and boughs of orange and lemontrees appear as intervals; so that, riding along the blind alleys, you do not know whether there are houses or gardens on each side.

Leaving Trebizonde we sallied in a straggling line, up the hill, along the only road known in this part of the world. This wonder and miracle of art extends one mile, to the top of a little hill. It is said to have cost nineteen thousand pounds. It ascends the mountain side in defiance of all obstacles, and is more convenient for rolling down than climbing up, as it is nearly as steep as a ladder in some places. When you get to the top you are safe, for there is no more road as far as Tabriz. A glorious view rewards the traveler for his loss of breath in accomplishing the ascent. From hence the road is a track, wide enough for one loaded horse, passing through streams and mud, over rocks, mountains, and precipices, such as I should hardly have imagined a goat could travel upon; certainly no sensible animal would ever try to do so, unless upon urgent business. Pleasure and amusement must be sought on broader ways; here danger and difficulty occur at every step; nevertheless, the horses are so well used to climbing, and hopping, and floundering along, that the obstacles are gradually overcome. In looking back occasionally, you wonder how in the world you ever got to the spot you are standing on. The sure-footedness of the horses

was marvelous; we often galloped for half an hour along the dry course of a mountain torrent, for these we considered our best places, over round stones as big as a man's head, with larger ones occasionally for a change; but the riding-horses hardly ever fell. The baggage horses, encumbered with their loads, tumbled in all directions; but these unlucky animals were always kicked up again by the efforts of a posse of hard-fisted, hard-hearted muleteers, and were soon plodding on under the burdens which it seems it was their lot to bear for the remainder of their lives.

On the second day from Trebizonde we arrived at the snow. The hoods with which we had provided ourselves were pulled over our heads. I tied my bridle to the pommel of my saddle, put my hands in my pockets, and nevertheless galloped along -at least the horse did—and all the better for my not holding the bridle. In mountain traveling this is perhaps the most necessary of all the whole craft and art of horsemanship, not to touch the bridle on any occasion, except when you want to stop the horse; for, in difficult circumstances, a horse or a mule goes much better if he is left to his own devices. In some dreadful places, I have seen a horse smell the ground, and then, resting on his haunches, put one foot forward as gently as if it were a finger, cautiously to feel the way. They have a wonderful instinct of self-preservation, seeming quite aware of the perils of false steps, and the dangers by which they are surrounded on the ledges of bleak mountains, and in passing bogs and torrents in the valleys below.

At Beyboort we were received by the governor, a Bey, who gave us a famous good dinner or supper, whereof we all eat an incredible quantity, and almost as much more at breakfast next morning. At Gumush Hané, where there are silvermines, a good-natured old gentleman who was sitting by the roadside gave me the most delicious pear I ever tasted. This place is famous for its pears. Being situated in a deep valley, the climate is much better than most parts of the country on this road. Here we put up in a good house, slept like tops, and waddled off next morning, as before. I had an enormous pair of boots lined with sheepskin, which were the envy and admiration of the party : they were amazing snug certainly, and nearly came up to my middle. If they

had been a little bit larger, I might have crept into one at night, which would have been a great convenience; they were of the greatest service on horseback, but on foot I had much difficulty in getting along, and was sorry I had neglected to inquire how Jack the giant-killer managed with his seven-league boots.

The next day we proceeded to Erzeroum, and at a village about two hours' distance we were met by all the authorities of the city on horseback. Some horses with magnificent housings were sent by the pasha for the principal personages, and we rode into the town in a sort of procession, accompanied by perhaps two hundred well-mounted cavaliers caracoling and prancing in every direction.

Erzeroum is situated in an extensive elevated plain, about thirty miles long and about ten wide, lying between seven thousand and eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. It is surrounded on all sides with the tops of lofty mountains, many of which are covered with eternal snow. The city is said to contain between thirty and forty thousand inhabitants, but I do not myself think that it contains much more than twenty thousand; this I had no correct means of ascertaining. The city is said to have been, and probably was, more populous before the disasters of the last Russian war. It stands on a small hill, or several hills, at the foot of a mountain with a double top, called Devé Dagh, the Camel Mountain. The original city is nearly a square, and is surrounded by a double wall with peculiarly-shaped towers, a sort of pentagon, about twenty towers on each side, except on the south side, where a great part of the walls is fallen down. Within these walls, on an elevated mound, is the smaller square of the citadel, where there are some curious ancient buildings and a prison, which I must describe afterward; a ditch, where it is not filled up with rubbish and neglect, surrounds the walls of the city; and beyond this are the suburbs, where the greater part of the population reside. Beyond this an immense work was accomplished as a defense against the Russian invaders. This is an enormous fosse, so large and deep and wide as to resemble a ravine in many places. It was some time before I was aware that this was an artificial work; as there are no ramparts, walls, or breastworks on the inner side of that immense

excavation, it can have been of no more use than if it did not exist, and did not, I believe, stop any of the Russians for five minutes. They probably marched down one side and up the other, supposing it to be a pleasing natural valley, useful as a promenade in fine weather, and the prodigious labor employed in such a work must have been entirely thrown away.

