solitary farm house, at which our fugitives stopped, the poor people
received them kindly, though they appeared to be in hourly alarm, from
the fierce bands of robbers who were scouring the country in every
direction, levying their lawless contributions alike on the peaceable
villagers, and the unprotected travellers, and not unfrequently adding
murder to robbery.

The paths traversed by Ivan and his companions scarcely deserved the
name of roads, though the light low cart Javis had procured, carried
them safely and quickly over them.  Several rivers and streams
interrupted their course.  Some of the latter were nearly dry, and the
first they passed in boats, with small parties of gipsies, whom they
fell in with, and who accompanied them on purpose.  As they approached
the broad Danube, they proceeded on foot across the country, by paths
scarcely trodden, except by their wandering guides.  It was with
considerable difficulty they gained the river, passing over a long
distance of low marshy shore, which here forms its banks, and rousing
from their rest the pelican and other wild fowl of this desert region.

On a calm and lovely night, they crossed the rapid, but smooth stream,
in a boat, pulled by their friends, the Tzygani; and, in about an hour,
landed in the Turkish province of Bulgaria.  The spot at which they
struck the Danube was considerably above the Walachian town of Galatz,
near the Turkish Hirsova, situated on the summit of precipitous rocks
close to the river.  They did not venture to enter that now ruinous
place, as most of the Turkish towns taken by the Russians in the late
war, were still held by their troops.

The direct road of the travellers now lay along the southern bank of the
Danube for a considerable distance, to Silistria, a wretched town with a
fort, also destroyed by the Russians, who yet retained a garrison there.
They therefore avoided it, keeping across the country to the left of
the road.

The hamlets, through which they passed, consisted of about fifty houses,
each formed of wicker work plastered over, and kept neat and clean
within.  The men were clad in brown sheepskin caps, jackets of undyed
brown wool, white cloth trowsers, and sandals of raw leather; while the
women, who appeared without hesitation before the strangers, were
handsome and neatly dressed, all wearing trinkets, the girls having
their heads uncovered, and their hair braided and ornamented with
different coins.

Most of the villages were inhabited by Turks, except the first at which
they arrived.  Here our fugitives were fortunate in finding that the
greater number of the simple and industrious people were Christians, by
whom they were kindly and hospitably received.  The villagers seemed to
vie with each other in shewing them attention, insisting on their
resting, and taking such refreshment as they could produce, so that in a
short time they were again ready to proceed on their road.

They here again laid aside the Gipsy dress and appearance, and assumed a
costume more approaching the European, and which would procure them more
respect than they could expect to receive in the other.  They also
obtained horses to finish the journey across the Bulgarian Mountains,
which form part of the great Haemus chain, to Varna, the port of their
destination, expecting there to find some vessel by which they could
reach any other Turkish port in communication with Circassia.

Note.  The above lines have been set to music by Miss L. Kingston, and
published by D'Almaine and Co.

Volume 2, Chapter II.

Notwithstanding the heat of the noontide sun, which shone forth with the
unobscured splendour of a southern clime, our hero and his two
followers, who had been travelling since the early morn, still kept the
road, eager to reach the coast they were now approaching.

Mountain after mountain, hill after hill, had been left behind, which at
a distance had appeared so steep and lofty as to be almost
insurmountable.  Thus, in the ordinary affairs of life, difficulties
which threaten to impede our progress when viewed in long perspective,
and from which the faint-hearted turn back in despair, when fairly
encountered and grappled with, may often be overcome with half the
labour and pain we contemplated.

They had just gained the brow of a lofty hill, up which they had been
toiling, when a long and glittering line of silvery brightness met their
view.

"The sea! the sea!" exclaimed Ivan, as for a moment the party reined in
their steeds, to gaze with interest and curiosity on that longed for
sign of the near accomplishment of their weary journey.  "Onward, my
friends, onward!" he added, setting spurs to his horse, impatient to
reach that liquid road which now alone separated him from his country.

As they rode quickly on, by degrees the line grew broader and broader,
till a wide expanse of sea lay before them, heaving in gentle
undulations, and shining like a sheet of polished silver.

Here and there, the tiny white sail of some light caique seemed like a
sea bird floating calmly on the waters, and farther off, the loftier
sails of larger vessels, seen through the haze caused by the heat,
resembled thin and shifting pillars of white smoke.  All nature seemed
to slumber.  Not a human being, nor a dumb animal was to be seen abroad.
The sails suspended in festoons from the yards of the few vessels
floating in the bay, hung down without moving, nor were the crews
stirring.  Not a boat was visible.  All were taking their rest, till the
great heat of the day should have passed.

As the travellers entered the small sea port of Varna, the streets also
were dull, and deserted; and it was only when they reached the
neighbourhood of the few cafenehs, of which the place boasted, that some
signs of life were perceived; and, even here, few of the inmates had as
yet roused themselves from their mid-day sleep.  At the barber's shop
also, the loquacious and vivacious operator might be seen just awaking
from his slumbers, to welcome his customers, as, one by one, they lazily
strolled to his door, either to submit their heads to his care, or to
converse with his friends, or with any strangers who could supply the
place of newspapers.

Our travellers first proceeded to the caravanserai, to which they had
been directed, to leave their horses to be returned to their owners; and
they then repaired to the principal cafeneh, to refresh themselves with
food and rest.

As they entered, a few of the occupants roused themselves to gaze at the
strangers; and in a short time, the coffee-house was again filled with
guests.  Some, forming knots, filled their chibouques, and as they
smoked the fragrant weed, discussed various subjects in a grave and
solemn tone.  Here a group of listeners formed a circle round one of
those story tellers, to be found in every Turkish coffee-house, intently
hearing the wonderful tales he narrated, and expressing their
satisfaction by low exclamations of applause.

Ivan and his companions had not been long seated, when a smoking dish of
pilau and other Turkish dainties were placed before them.

While he and his friends were discussing their meal, a party of men had
clustered near them; the sound of whose language, as he listened to
their voices, made his heart beat with feelings of the most intense
interest and delight.  He drew in his breath with eagerness as he
listened attentively.  He could not be mistaken, they spoke in that
language heard by him before, only from the mouth of one ardently
loved--his mother.  Those sounds struck a new chord in his feelings.  It
was his own native tongue.  What a tumult of sensations did the words,
simple as they were, raise in his bosom!  He gasped, in his anxiety not
to lose a syllable of the words which fell from the mouths of his
newly-found countrymen.  He could not remain quiet.  He rose, and
approached them.  He could not withdraw his eyes from them, as he
scanned the countenances of each to read their different characters.  He
longed to address them, but hung back hesitatingly, in fear of not
finding suitable expressions.  He understood all they said, and their
conversation had become deeply interesting to him; but as he attempted
to speak, his lips refused to give utterance to what he sought to say.

He returned to his seat in despair, but soon again arose, determining to
address them.  Words now flowed rapidly from his mouth.  The Circassians
started, as they first heard one dressed in the Frank costume, speaking
their own language; but a smile of satisfaction lighted up their
countenances as he continued.  He told them that he was a Circassian,
that he sought to reach his native land, in which all his hopes were
centered--that he had long lived away from it, and knew not even its
customs--that he had undergone many dangers and difficulties in
approaching to that point--but that he had not further means to
accomplish his purpose.

