homedan graveyards are situated on the heights, and up some of the slopes in the rear of the houses; while in the soft limestone cliff we again meet with excavated caves like those at Inkerman and Mangoup. The shops are very numerous, consisting of bakers', leather-workers', where pretty and gaudy slippers, whips, bridles, &c., are sold, confectioners', and coffeehouses, to which have been added billiard-rooms, cafés, and hotels. The maps tell us that no Russian is allowed to reside here; however, the war has broken through all former arrangements, and Russian officers and soldiers are billeted in the houses, while the sacred palace of the khans is turned into a hospital for the troops. The narrow street was crowded with soldiers, officers, Jews, Tartars, Germans, and camp followers of all descriptions; and sounds of revelry proceeded from various cafés, in the windows of which the scarlet coat of an English officer was occasionally visible; and beardless subalterns, mounted on their faithful bât-pony, pushed their way through the crowd, seeking for some hotel.

Hastening as rapidly as we could through the mass, many of whom had evidently been indulging in deep potations, we at length reached the palace, situated in the widest portion of the ravine near the centre of the town. A guard was mounted at the gate, but made no opposition to our entrance into a large courtyard, around which were piled the irregular buildings of the palace. A soldier was in waiting to receive and to guide us round the building, and commenced operations by conducting us into a room where a large quantity of the ancient furniture of the palace, carpets and silk hangings, beautifully embroidered, were piled. Our guide next took us into the Hall of Justice, a room adorned with much carved and painted woodwork, and some painting on the walls. A latticed gallery was pointed out at one end, where the khan is said to have watched the decision of the judges, concealed from sight by the painted and gilded grating. From this we were led through many chambers of the

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palace, each resembling the other in style the walls painted in oils; views of scenery, in which the perspective was of the same correctness as adorns our delf of the wellknown bridge-and-pagoda pattern. The ceilings were of dark woodwork, carved, painted, and gilt; and the windows filled with painted glass, consisting generally of yellow, paleblue, green, and red bits, mingled with the white in two or three different patterns. Many of these rooms, appropriated as wards for the sick and wounded, were at this time nearly empty; but some few beds contained patients suffering from typhus fever, and they appeared cleaner and more comfortable than I had expected. The remains of the khans are all placed in two large mausoleums, in huge wooden boxes, at the head of which an ancientlooking fez is elevated on a tall stick. Their names and dates are attached to each on a card, but, being in Russian, we could make nothing of them. The last place we visited was the mosque, being conducted into the khan's gallery, from whence he could look down upon his prostrate subjects. couple of ancient priests and a young man were busily engaged, seated cross-legged in a corner, and reading alternate verses out of some mighty volumes, in a singing, nasal twang, accompanied by swayings of the body from side to side.

A

It was now nearly six o'clock; we were almost four miles from our camp, and the curious old fortress of Dshuffuth-Kaleh, situated on the top of the cliffs about three miles further up the gorge, had yet to be seen so making our mind up at once to a quick walk and a late dinner, we started off up the valley, and in half an hour were clear of the town, its dust and smells, and, guided by a little Tartar lad, followed the road through a wild and picturesque gorge, shut in by tall white limestone cliffs, hollowed here and there into cells and caves. About a mile and a half up the road divided into two, and, taking that to the right hand, we began a somewhat steep ascent. The cliffs are high and perpendicular-in some places, indeed, almost overhanging; and few trees or shrubs break the

savage aspect of the scenery. On the right, a complete monastery, with chapels and cells, adorned with gilded crosses, green-domed buildings, has been established in and at the foot of the cliff. Taking a steep footpath to the left, we arrived at the foot of the cliff, which is here surmounted by the grey old fortress of the Karaim Jews, whence a winding path, cut in the rock, leads by broad steps to one of the gateways. Here narrow streets wound between half-ruined houses, built of large blocks of dry stone, some roofless, others still inhabited by a colony of Jews, who for many centuries before the birth of our Saviour are said to have inhabited this spot, having, on the introduction of the Talmudic doctrine among the Caucasian Jews, remained faithful to their ancient creed, and emigrated to the Crimea.*

