the Russians, who, after a sanguinary defence, took the fortress. The Turks had held possession of this important place for two centuries and a half. They all emigrated to Asia Minor. The town is said to contain sixteen thousand inhabitants, eight churches, a synagogue of the Jews, and a Mohammedan mosque.

On his return to Tiflis, Baron Haxthausen made an excursion among the Ossetes, a Caucasian tribe, who call themselves Ir, and their country Ironistan. They are nominally Christians, but they offer sacrifices of bread and flesh upon altars in sacred groves. A tradition, well known in connexion with Mount Carmel, is to be met with among these mountaineers, transported to the grove of Lamadon in the Caucasus.

The cave of the prophet Elijah (Asilja-leget), the guardian and patron of the Ossetes, is in this grove. Profound peace reigns around it; the shepherds pasture their flocks in silence, and neither turmoil, strife, nor rapine dare disturb the calm of these holy precincts. Once, says the legend, a holy man was taken prisoner and carried off to a strange country in the west; when an eagle, bearing him aloft over high mountains and broad seas, deposited him here, and he passed the remainder of his life in performing religious service in the cave of Elijah. This service became hereditary in his family. The eldest descendant, dressed in a coat of his own weaving, once a year ascends the sacred rock alone, and having entered the cave, offers up a mystic sacrifice. No one else is permitted to approach: an attempt to climb the rock would be punished with blindness, and instant death would be the penalty for entering the cave. The interior is said to be composed of emerald; in the centre stands an altar of rock, bearing a golden goblet filled with beer. As soon as the priest enters, he receives the gift of prophecy for the ensuing year. If the beer is agitated in the goblet and runs over, there will be peace and an abundant harvest; but if the beer does not move, there will be war and famine. On the following day a great banquet, to which every one in the neighbourhood contributes, is held in the village of Lamadon, and there the priest of Elijah makes known the events of the coming year.

A minute and detailed account of the social habits and manners of these curious people, some account of the Kara-bagh, and of the Yezidis, or Izidis-the devil propitiators-not worshippers-a distinction after all probably without a difference, established by the critical acumen of modern travellers; and an account of the fire-worshippers at the natural fountains of fire near Baku, on the Caspian-the analogies of the fire fountains of Kirkuk-the Babylonian Ecbatana, complete a work which could not be better timed than at the present crisis. Nothing can exceed the avidity with which we looked through its pages for new information regarding the little known, little understood, and still less appreciated races of the Transcaucasian provinces. We feel the deepest interest in the fate of these gallant Christian nations, although from the nature of their country they have been less successful in self-defence than the Muhammadan mountaineers, and we feel assured that Haxthausen's beautifully illustrated work will, at the present conjuncture, command thousands of readers, and will assist materially in making the character and position of these people better known throughout the country at large.

THE TURKISH CAMPAIGN OF 1829.*

THE Baron von Callot, an Austrian officer, possessing birth, fortune, and a considerable share of talent, was, in 1828, a decided Philhellenist. Like many other greater men than himself, he fondly believed in the possible regeneration of Greece, and determined on forming one of the sacred band who proceeded to expel the Turks from Hellas. Circumstances, however, prevented him from carrying out his original design, and he contributed his mite to the war by joining the Russian forces at that time engaged on the Danube. Encouraged by the public craving for everything relative to the seat of war, he has now thrown his experiences into the shape of reminiscences and sketches of travel.

He quitted Cronstadt, in Transylvania, on the 1st of May, 1829, en route to join the Russian army of the left bank of the Danube, viá Wallachia. The difficulties he encountered on the road were sufficient to deter any one but an old campaigner-among them want of food and shelter were the slightest. The whole province was overrun by bands of marauders, who plundered every one who fell into their hands, and laid claim to their gratitude for not murdering them as well. He managed, however, to stow his traps upon a train of heavily-laden baggagewaggons for carriage to Bucharest, and at the same time hired a seat for himself, upon which to rest his wearied limbs. Here, however, he had reckoned without his host: the road, which was carried along for some time on Austrian territory, was so frightfully bad that he really believed the immense holes into which horses and wheels sank every moment, and with which the whole of this soi-disant road was strewn, were traps purposely made by the borderers to prevent any possible inroad from Wallachia, as guns and cavalry could not progress in the face of these natural, or rather artificial, impediments. Every fifty paces a halt was made, and the horses fed, to give them some relaxation from the almost killing exertions in dragging the carts out of the ruts. Tired with watching the progress of the waggons after enduring it for a whole day, our traveller set out before them, only accompanied by his dog, and the following pleasant little adventure befel him:

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It was about three in the morning when my waggoner made his preparations for starting. While he was feeding and harnessing his team, I walked on in front. I had gone about 600 paces, when my dog began barking violently; almost at the same moment five well-armed fellows sprang out of the thicket, one of whom held a long Turkish pistol at my head, and demanded my money. Hang it!" I thought to myself, “not breakfasted, and yet the people come and want money from me.' At the same moment Wachtel seized the fellow by the throat and dragged him to the ground; I guarded off the pistol with the left hand, with my right tore the second pistol from the villain's belt, and fired it at the nearest man, who fell with a loud yell to the ground. I drew my sabre and sprang upon my three other foes, and, while Wachtel seized another by the throat and worried him like he would have done a sheep, I gave the other such a tremendous blow with my trusty sabre that I cut his head open.