As he finished speaking, a rough weather-beaten man in the Turkish dress
started up, exclaiming: "The way to get there is clear before you; for
my vessel now rides in the bay, waiting only for a fair wind, or any
wind at all, to sail direct for the coast.  This good company is going
with me, and by Allah! we will reach it safely, or never trust the Reis
Mustapha, in spite of all the Russian fleets that may beset our course.
May the Evil One possess them, and their mother's sons!"

Having thus delivered himself of his unusually long oration, he sat
down; and a tall and venerable man, who appeared to be the chief of the
party, rose to confirm his words.

"Whoever you may be, young stranger, who, though with a Frankish dress
and appearance speak our language, and are as you say of our country,
you shall be welcome to join our party; and if, with good intentions,
you visit the land of the Atteghei, I will protect you from all dangers
which may beset you, to the utmost of my power."

The speaker was dressed in the Circassian costume.  He bore on his head
a white turban.  His long beard descended to his breast.  He wore a
flowing caftan of silk; and at his girdle, a cama or dagger, with a
broad two-edged blade, and an ivory handle.  His features were handsome,
and his eyes sparkled with the fire and animation of youth as he spoke.

Ivan's heart bounded with joy and gratitude at his words; for one of the
last, the greatest difficulties in the accomplishment of his
undertaking, was overcome.

"Willingly do I embrace your valued offer," he said; "and I trust to be
able to prove to you and all my countrymen that I go to Circassia for
the purpose alone of aiding her cause.  As yet, I am a man without a
name, and without friends: but the time may come when I shall find both,
and be able to show my gratitude for your generosity.  Till then you
must be content to remain in ignorance of my previous history.  My first
endeavour shall be, to gain a noble name by gallant deeds, and thus
prove myself worthy of the race from whence I sprung.  I will then seek
a brave and honoured sire, who may not blush to own his son.  Till I
have accomplished my purpose, I have sworn to conceal my name from all.
Know me, then, alone as `The Stranger.'  I bring with me but my own
willing arm, and two faithful followers."

"It is enough," replied the old man who had before spoken.  "Nor has
Hadji Guz Beg lived so few years in the world that he cannot read the
countenances of men.  To your's, young stranger, I can fully trust.  In
it I can read truth and courage.  Say no more.  I seek not to pry into
your motives or private history.  I have confidence in the one, and sure
I am there is no disgrace in the other.  You shall join us."

"I confidently put myself into your power," said Ivan.  "You will thus
be able to test my truth.  For that of my followers I will be
answerable."

Javis and young Conrin were now invited to join the party, with whom the
former, in his usual manner, soon made himself acquainted.

It was arranged that, at dawn of the next morning, the Turkish Reis
Mustapha should return to the cafeneh, to conduct Ivan and his followers
aboard his vessel, when, if the wind proved favourable, they were to set
sail immediately.  Ivan was surprised at his good fortune in finding a
vessel at Varna, bound for the Circassian coast, as he fully expected to
be obliged to touch at several Turkish ports before he was successful in
his search; but it proved that she had been driven, on her passage from
the Bosphorus, by a violent gale of wind, thus far to the north, when
she had been obliged to anchor to save herself from going ashore.  A
calm had succeeded the gale, which, most fortunately for Ivan, had
detained her there for several days.

The principal person among the passengers was the Hadji Guz Beg, a
celebrated Circassian leader, now returning from a pilgrimage which he
had undertaken to Mecca, during a short interval of peace, which the
Russians had, for their own sakes, afforded his country.  He spoke much
of the lands he had visited, and the adventures he had encountered,
particularly of a visit he had paid to Mahomet Ali in Egypt, when his
brother hero received him with affection and respect, urging him to
remain some time with him.  But news of the war in the Caucasus having
been renewed had caused him to hurry back to partake in its dangers and
excitement.  None could look at the old warrior Hadji, without believing
that he was possessed of the most indomitable spirit and heroic bravery.
As we pursue our history, we shall have much more to say of him.

The party soon separated, to make the final preparations for their
voyage.  The indefatigable Javis set out to purchase dresses and other
necessaries, nearly exhausting the remainder of their money.  Ivan had
determined to make his appearance on the Circassian shores in his native
costume, throwing aside for ever all marks and remembrances of Russian
thraldom.  Conrin wished, also, to adopt the same style of dress, to
which his master willingly needed: while Javis, who claimed no nation as
his own, preferred the Turkish habit, as being suited to the language he
spoke.

Javis returned late in the evening, bringing with him a sword of highly
tempered Damascus steel, which he had obtained with great difficulty; a
rifle and dagger for Ivan, and a brace of pistols for himself.  He had
procured, moreover, a handsome Circassian coat of dark cloth trimmed
with silver, and a red cap, trimmed with fur, with other parts of the
dress for his master, and a light-coloured tunic and vest, with a cloak
for the page, for whom he also brought a sharp silver-mounted dagger and
pistols.

It would be difficult to describe the feelings of satisfaction with
which Ivan assumed the garb of his ancestors.  In imagination, he
fancied himself at the head of a faithful band of his tribe--if in
reality he could claim the rank of leader--ready to rush down on the
invaders of his paternal shores; he grasped his sword, gazing on it with
a stern and determined eye, and internally vowing never to sheathe it,
until they had been driven from the land, or to perish with it bravely
in his hand.  As he drew himself up to his full height, with eye
dilated, thoughts abstracted from all present scenes, he looked in truth
already the gallant and brave warrior he fancied himself.

So regardless was he of all around him, that he did not observe the
glance with which his youthful follower, who had silently and unobserved
entered the apartment, regarded him.  The boy stood rivetted to the
ground as he first caught sight of his master in his new costume; and
had Ivan wished to know what effect he was likely to produce on others,
he might have looked into the countenance of his page, when his vanity
would have been fully satisfied.

Neither spoke for some time; but when Ivan at last perceived the youth,
"Ah!  Conrin," he cried, "are you come to welcome your master in the
free garb of the mountains?  Rejoice with me, that I no longer feel
myself a slave and an alien in a land of tyranny; henceforward you will
follow the fortunes of one determined to rise above the frowns of fate.
Are you still resolved, boy, to share all the dangers and hardships I
must encounter, to receive alone the slender reward I may be able to
offer?  Will you now quit me?"

"Oh, speak not thus, Sir," replied the boy; "where you go I will
willingly follow, through all dangers, all hardships, even to death:
that I may be only near you, to warn you of any threatened harm I may
discover, is the utmost reward I seek for my poor services.  To nurse
you when wounded, to cheer your couch when you might be left to the
heartless care of strangers, will be my anxious task.  To accompany you
on your excursions--to follow you to the field--to fight by your side--
to shield your life, will be my greatest happiness."

Carried away by his feelings, the boy clasped his hands with energy as
he spoke; but in a moment he stopped in confusion, as if he had
expressed more than he had intended.

Ivan looked at him with astonishment.  "You are indeed a noble, gallant
youth," said he, "though you claim not high birth or descent; I am happy
in finding so faithful and true a friend.  I could not, if I wished it
now, send you back to your country, and much it would grieve my heart to
part from you; but I will protect you while I live and have an arm to
wield my sword.  Wherever I go, you shall accompany me; but I fear that
you will be exposed to many perils in my sendee; for, believe me, the
enemies of my country will not be driven from their attempt, without a
fierce and desperate struggle; and it may yet be many years before they
are free."