Standing on the outer edge of the precipice overhanging the main ravine or pass leading towards Mangoup, the view is wild and romantic, and quite peculiar to the formation of all this district. The cliffs, unlike the peaked, rugged, grey limestone precipices of the southern coast, are smooth, and, except where weather-stained, of a soft white colour. Few trees are visible, the ground being covered by a species of low oak and hornbeam brushwood, interspersed with a prickly plant, called Christ's thorn; the native villages even are different from those on the coast; no villas or chateaux adorn the ravines, and altogether it would be difficult to find anywhere within so small a compass, scenery so totally unlike as that of the southern coast-the steppe near Simpheropol and the district of Dshuffuth-Kaleh and Mangoup. In one of the streets we passed by a venerable Tartar tomb, covered with delicately carved inscriptions, and which was the only Mahomedan monument we saw in the town which we now traversed, passing out by the great southern gateway, in which the massive portals, studded and plated with iron, still exist. The walls of the town appear very ancient, and are, like those at Mangoup, turreted, battlemented, and pierced with loopholes for

arrows. The sun was just dipping over the western slopes, and looking back, the dark battlements of the old fortress stood out bold and sharp against the rosy red which streamed through the narrow loopholes, and poured through the great gateway in a flood of rich light. The cliffs and scanty herbage waned for a moment in the crimson glow, and all again sunk into its accustomed grey. Rejoicing at having visited the old place at such a moment, we began our descent, halting at the burial-ground situated at the head of the ravine, in a grove of low and ancient oak. The tombs are all similar, regularly arranged, and are of all dates, from an ancient venerable grey, covered with moss and lichen, to bright white, fresh from the sculptor's hands, on which the Hebrew characters are sharp and clear.

Rapidly descending the valley, we found ourselves in the town just at nightfall, and hurried along the ill-paved street, in which the lights from the coffee-houses and billiard rooms, and those of a few dim oil lamps, only served to make the darkness more visible. After making one false turn, we emerged from the town and ravine at the same spot where we entered, and recognised our road in the direction of our camp by some large biscuit stacks, beside which a sentry paced to and fro. No moon was up to light us on our path; and to find one's way among a number of camps is a difficult matter, unless one knows the troops which occupy them, and can make inquiries from sentries. On, however, we pushed, knowing that the general direction was correct, and that we must soon reach the stream, beyond which lay our bivouac. Some lights gleamed in front, adding only to the uncertainty, as we knew they must proceed from one of the two Tartar villages, but which of them it was impossible to tell, and it was a matter of no small importance, it being necessary to pass the stream a little below the one and above the other to reach our destination. At length recognising a haystack, we inclined a little towards the light, arrived at the village, and then

1856.]

crossing the stream, pushed up the opposite bank in the direction of the spot where we had left the horses, looking out eagerly for the friendly blaze of our fire. Still we could nowhere see it; and we felt convinced that, had we made the right village, it could not but be hereabouts, and the suspicion flashed across the mind that we had taken the wrong one. This was disagreeable, as we were fatigued and hungry; how ever, as a last chance, on shouting out the servants' names, we had the satisfaction of finding that they were not very far off; and we came upon the fire within two hundred yards, but concealed by a stone wall and dip of ground from where we stood. Dinner was speedily laid out; and immediately after I lay down in the tent, drew a blanket over me, and was soon sound asleep.