The palace of the pasha, and those of the cadi and other functionaries, are within the walls of the town; the doorways are the only parts of the houses on which any architectural ornaments are displayed; many of these are of carved stone, with inscriptions in Turkish beautifully cut above them. There are said to be seventeen baths, but none of them are particularly handsome, though the principal apartment is covered with a dome, like those in finer towns. The mosques amount, it is said, to forty-five: I never saw half so many myself. Many of them are insignificant edifices; the principal one, or cathedral, as it may be called, is of great size, its flat turf-covered roof supported by various thick piers and pointed arches. The finest buildings are several ancient

tombs these are circular towers, from twenty to thirty feet in diameter, with conical stone roofs beautifully built and ornamented. There must be twenty or thirty of these very singular edifices, whose dates I was unable to ascertain; they probably vary from the twelfth to the sixteenth century, judging from a comparison of their ornamental work with Saracenic buildings in other parts of the world.

There are one or two Greek churches and two Armenian churches here, both very small, dark, cramped places, with immensely thick walls and hewn-stone roofs. They appear to be of great antiquity, but can boast of no other merit. Adjoining the principal one, in which is a famous miraculous picture of St. George, they were building a large and handsome church, which is now completed, in the Basilica form, with an arched stone roof. Cut stone being very expensive, and indeed, from the want of good masons, very difficult to procure, the priests bethought themselves of a happy expedient to secure square hewn stones for the corners, doorway, windows, etc., of the new cathedral. They told their flock that, as the ancient

are formed; if they are large, their roofs are supported by columns like the stable. In a large house there are often two stables. The space of ground taken up by a rich man's house is prodigious, the turfed roof forming a small field. The lesser rooms in this subterranean habitation are divided from the stable and from each other by rough stone walls well filled up with clay or mud; their ceilings are contrived by laying beams across each other, two along and two across, in the form of a low pyramid, so that the ceiling is a kind of low square dome: the smaller rooms form store-rooms and apartments for the women. Each room has a rough stone fireplace opposite the door; and in the roof, generally over the door, there is one window about eighteen inches square, glazed with a piece of oiled paper. Out

side, these windows look like large molehills, with a bit of plaster on one side surrounding the oiled paper, or glass, which transmits the light. Inside, the window is perceived at the end of a funnel, widening greatly toward the room, and contrived so as to throw the light to the center of the apartment opposite the fireplace, where a fire of tezek, or dried cow-dung and chopped straw, is constantly smoldering. Over the chimney-piece hangs an iron lamp of simple construction, which, with the help of the fire, produces a dim light in the long nights of winter. There is a divan, usually covered with most beautiful Koordish carpets, which last forever, on each side of the fireplace; and large wooden pegs, projecting from the walls, serve to hang up guns, pistols, cloaks, and anything else. Some of these rooms are rather pretty in appearance; the floors are covered with tekkè, a thick gray felt; and among smart people Persian carpets are laid over the felt, their beautiful colors producing a rich and comfortable effect. About half way up the chimney is a wooden door or damper, which is opened and shut by means of a string; and when it is very cold weather, and they want to be snug and fusty down below, this door is shut, and the room becomes as hot as an oven; the chimney does not rise more than two feet above ground, and has a large flat stone on the top to keep the snow from falling in, as well as the lambs and children; the smoke escapes by apertures on the sides just below the copingstone. The chimneys look like toad

stools from the outside, rising a little above the snow or the grass which grows upon the roof. These subterranean habitations are constructed, not on the side of a hill, but on the side of a gentle slope; and all the earth excavated for the house is thrown back again upon the roof in such a manner that on three sides there is often no sign of any dwelling existing underneath. The entrance is on the lower side of the slope, and there the mound is often visible, as it is raised four or five feet above the level of the hill-side. There are no fences to keep people off the roof, which has no appearance different from the rest of the country. It is often only the dirt opposite the doors, the cattle, and people standing about, which gives information of a small village being present; particularly during the eight months of snow and ice and intense cold, when no one stirs abroad, except for matters of importance. When a house is ruined and deserted, these holes are sometimes rather dangerous, as the horse you are riding may put his foot into an old chimney and break his leg, there being very frequently no appearance of a habitation below, while you are passing through the open desolate country, of which the roof seems to be a part. There are stories, perhaps founded on fact, of hungry thieves lifting the flat stone off the top of the chimney and fishing up the kettle in which the supper was stewing over the fire below, with a hooked stick; a feat which would not be at all difficult if the cook was thinking of something else, as sometimes will happen even in the best regulated families.

Out

The most curious and remarkable part of the house is the great ox-stable, which often holds some scores of cattle. of this stable they do not stir, frequently, during the whole winter season, and it is the breath and heat of these animals which warm the house; besides which, they manufacture all the fuel for the establishment: they are fed upon straw, bruised to small bits by the sledge which is driven round the thrashing-floor to separate the corn from the husk after harvest-time. In one corner of this huge dim stable, near the entrance door, a wooden platform is raised three feet from the ground: two sides of it are bounded by the stone wall of the house, in one of which opposite the door is the fireplace; the other two sides of the square platform have open wooden