"Oh, Sir, you know not the happiness your words cause in my breast,"
answered Conrin.  "With you I shall laugh at all dangers and
difficulties, and fear nothing that can happen to me."

"I know your regard, my good boy.  Now, leave me to myself.  I would be
alone, to meditate on my undertaking.  A few days more will carry us to
those shores whence I wish never to return."

As the page withdrew, he cast a glance of affection at his master, and
Ivan sunk again into the train of thought from which he had been
aroused.

At length he rose, and wandered forth by himself, not feeling inclined
for the company even of his faithful attendants.  He climbed to the
summit of the half ruined citadel of the town, and looked forth
anxiously on the broad expanse of ocean which lay calm and unruffled at
his feet, longing eagerly for a breeze, to fill the sails of the bark
which was to carry him and his fortunes to death or victory.  But not a
breath fanned his cheeks as he waited, long watching, till he saw the
sun descend over the land of his destination, in a broad flame of glory,
tinging the whole sea with a yellow glow.

On every side, the fortifications were in a state of ruin and
dilapidation, owing to the severe and protracted siege the town had
sustained from the Russians, till it was traitorously delivered into
their hands by that execrable monster, Usef Pacha.  [Vide Spenser.]

Rousing himself, he returned to the cafeneh, where he found young Conrin
anxiously awaiting his arrival.  The boy looked sad and melancholy, till
he saw his master's countenance wearing a more serene expression than
before, when his features were lit up with pleasure, and he followed him
into the house, where they found the Hadji, the captain of the zebeque,
and the rest of his passengers.

The Hadji, on first glancing towards Ivan, as he entered in his national
costume, scarcely knew him, but no sooner did he recognise him, than he
rushed forward with outstretched arms to embrace him.

"Ah, my son," he cried, "I now recognise in you a true scion of the
noble race of the _Atteghei_; [the name the Circassians call themselves]
and welcome shall you be to join, with your youthful arm, in our
struggle for independence.  Bismillah! with a few hundred such youths as
you at my back, I would take every cursed Russian fort on our coast, may
the Evil One possess them!  You, perchance, have no father; I will be to
you as one, and you shall be to me as a son.  I will protect you from
all who shall dare to oppose you, so fear not."

"I would wish for no more valiant protector, noble Hadji," replied Ivan,
"and gladly, in all things, will I follow your advice, and profit by
your experience.  Under your guidance, I trust soon to gain that renown
after which I thirst, and to shew myself no unworthy child of the
Atteghei."

"You speak well, young man," replied the Hadji; "I have grown too old
not to boast a little; and you need have no fear of not gaining credit
under my standard.  Bismillah! the fana Moscov well know the sight of
it.  I will shew you what fighting is in a few days, with the blessing
of Allah!"

With such like conversation, the time passed, till all the party sought
repose.

At the first streak of dawn, Ivan started up from the carpet on which he
had passed the night, at one end of the divan, summoning Javis and his
page, who came the moment he heard his master's voice.  The Hadji, and
the rest of the party quickly followed his example, and were met at the
door of the cafeneh by the Reis, who came in haste to inform them that a
breeze, light, though favourable for their voyage, had sprung up.

They rowed off into the bay, where the light zebeque lay at anchor, with
her sails loosened, and were quickly on board.  The anchor was tripped,
her head gradually paid off from the wind, and calmly and slowly she
glided from the shores of Turkey.

Far in the distance appeared the blue and indistinct ridges of the
Balcan mountains; before them, the quiet sea; while around passed many
of the primitive looking fishing boats, and small coasting vessels,
skimming over the waters, their crews habited in picturesque dresses,
and gaudy-coloured turbans.  No sooner were they under weigh, than the
devout Mahometans of the party knelt for the performance of morning
prayer, while Ivan, following their example, offered up his thanks to
Heaven for his escape from so many and imminent dangers.

Volume 2, Chapter III.

For several days did the light zebeque, which bore our hero and his
fortunes towards his native land, glide calmly and securely over the
unruffled surface of the blue and shining waters, without encountering
any of those violent, but short lived, tempests for which the Euxine is
so noted; or, what was still more to be dreaded by the voyagers, without
meeting any of the Russian cruisers.  All on board were congratulating
themselves on the calmness of the sea, and the favourable weather, which
seemed to promise a prosperous termination to their voyage, when they
were doomed to experience how uncertain and changeable are all things
here below.

The wind, which had hitherto blown gently in their favour, now
treacherously shifted round to the north-east, while dark lowering
clouds appeared in the horizon ahead.  The breeze came at first in
fitful and strong gusts, so suddenly commencing, that it scarcely
allowed time to the slow-moving Turkish seamen to take in their canvass,
ere the light vessel heeled over to the strength of the blast, but as
they clewed up the sails she again righted.

"Allah be praised!" exclaimed the sturdy captain of the zebeque, running
here and there, encouraging and assisting the people in their exertions
to shorten sail; "we shall yet weather such a summer storm as this.
Bosh! this is nothing.  Now, my brothers, my dear brothers, work with a
good will, and by the blessings of the Prophet, no harm will happen to
us.  Keep her well before it, Osman," turning to the man at the helm.
"We must run before it for a time till the wind moderates, since she
will not look up to it.  Square the yards, my men," as the people
descended on deck, having close-reefed the lower sail, and taken in the
upper ones.  "Well done, good brothers, Allah is merciful, and we may
laugh at the storm."

With such like exclamations of encouragement, the Reis cheered the men's
spirits, instead of swearing at and abusing them, as the commanders of
vessels of more civilised nations are apt to do.

As the vessel's head turned from the gale, she ran quickly before it,
bounding over the low, but froth-covered, hissing and sparkling waves
which the squall had raised.  The breeze quickly abated, and her head
being again brought to the wind in nearly her right course, she dashed
bravely through the water, the spray breaking over her bows in showers,
sparkling with the hues of the rainbow, and sorely disconcerting her
passengers.

To our hero, who had never been before on the surface of the ocean, the
scene was novel and highly exciting.  The waters, so lately smiling in
calm and unruffled beauty, were now crested with a white glistening
foam; the waves madly danced and sported in confused ridges; the dark
clouds chased each other across the sky, and quickly disappeared to
leave it blue and clear.  From the looks of his seafaring companions, he
could have seen that no danger was to be apprehended, had he not been
too much occupied with the contemplation of the sudden, and to him,
extraordinary change which the face of nature had undergone, to think
even for a moment of peril or mishap.

The youthful page, standing near his master, kept his eye fixed on his
countenance, giving an eager and an inquiring glance; but, reading in
his tranquil looks that there was nothing to fear, he seemed perfectly
satisfied.  Javis, who, in his wandering life, had passed over many
leagues of sea, saw there was no danger to dread in this summer squall,
and with his usual activity was giving his assistance to the sailors.
He had already become a great favourite with all the crew and
passengers; and even the dignified but kind-hearted Hadji regarded him
with an eye of favour, as one faithful to the friend to whom he
considered himself as protector.  Young Conrin alone kept aloof from the
crew in solitude and silence, except when answering a few low words to
Javis's attentive inquiries, or when Ivan addressed him.  His
countenance would then light up with pleasure and animation, as he
poured out his soul in expressions of admiration at the vast changing
scene of waters, seeming alike, and yet so different and variable.