All three had fired their muskets at me, but, losing their presence of mind by my quick manoeuvres, they had missed me, although one bullet struck the hilt of my sabre, and a second passed through my cap. As I rushed upon

* Der Orient und Europa. Erinnerungen von Land und Meer. Von Eduard, Freiherrn von Callot. 2 vols. Williams and Norgate.

the third robber, he quickly ran off, after throwing away his musket. I recalled Wachtel, who was close at his heels, as I remembered that it is better to build a golden bridge for a flying enemy, and returned to the field of battle.

There four men lay stretched out on the ground, who but a moment before had been in full possession of their faculties, the victims of a desperate struggle in self-defence. What had I done to these fellows that they strove to take my life? By God, not the slightest injury; but they conjectured I had money, and wished to appropriate it by murder. Quid non mortalia pectora cogis, auri sacra fames!

I was just examining whether there were not some signs of life among the villains, in order to save them, now that I had rendered them harmless, when my waggoner came up. He had heard the shots, but when he perceived that I was master of the field he hurried up to secure the booty. He was just going to examine the pockets of the fallen, when, to his great dissatisfaction, I would not permit it. He tried to raise some objects, but I ordered him to collect all the arms and ammunition of the robbers and throw them into the deepest part of the Praova, but to leave the dead as a meal for the wolves, as we could not prevent it, and many a brave man who died for his honour and his fatherland on the battle-field found no better grave.

After this adventure our author was naturally not sorry when he arrived at Bucharest, where he could console himself for the privations he had endured while traversing the plains of Wallachia. He stopped at the Hôtel Français, in the German street. The apartment he occupied was not peculiarly prepossessing: bare, dirty walls, which in former times might have been white, met his view; a few lame chairs stood in the corners; a broken table, with a partly open drawer, in which pieces of stale bread, fragments of paper, dust, and filth were amicably settled, stood in the centre of the room; and a bed, of which it was impossible to distinguish the colour, was ranged along one side. Our author's first inquiry was for water and clean sheets; but the host, a stout little Frenchman, was not easily disconcerted; he replied that water was very dear, as it was drawn from the filthy stream Dumbovizta, purified with alum, or filtered through sand-stone; for there was not a single well in the whole of Bucharest, except the fountain of Philarete, which was a long distance off; and as for clean sheets, they were articles of luxury which could not be found in the palaces of the richest boyars; and, indeed, the host only spoke the fact, for the author at a later date had opportunity to verify the truth of his remarks.

The town itself is dirty in the extreme, and there are only two streets paved with round pebbles: the other streets are loosely covered with boards, and beneath runs a broad, deep ditch, where murdered men are frequently found: dead animals are also thrown in, and this is the case at times with the bodies of the dead, if the family is poor or miserly. In this case it often occurs that the dead are laid in a state of nudity in the doorway, with a lighted candle and a dish by their side, in order to collect alms from the passers by, as the Pope will not bury any one unless his fees are paid. Is it extraordinary that the plague should rage in this

town?

The population of Bucharest are a rough, treacherous, and thriving set of fellows. The boyars are not much better than the lower classes as regards their general character, but their moral corruption is still greater: they unite Oriental laziness and sensuality with European vice, and, consequently, are far below the Turks. Diseased cattle are universally sold

in long pieces of flesh, called pastram. In the winter, the wolves come into the very heart of the town at night, and our author had a shot at one from his window during his stay. The mode of punishment practised on criminals is terrible.

A tradesman convicted of fraud is fastened by the ear to a high post, and forced to stand on tiptoes. His upper garments are taken off, and he is bedaubed with honey, which collects an immense quantity of wasps, hornets, and flies. In this position he remains from morning till sunset.

The bastinado is inflicted on a large scale: ten to twenty convicted prisoners are laid on the ground side by side, a double cord is then fastened across their knees, through which their feet are thrust in such a manner that the soles are raised to the skies. Then a shower of blows falls, amounting to a thousand for each convict. Once every year, all the prisoners in the Pushkeria, or policestation, are driven in pairs, with naked backs, through all the streets of the town; with the exception of the first pair, all are armed with canes. At the rear walk a couple of officers, who are also provided with rods. The rear men now strike those in front of them with all their strength, till the blood pours down their backs, and this pleasing procession lasts from morning till sunset. This affords a great delight to the boyars, and entire families, ladies and gentlemen, accompany the procession in their carriages for the whole of the day to enjoy the sight. Robbers and assassins have their hands and feet cut off at the joints, and they are then turned loose in the streets, when they crawl about and beg at the corners of the streets.

