illustrated with diagrams as elaborate as if destined to be the forerunners of a German invasion; while the distances from point to point, the quantity of water and forage, the character of the country and its inhabitants -even the appearance and approximate population of the towns are all noted down with that marvellous accuracy of detail, and attention to seeming trifles, which has made Germany the first military Power of the world.

By the time we reach our third tumbler of tea, my host has already begun to launch out upon the campaign, and gives me some details well worth listening

to.

"We of the Mangishlak column didn't fare so badly as some of the others; but we had no holiday of it, for all that. One or two of the marches from well to well were very long; and the water, when we did get it, was black as ink. Then the weather was rather trying, too -45 degrees of Reaumur during the day, and the night as chill and damp as a marsh. However, curiously enough, we had very few sick on the way."

"Did you get to Khiva in time for the assault?"

"O dear yes! saw it all from beginning to end. We bombarded the place for two days, and the Khan (as we afterwards found out) was for giving in at once; but the war-party stood out and wouldn't let him. However, by the second evening, it began to get too hot for them. Twice over during the night they ceased firing and made a pretence of surrender; but the minute we stopped our fire, and came forward to occupy the town,

they began again. So at last it was decided to carry one of the towers by assault, and that settled the business; but when we burst in, we found hardly any of the leaders there. Most of them had run off into the steppe, carrying the Khan along with them; and when we entered his palace the morning after the storm, we found even the seraglio empty-the ladies must have escaped by some underground passage. Here, you see, is the great court of the palace—a very fine place in its way."

"Did you lose many men in the assault?"

"I believe one hundred and seven; but not many killed-mostly mere flesh wounds. Verevkin was one of the worst; a fellow let fly at him from the top of the wall, as he was reconnoitring, and hit him clean through the cheek-his face is a rare sight with it, poor fellow! As for me, I havn't got a scratch."

Having gratified my curiosity, the Lieutenant begins to exercise his own, and questions me closely respecting my object in being here, and my plans for the future. I tell him as much of the story as it is safe to tell on this side of the Ural (suppressing, of course, the fact of my being an English correspondent) and he at once proceeds to give me some good counsel.

"The steamer goes back to Kungrad in two or three days, you know, and your only chance is to get leave to go with her. I'd advise you to try Verevkin; his quarters are just on the other side of the garden yonder, and anybody will show you the way."

I pull out my watch, and find that there is no time

to be lost. It is already close upon eight o'clock, and the General, wounded as he is, and just arrived from a journey, is not likely to sit up very late. I start forthwith, guided by Onesimus the ostler; and a few minutes' walking brings us to a large, well-appointed house (proverbially the best in the town) belonging to a noted resident trader. I send in my card-one of the few relics of civilization still left me-by a big loose-jointed Cossack who is lounging at the door; and am presently ushered along a creaking verandah into a small but very comfortable room, by far the most respectable which I have yet seen in Kazalinsk.

Here I find half-a-dozen officers (one of whom, a very handsome young fellow, has his arm in a sling) grouped round the inevitable tea-urn. The circle opens as I enter, disclosing in its midst a short, square, powerfully-built man, whose firm soldierly face is half-buried in a huge bandage, covering the spot where the Khivan bullet tore through his cheek a month ago. This is General Verevkin himself, one of the best Asiatic soldiers whom Russia has yet produced, and beyond all question the real hero of the Khiva Expedition. To him, accordingly, I report myself; but a man who has had one side of his face shot through can hardly be expected to feel very benevolent; and the General, in his trenchant military style, makes very short work of me and my errand.

"Can't do it just going home-don't know youtry the Commodore."

So ends our interview; and there is nothing for it but

K

to trudge back again to Stumm, and report want of progress.

"Well, there's still one chance left," says the friendly Lieutenant, indefatigable in his zeal for my cause. "Go to the Grand Duke (he's in the fortress, at the Commandant's quarters), and ask him to say a word for you to the Commodore of the flotilla. He's a very good fellow, and will be glad to help you, I'm sure."

Off I go accordingly, while my Tartar (who has by this time got scent of the efforts making for his and my own liberation) looks after me with wistful eyes. The Commandant's quarters are close to the Commodore's, in the centre of the fortress, barely five minutes' walk from Morozoff's; but to get there is no easy matter. At every turn I hear "a sound of revelry by night," and encounter a long line of drunken soldiers, hand in hand with still more drunken sailors, straggling across the whole breadth of the road, and roaring at the top of their voices a maniacal chorus without tune, sense, beginning, or end, and whose sole object seems to be to make as much noise as possible.

Not without careful piloting do I at length reach the Commandant's door, and find, of course, that the Grand Duke is not there, being at dinner with the Commodore. However, a polite message comes back in answer to my card, to the effect that he will be happy to see me in half an hour. I seat myself in the Commandant's "outer room "-a huge bare-looking place ike a deserted warehouse-and prepare to "bide my time;" but before ten minutes are over, a quick

step comes through the porch, and in the doorway appear the tall slight figure and smooth boyish face of the Grand Duke, who has left his party to come to me. I have heard many things said against him, of which I know nothing; this much I do know, that his reception of me, an utter stranger, without recommendations of any kind, and detained by his own people under circumstances of strong suspicion-is kindness itself.

I need not quote our conversation, which turns chiefly upon the campaign, and more especially the march of the Tchikishliar column, of which he has heard nothing till now, having accompanied that of Kazalinsk. The details which I have gathered from M-seem to interest him greatly; and in return he gives me some experiences of his own which are well worth hearing.

"I'm much obliged to you for coming to me," are his last words; "and I shall be most happy to give you any help I can. Perhaps the best way will be for me to speak to the Commodore about you to-night, and for you to call upon him to-morrow morning, and ask what time the steamer is to sail."

And, with a hearty shake of the hand, he is gone.

The next morning, as arranged, I call upon the Commodore, and am shown into a small cabinet littered with papers, in the midst of which sits a stout thickset man of middle age, across whose bald crown runs a long dark-red scar, showing that he too has "looked in the face of the Khan." He receives me very kindly,