As the sun sank down beneath the waves, a vast, glowing ball of fire,
seeming to throw a liquid flame over the sky to the very zenith,
reflecting its burning hue on the dancing waters; the wind fell as
suddenly as it had arisen; but in its stead a dense fog came on, so that
by the time the shades of night had cast their gloom over the sea, it
was scarcely possible to distinguish any object beyond the head of the
vessel.  Nevertheless, with a firm confidence in destiny, the Reis kept
the zebeque on her course, trusting that she would not be run down by
any larger craft in the dark, or meet with any other accident, and
throwing himself on his mat spread on the deck, waited for daylight, in
the hope of seeing by that time the Circassian coast, to which he
calculated they were drawing near.

The night passed tranquilly; but it was yet scarcely daylight when the
breeze, again freshening, partly dissipated the fog, blowing slight
openings in some places, and in others wreathing it into thick columns,
when the man at the mast-head sung out that he saw a large and towering
sail on the weather bow, close aboard them.  As he gave the alarm on
deck, the Reis sprung from his mat and rushed to the helm.  The lookout
man indicated the direction of the stranger, who evidently did not yet
see them, concealed as their low sails were by the fog.  Nothing
daunted, the sturdy captain put the helm up, ordering the yards to be
squared, and keeping the vessel's head before the wind, hoping thereby
to escape the vigilance of their much-dreaded foe, for there was not the
slightest doubt the stranger must be a Russian, it being improbable that
one of any other nation should be found in those waters.

For some anxious minutes it appeared that this manoeuvre had succeeded;
and calling on Allah and his holy prophet to succour them, he prayed
that the fog, again becoming dense, would favour their escape; but it
was a narrow chance.  Should the breeze freshen a little more, it might
in a moment blow aside the thin veil which shrouded them, and expose
them to their remorseless enemies.

Ivan, the Hadji, and the rest of the passengers, had assembled on deck,
and on being informed of the threatened danger, the former, to whom it
was the most critical, nerved himself to meet it with fortitude.  To
fall into the hands of the Russians, by whom he would probably be soon
recognised, would be utter destruction, perpetual slavery or death.

The Hadji, forgetful partly of his newly assumed sacred character, drew
his sword with one hand, while he commenced telling his beads with the
other; and, addressing himself to prayers for their safety, at intervals
he hurled abusive epithets at the foe, and uttered words of
encouragement to his companions.  The rest of the landsmen followed the
more pious part of his example, except Ivan's two followers, who stood
by their master's side, looking as if determined to sell their lives
dearly, ere they would permit him to be captured by their hated enemies.
The crew, much to their credit, kept at their posts, ready to obey any
of the orders the Captain might find it necessary to give, in altering
their course, or in taking in or making sail.

As much canvass had already been spread on the lower yards of the vessel
as she could bear, the Reis being fearful of setting any more aloft, in
case of thus exposing her to the sight of the enemy.  The man from the
mast-head gave the welcome intelligence, that the Russian ship was no
where to be seen; but scarcely a minute had elapsed, when another
violent and sudden squall struck the zebeque, almost splitting her
sails, but, fortunately being before the wind, she scudded on still
quicker from the danger.

The hopes of all on board, at this chance of escape, were raised high,
only to be as quickly and grievously disappointed; for at the same
instant, the blast which had struck them cleared away the fog, and
discovered a large Russian corvette, at some distance fortunately, and
heeling over on her beam ends to the violence of the squall, it having
caught her it appeared unawares, her people being busily employed in
taking in her more lofty sails.

It was a moment of deep suspense to all on board the Turkish vessel; but
a cry of despair arose from her crew, as they saw with their glasses the
crew of the corvette descending from her rigging, the sails yet
unfurled, the yards being squared as her head came quickly round in the
direction they were sailing.  Onward she proudly came, ploughing with
her bow the now fast rising sea, all her sails swelling, as if they
would burst from the ropes which confined them.  It seemed that no power
could stop her course, as throwing the foaming waters aside, she spurned
the waves on which she rode.

Many a cheek on board the Turk was blanched with anticipations of the
worst, and many a heart trembled which had scarce before felt fear, as
the crew looked on their overwhelming pursuer, now rapidly shortening
her distance from them.  Even on the sturdy Captain's brow large drops
of perspiration stood, as he grasped more firmly the helm, casting many
an anxious, but momentary, glance behind him, and then again at his
sails and masts to see that they stood the gale; for he knew that his
vessel's best point of sailing was before the wind, drawing as she did,
so little water, and scarcely seeming to touch the waves as she bounded
along before them.  Dark and thick masses of clouds rose rapidly behind
the enemy, causing her sails to appear of snowy whiteness, and making
her seem still more alarmingly near than she really was.  As yet,
however, for fear of stopping her way, she had not fired her guns, being
perfectly certain of quickly catching her tiny chase.

The turmoil of the foaming waves, now lashed into ungovernable fury,
increased each moment, while the thick heavy clouds, clashing in their
hurried and disordered race, sent forth reiterated peels of thunder, and
vivid and sharp flashes of forked lightning darted through the air.  The
rising sun had for a moment shed forth his beams on the scene of tumult,
casting a bright glittering light on the madly leaping waves; but as if
angry at the wild uproar, again concealed his glory behind the clouds,
leaving a deep gloom on the disturbed waters.

The huge billows rolled along side of the little bark; and, following up
astern, as if eager to grasp her beneath their vortex, threatened every
moment to overwhelm her.  Still, however, keeping before them, she
seemed thrown from wave to wave; her head now dashed into the frothy,
boiling cauldron, and now lifted high above the sea, while a dark abyss
threatened below, and a towering billow seemed about to break over, and
inundate her.  At intervals also, the clouds, to add to the disorder,
sent forth deluges of rain so thick, as almost to conceal their vast
pursuer from view; but when again it subsided, she was seen approaching
still nearer to them.

At length, the Russian, angry and weary of the long chase, yawed a
little, and discharged his bow chasers in hopes of crippling the Turk,
and bringing him to; but the balls either plunged into the leaping
waves, or flew high above his masts, as difficult it was to take any
certain aim, while so high a sea was running.

When the missiles of destruction passed thus wide of their mark, a laugh
of defiance, which sounded much like desperation, escaped the Reis, as
he watched where they fell.  The corvette continued firing, as fast as
the people could load the guns, but without doing any damage to the
chase; and of course, the manoeuvre constantly repeated, made her fall
further astern, till hopeless of hitting so small a mark at that
distance, she desisted from firing; and continuing the pursuit,
followed, according to the shiftings of the wind, the devious track of
the zebeque.

The gale as if wearied by its own violence, seemed to have expended its
fury, and to be passing over; first leaving the larger vessel astern,
which was preparing to make more sail, when it shifted round suddenly to
the west with redoubled fury.

Though the zebeque was thus placed to windward, it was certain
destruction to attempt bringing so crank and light a vessel as she was,
broadside on to that raging sea, which would, in an instant, have
overwhelmed her; on a wind being her worst point of sailing.  The only
alternative of unavoidable and quick destruction, was to run still on
before it, and thus to bring the vessel under the very bows of her
gigantic opponent.