Next day we arose with the first grey of morning. Heavy mists. had gathered in the valley beneath us, and the rugged summit of the Tehatir-Dagh was concealed by fleecy clouds. As the morning advanced, a light air sprang up, and clouds and mists were off hurryscurry up the sides of the hills, and rolled away, leaving the air and sky pure and bright. Following their example, we mounted once more, and taking a north-westerly direction, rode over the hills for the bridge and battle-field of the Alma. Passing through a couple of small Tartar villages, over an undulating country without timber, except where a few scanty thorns marked an ancient burial-ground, we arrived at the right flank of the Russian position, and descended to the low, flat bit of ground beside the river above the bridge. While breakfast was preparing and the horses resting, I turned my steps southward, facing the heights so gallantly won by our troops. It was deeply interesting to approach these stones, which I had not visited since the day of battle. How changed were all the circumstances. There was the first low but steep ridge which met our soldiers after they had crossed the flat on the Rus

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sian side of the river, over which they swarmed, regardless of the pelting shower which assailed in front and flank. Mounting this, the terrible battery-stormed and won by the first brigade of the Light Division and brigade of Guards-lay before me, to reach which it was necessary for the troops to cross a long open space of ground, in the teeth of a murderous fire of musketry, cannon-ball, and grape. Further on the left were the heights scaled by the second brigade of the Light Division, and crowned by the Highlanders, under their brave old chief, Sir Colin Campbell. Mounting still upwards I gained this battery, now a shapeless bank of earth, containing the graves of those brave men, who, stern and cold in heart and strong in limb, fell with their face towards the foe, nobly sustaining the ancient fame of their country. Still further on lay the spot where the Russian reserves, advancing in deep columns, were checked by a heavy fire, and at length, torn through and through by round shot and scattered by shell, turned and fled, abandoning arms and knapsacks in their hurried retreat. Up the valley they fled, leaving a bloody track behind them, marked by mangled corpses and poor wretches writhing under frightful wounds. The centre of the position, formed by a valley running down to the bridge at the village of Bourliouk, whose roofless and blackened walls remained a monument of the terrible struggle, lay on our right, at the other side of which were the heights stormed by the daring Zouaves and nimblefooted Chasseurs de Vincennes. Here stood Lord Raglan's marquee; and here, beneath an old fruit-tree in one of the gardens, the body of General Tylden was placed the morning the army began its forward march. Several large mounds, covered with flat stones, in the gardens along the banks of the river, mark the havoc that was here occasioned among our troops; and here it was that the 'Gibraltar' brigade of the Second Division suffered severely.* Scarcely a tree now

stood in this once beautifully wooded valley.

Shortly after eleven o'clock we mounted our horses for the last time before reaching the British camp, and, following a broad track, crossed the Katcha at the ford a little above the church of Eskel, and about two miles above the bridge where the English army crossed on the 23rd September. The bells were ringing in honour of the season; but the pretty village and villas seemed to be deserted, and to be in much the same state as when our troops marched by. From thence we crossed over a country intersected by deep ravines, to the left of the line of march of the English army, and, crossing the Belbec by the bridge, ascended the heights where the advanced divisions had bivouacked, now occupied by the troops forming the garrison of the north side of Sebastopol. The fertile valley of the Belbec was here much changed, almost all the trees having been cut down, and many of the houses totally destroyed, while in the sheltered spots, wooden huts and large tents point out the hospitals which have been here established. The heights on the southern side, which, nearly two years ago, were covered by a thick wood extending to Mackenzie's farm, and through which the Allied armies forced their way by compass at the time they made the flank march which opened to them the ports of Balaklava, Kasatch, and Kamiesch, are now quite bare, but, unlike the hills in and about the English camp, still contain the roots and stumps of the trees and underwood, which in a few more years will spring up as luxuriantly as ever.

It seemed to be a great holiday in the Russian camp, and for the first time I saw men engaged in amusements of various kinds, and looking cheerful and happy. Some had evidently been indulging at the canteens; and, judging by the state of a few English soldiers whom we met returning to their camps, they had probably been playing the host to their late opponents. As we passed over the Inkerman causeway, where our French allies were,

as usual, busily engaged in froghunting, winding along under the Inkerman heights, we met a party of six Russian soldiers, walking along the road from the direc tion of our camps, all engaged in singing, keeping excellent time, and some of them having very good voices. They halted at a gesture from us, and, forming into a semicircle, chanted a long hymn, probably in honour of Easter. Nothing could have been better than the style in which they sung, and the sacred music which flowed spontaneously from their lips had an impressive effect among the hills where three mighty nations lately met in mortal struggle.