After a short stay in Bucharest, our author was glad to receive a mes sage from General Kisseleff that he was expected at Giurgevo, and he set off at full speed to join the army, where he was most kindly and hospitably treated. After a short stay here, he was informed by General Kisseleff that the command of a body of Pandours was given him, and he was to join General Schiermann at Turno, a fort on the Danube, opposite the Turkish redoubt of Nicopolis. On his arrival the general ordered out his Pandour corps for his inspection, who were really miserable objects: the author fancied that he had New Zealanders before him: they did not display the least sign of military spirit, of martial temper, or love of their fatherland; but, on the contrary, visible signs of cowardice and attachment to robbery, and the first impression was not deceptive. Their long hair, probably uncombed for years, hung down in masses, floating in the breeze around their ugly, distorted features, which were embrowned and dried by the sun. Their clothing consisted of all sorts of rags, which were the sport of the breeze; many wore old Russian uniforms, which had belonged to all sorts of regiments, but these also hung in fragments around them. Not a single one possessed a cloak, that indispensable article of clothing for a light cavalry soldier. Their shoes consisted of the Opintsh, so general among the Wallachians-a piece of untanned hide, or rags, which extended up to the knees, and were fastened with pieces of tarred rope. The arms of this irregular body of cavalry were in as equally bad a condition as their persons. One carried a long lance made out of a fir pole, and on which an old rusty spike was fastened; another, a long Turkish gun; a third, a cavalry pistol without a lock; a fourth, a Russian sabre, with a broken guard; but the majority were only armed with Yataghans and Turkish pistols. All the arms were in such a dilapidated and useless condition, that the best thing to have done with them would have been to collect them in a heap and burn them.

The Russian soldiers in Turno, who could not be quartered in houses

built barracks of strong wicker-work, in which doors and windows were made. All the troops were divided into companies with the same regularity as if they had been in barracks. The beds were composed of straw, and the soldiers' cloaks were the blankets. The Russians possess extraordinary skill in building huts of this sort, and they are always used when they encamp for any length of time. Even General Kisseleff resided in one of them, which was excessively comfortable. Round the walls posts are driven into the ground, on which benches are placed, and tables are made in the middle of the hut in the same manner, as well as bedsteads.

The Turks had been forced to surrender Turno to the Russians, in consequence of nearly 500 of their troops having died from sickness and wounds these had been buried after the Mussulman fashion, just under the surface of the ground, and on any violent shower the bodies were uncovered, and the stench poisoned the atmosphere. There was besides only one well in the fortress, and this want of water and the unhealthy atmosphere had a most ruinous effect on the health of the Russians. All were attacked by the Danube fever, our author among the number. The countless gnats also, which utterly prevented sleep, did their part in producing illness. The following is the description of the Russian troops given by the baron:

The meals of the Russian soldiers are prepared by companies, in an immense kettle, generally in the open air. Into it are thrown some meat, quass, salt, and kasha, or husked barley, and this thick soup does not look at all bad. In the same manner, one immense loaf of bread is baked daily for each company this bread is rather less black than the Austrian ammunition bread, but considerably pleasanter, and contains a large amount of nutritious matter. Three times, weekly, each soldier receives about three-quarters of a pint of excellent brandy, but he must swallow his allowance at once, through fear that he may save a portion, in order to have more opportunities for intoxication, for this is the highest enjoyment he knows, and causes him to forget his sorrows. He must serve twenty-five years, and frequently, when beginning to grow old and having a wife and family, he is obliged to enlist. For instance, he is born in Irkutsk, and is sent to join a regiment stationed in Wallachia or the Crimea, there is then little hope that he will ever again see his family; and, indeed, they take a last farewell of him on his departure. But he possesses one consolation, a sweet expectation; for he believes that, if he die in the field of battle, he will be born again in his own home: hence he despises death, and firmly holds his ground in the most terrible shower of bullets.

The soldiers are hungry every hour of the day, and if they reach a field where cucumbers, water-melons, or gourds are growing, these are devoured, hask and all, without being washed: if the poor fellow has a pinch of salt or a drought of spirits, he would not exchange places with a prince. These fellows are like children; they must be guided; but they obey gladly and willingly. They receive every four months three paper roubles as pay, which are sufficient for the purchase of chalk, pipeclay, and other regimental requirements. The officers' very moderate pay is also given them every four months, and is then staked at faro or lansquenet, on a cloak in the tent: the winner always regales the others with champagne. But the majority of the officers possess private fortunes, and are never sparing of their money. A captain of cavalry receives in peace 650 paper roubles; but in time of war this sum in silver or gold, which is worth four times the value. Hence they are always delighted when a war breaks out. When an officer dies or is killed, his arrears of pay revert to government, as well as provisions and forage not drawn in proper time. The accoutrements and arms of the soldiers are excellent. The colonel of the regiment makes the contracts with the manufacturers. Shoes