Few men, however brave, will rush with their eyes open on certain death,
if it is to be avoided.  Not a moment was to be lost in deliberation,
and as the renewed fury of the gale struck her, the zebeque's head was
again turned towards the east, rapidly approaching the enemy.

The respective positions of the vessels may be thus described.  The
corvette was to the north, with her head south-east, while the Turk was
running due east; thus approaching each other on two sides of a
triangle, of which the apex was towards the east.

Now was the most trying moment for all on board the Turkish vessel, yet
still there was one remote chance of escape--a hazardous one
unquestionably; and yet, in preference to captivity, it was worth while
to risk destruction.  They might, by running down to the Russian, and
pretending to submit, pass under her stern, and escape before the wind.
Yet it was an experiment, the very mention of which might be derided as
the proposition of madmen.

The moment the Russian perceived the change of course the chase had
made, the corvette hauled her wind without stopping to take in sail, and
recommenced firing her guns, to allow no chance to escape, should the
wind again fail, of capturing her almost certain prey.  The balls, as
before, at first flew harmlessly through the air, or plunged into the
deep, as, towering in her pride; on she came, heeling over to the
furious blast, and casting the foaming waters high over her broad
swelling lofty bow.

Yet the power, the majesty of man's greatest achievement, seemed as
nought amid the strife and tumult of nature.  The roar of the artillery
was mocked to scorn by the far louder crash of heaven's thunder, and the
wild tumult of the waves.  The flashes of the guns were far outshone by
the brightness of the vivid lightning; but none in either vessel seemed
to regard the violent fury of the elements, too intent were they on
their own desperate game.

During this awful and critical interval, Ivan stood firm and collected,
though a sad fate seemed to await him.  On one side, he saw
imprisonment, degradation, and a hopeless exile: on the other, a certain
death, should the Russians, as was but too probable, when there was no
prospect of a prize of value, run down the vessel which had given them
so much trouble; or if she refused to yield, sink her with their guns.
Ivan earnestly prayed for the latter fate: for of what value would life
be to him, with all its lofty aspirations overthrown, his hopes blasted?
What but misery and hopeless slavery, chains and toil, could he expect,
if he escaped with life?  Javis had brought him his sword, which he held
firmly in his grasp, yet somewhat mechanically, perhaps, as if it would
be a satisfaction to die with that in his hand: while Javis, casting
glances of scowling defiance towards the foe, stood ready to defend his
master if it were possible.

And young Conrin, where was he during this time of tumult and danger?
Calm and undismayed, he too stood by his master's side.  His courage
seemed to have risen with the imminence of the danger.  It was not
ignorance of the peril of their situation which gave him that cool and
intrepid air; for he marked it well, as with unflinching glance he gazed
ever and anon at the coming foe, and then fixed his large flashing eye
intently on his master's face.  His brow and cheek were paler than
usual, and his lips compressed: yet it seemed that, although an awful
death was about to overwhelm all on board, his features wore an air of
almost satisfaction and happiness; but he spoke not, nor moved from his
post.  It was strange that so young a boy should show such courage at so
trying a moment, when hardy seamen quailed and turned pale with terror.

Well did the gallant old Hadji show that his heart was fearless, and
that he was a warrior-leader of a brave people, whom no danger could
daunt, as rousing himself from his prayers, he stood defying his
enemies, and prepared for the worst.  Of his followers and the crew,
some took courage from his example, and bravely grasped their arms, in
the futile hope of, at least, having one blow for life; while others,
pallid and trembling with dismay, tried to shelter themselves behind the
bulwarks of the vessel.

The Russians continued firing without intermission, the shots every
instant falling closer to the mark, till one went through the Turk's
after-sail, and another followed, striking his deck, ploughing up the
wood, and throwing the splinters on every side, ere it bounded
overboard.  A few more fell harmlessly; but they were now approaching
frightfully near the Russian, and they could scarcely hope to escape
more of his shots.  Another of these missiles came on board tearing away
part of the bulwarks, striking one of the seamen, and carrying his
mangled body with it into the sea.  At this event, even the hardy
captain's presence of mind forsook him: his courage for a moment gave
way; and quitting his post, he wrung his hands in despair, leaving the
vessel to her fate.

At this critical juncture, Ivan sprang aft, seizing the captain by the
arm, and forced him to resume his place at the helm.

"For shame, Reis Mustapha!" he exclaimed.  "You, have hitherto behaved
like a brave, good seaman, continue to prove that you really are one.
Regard not the shots till they sink us.  That can but be our fate at the
last, when all hope has flown.  While you live, use all means, all
exertions to escape, for Providence may yet rescue us from destruction."

"Ay, ay, my brother," interrupted the brave old Hadji.  "Give not way to
despair while a hope remains.  Cowards alone do that.  Think you that I
have prayed to Allah and his Prophet for no purpose, that he should thus
abandon his servants?  Have I journeyed to his holy city, and kissed the
sacred Kaaba for nought?  Still hope that our time is not yet come."

"The noble Hadji speaks truly," added Ivan.  "Take the helm, Reis, and
guide us straight onward.  We shall soon know the worst."

The Reis obeyed; taking the tiller from the hands of Javis, but with a
look which plainly indicated that he was without hope.

By this time they were close to the corvette; but her guns were now more
carelessly aimed, from the certainty the Russians felt of capturing the
chase.

The awful, the dreaded moment approached, which would too probably
consign every human being on board the zebeque to eternity, for their
huge opponent seemed determined to run them down if their colours were
not instantly lowered, and even then there was but little chance of
their escaping that fate.  Another moment and the next vast surge would
bring her upon them!  A more tremendous blast than they had hitherto
felt now struck them, hurling their tiny bark before it into the very
jaws of the foe.  Deluges of thick rain rushed down, while a loud roar
thundered from the clouds, and a vivid flash of lightning darted through
the air.  A loud shriek of despair rose from the crew: their fate was
sealed.

"Allah protect us!" cried the Hadji.  "This is an awful time."

The bravest gasped for breath; the deck seemed to shake beneath their
feet.  The sea dashed over them, but the thick falling rain obscured all
around from their sight.

The young page gazed more earnestly at his master, but his limbs
trembled not, nor did a word escape his lips.

The dreaded shock came not; the vessel still floated on the waves; the
thick rain ceased.

Again a cry arose from the Turkish crew, but it was no longer that of
terror.  "Where is the Giaour? where is the Russian ship?" was uttered
by the voices of all.  They had passed her.

There she lay, close on their quarter, with her head to the wind, her
foremast shattered to the deck, the spars and rigging dashing against
her sides, her bulwarks stove in: the proud ship of Russia, was a
wreck--she was on fire!

Even at that moment of confusion, some small guns were fired over her
stern, with a determined feeling of animosity and revenge, in the hopes
of doing some injury, but their shot fell impotently into the waves, and
the crew were too much occupied with their own preservation, to pay any
further attention to the hard-driven chase.

Loud prayers ascended from the deck of the Turk, for their narrow and
providential escape; Ivan's heartbeat quicker with gratitude than it had
with fear; while young Conrin clasped his hands with silent fervour, and
seemed ready to fall at his master's feet with joy.