Thus ended my six days' tour, during which I passed over about one hundred and seventy-five miles of ground, always riding the same pony, which came in almost as fresh as the day he had started; and had seen all the most beautiful and interesting portions of a country which has acquired a celebrity which time and history will only increase. Future tourists will probably visit the battlefields where their countrymen have gained honour and renown, which are now marked by British soldiers' graves, by the desolate waste that reigns around them, and, in the case of Inkerman and the Redan, by stone monuments raised by the survivors in honour of the brave spirits who in these struggles had quitted the scene of all mortal suffering; but let me advise all who have time and opportunity not to leave the country without making the tour which I fear I have but imperfectly described. In that district he will find enough to occupy his time, be he painter, botanist, antiquary, or geologist. He may perhaps find still more if he visits it simply as an admirer of the wonderful works of God, so marvellously displayed in the ever-varying beauties with which He has adorned this interesting spot; or if he visits it as the scene consecrated in our national annals, by all that the soldiers of Britain have done and suffered.

H. F. V.

1856.]

'MANY

ANY changes have taken place since I was a maiden, hard bound in Elibank Tower; many more may be to the fore, but I tell you, peace, right, wisdom, and slackened reins are settling fast on every grey hill-side and in every hollen glen, when matched with the riding and running, heading and hanging, that my auld een have

seen.

We wot this is the truth. Kings may yet battle with their lords, one clan tussle with another, red blood be spilt on hill, dale, and causeway, but the gay moss-troopers-the rough riders of Tweedside and Teviotdale-are sore broken since Gibbie with the Gowden Garters paid his bride's keep with the spuilie of one harvest moon. A poor man dare not now harry a flock of sheep across the marches, or fancy a mare and her foal, but he must face warrants and king's officers, the Tolbooth and the Grassmarket.

Less ceremony, we wot, when King James betrayed the Cock of the Border. The change is not to be monrned, though doubtless they were our gayest and gallantest hearts, those wild followers of Buccleugh, and Ferniehurst, and Maxwell; it was an uneasy pillow and an ill awakening when a lunt from barn and biggin, with pistol shots and steel flashes, might daunton you any night from Beltane to Yule; and stark want succeed rowth and plenty in the whisk of a single foray.* 'You

ou may have seen many a lordly castle and bonny hidden shaw, but if you have not beheld Elibank, with the grey hills rising round and round, and the siller Tweed rowing by, you know not the lonesomest, lovesomest spot on earth.

You may sit a whole day in your chamber, and see nought but a corbie on the craig, or a cony clappit

*

among the bracken, or a moorcock crowing above the heather. The hills are grey there with every cloud, and rise on both sides high in the lift, with here and there a thornbush or a rowan, until they meet the fringe of the forest, stretching away, with its tawny oaks, and glossy beeches, and its antlered stags, to Newark and Bowhill. The water below is clear as glass or else a reaming flood, and at each end the glen's shut in and the world's shut out. In winter when the scaurs are white, the smoke from the tower rises cheerily in the frosty air. In summer there is the scent of the wild thyme and the heather, and the drone of the humble bee, so still is the glen, and the twitter of the waterwagtails, skimming across the river, eluding the hawks.

'Lady Elibank would sit on the battlements, with her women at her back; and Sir Gideon would ride in and out, booted and spurred, and whiles glancing in his armour; and scores of retainers would muster in the court; and the innocent bairns would wander over bank and brae and plait rushes and chase waterhens the long, long day.

'The tower was like its neighbours on the water, only notable for strength. It had vaults that might have held an army of prisoners, with slits that let through no blessed sunlight where they lay, the guard giving them bread and water, or offering the ill-omened bloody bull's head. Above, was the great arched kitchen, with black rafters, and a chimney as big as our bower. In the court without, the well sank fathoms beneath the tower foundations and I trow they were hard, solid rock-shaded by an oak tree that never minded the stour, but filled the entire corner, as if it had been a lone nook in the forest, and