The Hadji, having concluded his brief prayer, exclaimed; "Did I not tell
you, Reis, that Allah would protect us, that my prayers would not be in
vain?  Look, where the late impious Kaffir lies shattered and scathed by
Heaven's rage, at the very moment he thought himself secure of his prey.
Another time think not that it is your kismet [fate] to die; that will
come in Allah's good time; but strive on always to the last.  Think you
my countrymen could hold out against our mighty foe, if we thought that
it was our kismet to be conquered?  Bosh! kismet is a good thing, when
it points to victory; but else it is nonsense.  No, my brother, no;
strive while you can, and yield to fate only when it overpowers you."

These principles the gallant Hadji not only preached, but with the rest
of his countrymen, practised.

As the danger diminished, so did the courage of the terror-stricken crew
return.  They taunted with gestures their crippled and now impotent foe,
as the light zebeque bounded away from her before the gale.  "Why don't
you come on now?" some cried.  "See, Giaour; see, cowardly Kaffir, we
are sailing away from you; why don't you follow us as before?  Come on,
then, come on.  We cannot wait for you.  We are in a hurry to pursue our
voyage."

With such like expressions the crew shewed their delight at their
escape, while rapidly scudding onward they soon run the corvette out of
sight.  As long as her movements could be distinguished, she remained
with her head still to the wind, dipping her bows under the waves which
broke in deluges over her.  Thick wreaths of smoke rose from that part
of her deck where her foremast had stood, curling round her remaining
masts as it was blown aft; but that in time decreased, and the fire was
apparently got under.  So little mercy had she shewn to the zebeque,
that no commiseration was felt for her fate, whatever it might be.

Those only who have escaped from imminent peril, when either death or
slavery has been about to overtake them, can fully enter into the
feelings of gratitude and satisfaction which our hero experienced, as
the last topmast sails of the Russian ship sank below the horizon; and
those only who have seen a loved object rescued from a threatened
danger, can feel as the young Conrin did; for few could love so well as
that strangely enthusiastic and romantic boy loved his master.

They continued on their course, running all day before the wind, which
drove them towards their destination, each moment dreading to fall in
with another Russian cruiser; but not a sail appeared to alarm them.  By
night the wind, still keeping favourable, subsided to a gentle breeze,
while a sharp lookout was kept from the mast-head for another enemy, or
to discover the coast, which they knew they must be now nearing.

Volume 2, Chapter IV.

The territory of the Circassian tribes is bounded on the north by the
River Kouban, which separates it from the lands now inhabited by the
Tchernemorskoi Cossacks, whom the Russians--after utterly annihilating
the former inhabitants, (not using the words in a figurative sense)--
placed there as a rough and sturdy outwork to their empire.  From the
mouths of the Kouban it is bounded by the Black Sea, the coast trending
from the north-west to the south-east as far as Iscuria, on the mouth of
the Salamache River, which separates it on the south from the province
of Mingrelia, now nominally subject to Russia.  To the south-east is the
former kingdom of Georgia, now also brought under subjection to the same
benign and far reaching power.  To the north-east, the sources of the
Kouban and some of its numerous mountain tributaries pass through its
present borders, the plains beyond having been conquered by Russia.  To
the east, the boundaries are uncertain, depending on those natural
fortifications, the inaccessible cliffs of the Caucasus; but the tribes
even to the very shores of the Caspian, have set their invaders at
defiance, and have joined the league of the patriot Circassians.

Circassia Proper is divided into Lower Abasia to the north, bordering on
the Kouban, and Upper Abasia to the south; the inhabitants of the former
being by far the most civilised and polished of the two, though both
equally cordial in detestation of their invaders.  These two divisions
are again separated into provinces, those of Nottakhaotzi, Khapsoukhi,
Bredoukha, and of the Demirghoi, in Lower Abasia, which is the part of
the country to which we are about to introduce our readers.  The tribes
keep distinct from each other, though the members of each live scattered
about in all parts of the country.

The whole of the independent part of Circassia is mountainous, that
alone having: been able to withstand the immensely superior force which
the Russians brought against them; but the tribes of the plains equally
hate their conquerors, and take every opportunity of escaping to join
their still free countrymen.  Indeed, the whole, or greater part, of
some tribes have migrated to the mountains to be released from Russian
oppression, leaving their homes, their fields, and their property, to
ruin and destruction.

There are no cities or towns in Circassia; the inhabitants preferring
the freedom and health of a mountain life to the trammels and formality
of the city, and each chief choosing the most beautiful and romantic
spot for his habitation, while his followers and dependents collect in
hamlets in the neighbourhood.

The principal rivers falling into the Kouban are the Kara Kouban, the
Ubin, the Aranos, the Laba, and the Urup; those which empty themselves
into the Black Sea are the Sukhoi, the Mezi, near the Russian Fort
Ghelendjik, the Toughe, the Soubachi, which divides Upper and Lower
Abasia, the Kenehili, the Llhena, the Kodos, and the Salmache, which
separates the country from Mingrelia.  Numerous other streams and
rivulets meander through the whole country, and fertilise every vale.

At the time to which our story refers, the Russians had succeeded in
erecting several forts in the boundaries of the country; those of Anapa
and Ghelendjik on the coast, both built under the protection of a
powerful army, aided by the guns from their ship.  They have established
also a line of fortified towns to the north of the Kouban, the principal
of which are Ekatermodar, Labinskai, Stavrapol, Alexandrof, and
Georgivesk, forming a road of communication from the Black Sea towards
the Caspian, called the Valdi Caucasse.  But even between these towns
the Russians cannot move except with a strong escort, as otherwise they
would run the greatest risk of being cut off by the mountaineers, who
descending from their fastnesses, frequently make excursions far beyond
them.  There are also other forts of less importance, which will be
mentioned in the course of our history.

The origin of the Circassians, like that of all nations who have
tradition alone to hand down their history, is clouded in obscurity.
They themselves do not pretend to know from what race they are sprung,
but it is certain that they are of very great antiquity, and have in all
ages been celebrated for their bravery and other warlike qualities,
their courtesy, and the surpassing beauty of their women.  At one period
they inhabited an extended tract of territory, comprising the Crimea,
and all the country bordering on the Sea of Marmora and the Euxine; but
the tribes dwelling in that country either became amalgamated with the
Tartars, or were driven thence by the superior numbers of that people,
as the pure stock is now only to be found among the mountains of the
Caucasus, or in the plains immediately below them.

It seems probable, that the Circassians are of Median extraction, and
were at one time as civilised as any of the surrounding nations, if not
more so: but it must be confessed that they have not advanced, even with
the same steps in the arts and sciences as their neighbours; though they
retain in a greater degree the polished and courteous manners, and
heroic virtues which formed the pride of the nations of antiquity.  The
tribes which boast of belonging to the purer race, unmixed with any
foreign blood, distinguish themselves by the name of Atteghei, and as in
Great and Little Karbadia, their language is spoken with the greatest
purity.  Those provinces have most likely from time immemorial, been
inhabited by the true Circassians, who thence scattered themselves over
the surrounding districts, either by conquest, or by finding the land
unoccupied.

The people to whom we give the general name of Circassians, call
themselves Atteghei; some writers mention them as Carbadians, from their
former country of Karbadia, while the Turks and Russians call them
without distinction, Abasians.

There are four classes of society among them, the first, that of the
Pchees or Princes, who are the heads of the most powerful tribes; the
Ouzdens or nobles, many of whom, at present, have no real power, but who
disdain to intermix their blood with those below them; the Tocavs or
Freemen, many of whom possess wealth, and are, except in blood, equal to
the nobles; and lastly, the serfs, or slaves taken in war, who in time
become incorporated into the tribes of their masters, and may gain their
freedom.  The power of the Princes has of late years much declined,
though they are treated with the strictest observances of respect, by
those of inferior rank.

In some tribes, the chiefs are hereditary, while in others, a head is
chosen among the principal nobles of their own tribe, for his life,
except he should prove incapable, in which case he is deposed, and
another elected in his stead.  At times also, instead of the head of the
tribe, a leader is chosen to conduct them to war, while the former acts
in a civil capacity alone.

In no country is greater respect shewn by inferiors to those above them
in rank or age; and in no country has the spirit of clanship been
carried further, all being bound to revenge the death of one of their
tribe on the slayer; and, should the offender not be given up, on the
life of any member of his family; the Lex Talionis, being indeed the
principal law of the land, as it must be in all countries, where there
is no fixed government to dispense justice.

The government, indeed, such as it is, may be looked upon rather as a
Republic, than as an Oligarchy; for those of all ranks may give their
opinion, and vote at the public meetings, though the princes and chiefs
of clans have the most influence, and their sentiments are looked upon
with the greatest respect.  Perhaps, no country is more free, or
governed with so much regularity and order.

Each man may if oppressed, leave his chief, and put himself under the
protection of another; changing his lands at will to any spot he may
find unoccupied, no one having the right of keeping lands he does not
cultivate.  Though, for many generations, they have remained under
successive descendants of the same chief; they are bound by no other
tie, than that of love and respect, while so carefully does each class
guard its own privileges, that no chief has ever succeeded in uniting
the whole under his own authority.

Their laws are few and simple, exactly suited to their state of society,
and so strictly enforced, that they are comparatively rarely infringed;
each tribe being answerable for the crimes of any individual member, who
consequently offends equally against his own friends.  All claims are
settled by a jury, composed of six members from the respective tribes,
and are generally arranged by payment of fines, two hundred head of
oxen, being the fine for manslaughter, and so on for theft, abduction,
etc.  Should the fine not be paid by the time agreed on, the sufferers
carry off the cattle, and destroy the fences and fields of the
offenders.

It must be understood, that these tribes of the Atteghei are not
distinct races, but merely families who have been, perhaps for ages,
bound together by a solemn oath, to support each other in every way,
forming a brotherhood, as it were, who consider themselves so nearly
related, that they may not even intermarry with each other.

The religious faith of the people, is formed of a belief in one
omnipotent Being, and in the immortality of the soul; but they have no
established priests.  The elders and most venerable chiefs, or those
most noted for piety, together with their aged bards, perform the few
and simple ceremonies of religion.  Their place of worship is in some
secluded grove of aged and lofty trees, held sacred for ages by their
ancestors, whose tombs lie around them.

Let our readers ask themselves, if such worship is not more likely to be
grateful to the Divine Being, than the gross superstition and bigoted
idolatry of the benighted Russian, who scarcely knows the name of his
Maker.

There is not the slightest doubt, but that Christianity was at one time
the prevailing religion of the country, as there are numerous crosses in
all parts, still looked up to with veneration by the people; and there
are the ruins also of several churches.  It is said, that in some parts
of the interior of the more remote districts of Upper Abasia, the people
still profess Christianity unmixed with any Pagan observances.

The Circassians divide the week as among us, considering Sunday as the
most sacred day.  Easter is celebrated by them as a holy feast, with the
utmost pomp, beginning with a strict fast.  They have several saints or
inferior deities, guardians, they say, of the air, water, the harvest,
the summer, in whose honour they hold festivals at stated seasons, as in
Catholic countries; particularly one, which they celebrate much in the
same manner as the feast of St. John, in some parts of Germany, by
decking a tree with flowers, lights, and other ornaments.  Except on
these particular days, they do not pay their presiding guardians any
attention, nor even then, do they pray to them, but offer up sacrifices
by immolating victims on an altar, according to the old Pagan custom of
Greece and Rome.  They meet in the sacred groves to pray before going to
battle, and after a victory.

No religious ceremonies take place at their marriages, the couple being
alone betrothed in the presence of their friends, (as is now the lawful
way of coupling people in civilised England) when a feast is given, and
games take place.

The burial ceremonies, even of a chief or warrior, are simple,
consisting of a funeral oration, pronounced over his grave, while hymns
are sung by those who attend the procession to his last resting-place.
The anniversary of his death is celebrated with feasts, and prayers over
his tomb, decked with flowers.

Mahometism has of late years been introduced into the Caucasus by the
Turks, and some mosques have been established, but it has not gained
much ground; their ancient institutions being too deeply rooted in the
affections of the people, though numbers now profess it, but conform to
its customs, as far only as their inclination leads them.

The Circassians are, in general, a most abstemious people, living
chiefly on a farinaceous diet, and though possessing spirituous liquors
and wine, they use them in moderation, indulging in them, as well as in
meat, only on their great feasts.

They are hospitable in an unbounded degree, their guest-houses ever
standing open for the reception of visitors, but they have been taught,
by the vilest treachery, too often practised against them by the
instigation of the Russians, to be suspicious of strangers coming
without a recommendation to them.  Any one, however, who may visit their
country under the protection of one of their chiefs, they are ready to
protect to the utmost with their lives, each noble vieing with the other
in paying their guest attention.

They have the deepest veneration for age, listening to the counsels of
their elders, and obeying their commands.

To the female sex also, they pay the most chivalrous devotion.  Their
minstrel's highest theme, next to their warrior's deeds, is the praise
of woman's charms, and the proudest noble treats the lowly maiden with
every consideration and respect, nor thinks himself demeaned in aiding
her in any occupation in which she may be engaged.

The lower orders are in the habit of sending their daughters to the
Constantinopolitan matrimonial market, (for so it is to them,)
receiving, however, some valuable consideration, to insure their safe
arrival there.  The Circassians also take every precaution to hear
continually of the welfare of their daughters in Turkey; nor do they
ever compel them to go against their will, or, as in the more civilised
countries of Europe, drive them to contract a hateful marriage, or offer
them the dreadful alternative of being immured for life in a convent.
The nobles never allow their daughters to marry, except with one of
their own rank, and when they send them to Stamboul, it is to become the
chief sultana of some Pacha's harem, an arrangement the fair girls
consider the happiest fate which could befall them, though exchanging
the liberty of their mountains for riches, splendour, and a prison, but
gaining what they never could at home, entire liberty, on the death of
their lord, and frequently considerable wealth.  The Circassian girls
are much prized in the Turkish harems, beyond their beauty, for their
various useful and ornamental accomplishments.

We have said that there are no towns, the people living in villages,
hamlets, or detached dwellings.  The houses consist only of a ground
floor, built of wood plastered over, and neatly thatched.  The dwelling
of a chief consists of several separate divisions: the anderoon, or
women's apartments; that of the lord himself; and the guest-house;
besides the houses of the servants, the granaries, and stables for the
horses and cattle.

It is curious to see the interior of what appears a humble cottage,
filled with rich couches of silk, magnificent Turkey carpets, splendid
armour and weapons, inlaid tables and other valuable articles.

Some of the villages are fortified, but in a manner to afford no
protection against cannon.  They are generally situated by the side of
some limpid stream, and in the most picturesque situations.

They speak a language entirely different from any other known tongue;
but Turkish and Arabic is understood by many of their chiefs, who have
served in Turkey and Egypt.  Several also have been in the Russian
service; but have returned to their native country to defend her rights,
in preference to indulging in luxury and ease under a despot.

They say that their fighting men amount to two hundred thousand; but
every man amongst them is a warrior.

The arts are at a very low ebb among them, though they possess the
greatest skill in forging their armour and weapons, which they emboss
beautifully.  They also work in gold and silver embroidery; but it must
be confessed they are totally ignorant of science, nor have they even a
written language, and very few among them can read Turkish, though they
pay the greatest respect to the Koran, with which they administer their
oaths.

They are very industrious, having brought their lands into the highest
state of cultivation, thus enabling them within a small extent of
country, aided by the fertility of the soil, to support a large
population.  The farms are kept with the greatest neatness, and
surrounded with thriving orchards.  They possess also large flocks and
herds.

On all public occasions and when engaged in war, the chiefs wear
complete suits of splendid armour, much like that of the ancient
Persians, from whose country they sometimes procure it at the present
day.  On a foray, when activity is most requisite, and they wish not to
be distinguished from their followers, they have under their ordinary
dress, light coats of chain armour of most exquisite workmanship, many
of which are made in the country, and others come from Persia.  They
possess rifles and pistols, but many still use the long bow and arrow,
with which they can take the most deadly aim.  They have also long
swords, and the broad two-edged dagger, such as was used by the Romans
of old, a most murderous weapon in their hands.  They use also a sharp
straight sabre without a guard to the hilt.  The ordinary dress of all
classes is elegant and picturesque.

There are numerous wild animals in Circassia, such as bears, wolves,
jackals, and stags, which the people eagerly hunt.  Their horses are
celebrated for speed and strength, and they are perhaps the most expert
horsemen in the world.

We will now sum up the character of the Circassians.  No one, even their
enemies, can deny that they possess the most heroic bravery and
undaunted courage, the most devoted love of liberty, are hospitable to
the utmost of their means, generous in the extreme, virtuous in their
lives, and abstemious in their habits; that they venerate age, are
courteous and gentle to their women, polished in their manners to each
other, more especially to strangers, humane to their prisoners, have a
firm reliance on the goodness of the divinity, a deep sense of religion,
and the strictest regard to an oath, which is inviolable among them; and
yet, this being no highly coloured or overdrawn character, these are the
people, whom the Russian stigmatise as untameable barbarians, whom it
will be a benefit to the human race to sweep from the face of the earth.

Volume 2, Chapter V.

The now calm, glass-like waters shone with a rich glow of orange tint
reflected from the sky, as the sun rose in majestic glory from his ocean
bed.  The sails of the Turkish bark caught the radiance, as, impelled by
a gentle air, she glided through the sea of molten gold.

As the deep glow gradually faded from the horizon, leaving a clear view
of the ocean's margin, the man from the mast-head shouted in tones of
delight, "Abasa!  Abasa! land! land! the land of Circassia!"  The effect
was electrical.  All on board turned their gaze towards the east.  The
Hadji and the devout Mahometans ceased from their morning prayer; the
seamen mounted the rigging; and, as a light gauze-like veil of mist was
drawn up to the sky, the blue mountains of the lofty Caucasian range
appeared just rising above the waters in the far distance.

Ivan's heart beat with enthusiastic delight as he gazed on the land of
his birth, the land of all his most romantic aspirations.  The
accomplishment of his eager wishes--the fulfilment of his vow--would not
much longer be deferred.  His earnest gaze was fixed on the scene, as
mountain after mountain, and hill after hill, rose to view.

As the zebeque glided swiftly towards land, the more minute details of
the landscape could be distinguished; mountains of every fantastic form
were seen piled one on another, clothed with verdure from the bright
water's edge to the topmost peak, where they seemed lost in the pure
blue sky.  Trees of various foliage bent over precipitous and rugged
cliffs, bounding a smiling valley, through which meandered a sparkling
stream; by its banks grazed herds of cattle while numerous horses
galloped in unrestrained freedom over the velvet lawn.

The zebeque had made the shore rather too far to the south of their
destination, and as she coasted calmly along, Ivan gazed with enraptured
and untiring eye on the lovely scene.  Far as the eye could reach, up
the sides of the steep sloping hills, numerous flocks of white sheep
were seen quietly grazing, and from craig to craig, bounded nimbly with
long and slender limbs the jet black goats.

He looked on the unostentatious abodes of his countrymen, their little
cots built on the slopes of the gently swelling hills, amid fields of
ripening corn, their farm yards surrounded by groves of trees covered
with fruit, from among which the thin smoke from their domestic hearths
curled upward in wreathy pillars.  All around appeared the abodes of
contentment and peace--how sadly deceitful and treacherous.  In another
day all might be laid waste, and a howling desert usurp its place.

The lately dignified Hadji, excited to the most enthusiastic delight,
walked the deck with the activity of youth, pointing out to Ivan the
names of the different little inlets, bays, valleys, and mountains as
they coasted along.

They were saluted too, as they passed, by many a band of warriors,
hastening towards the scene of strife in the north, where their invaders
had landed.  Many a gallant chief, in his war array, his bright armour
glittering in the sun, galloped by, waving his shining sword to salute
them, attended by a band of followers, shouting defiance to their foes,
and singing hymns of victory.

No one seemed to enter into Ivan's feelings so well as young Conrin,
whose eyes brightened with delight unusual to him as he gazed ever and
anon at his master's countenance: and then turned them towards the
lovely scene, whose beauties he seemed to enjoy the more that they were
seen by one he loved.

The spot where the Reis had appointed to land was near the Bay of Pchad,
in sight of which they soon came.  Here a dense forest covered, with
thickest foliage, both the mountain side and the shore to the very
water's edge, affording a secure shelter to the inhabitants, should any
of their enemies attempt to land in order to destroy their vessels.  The
zebeque ran boldly on towards the smooth yellow sand, almost
overshadowed by the trees; and as she neared the shore, a man, whose
glittering armour and helmet, decked with an eagle's plume, betokened
him a chieftain, approached the water, mounted on a coal-black steed,
and urging the noble animal up to his girths into the sea, he waved his
sword, and courteously beckoned to the strangers to land.  Having
saluted them, he again slowly and with dignity retired from the shore.

As the vessel's keel almost touched the sand, her anchor was let go, her
sails being quickly furled by her eager crew, delighted at thus having
brought their hazardous adventure to a successful issue.  In a moment,
she was surrounded by boats from the shore, to lighten her of her cargo
ere she was drawn up on the beach beneath the shelter of the trees.

Into the first the Hadji, our hero, and his two followers stepped; and
as her bow touched the strand of Circassia, the natives flocked around,
eager to welcome the strangers to their shores.

Ivan's heart leaped with joy as his foot touched his native land; and he
would have knelt down in gratitude to heaven, and kissed the soil he had
so eagerly longed to tread, but that the presence of the surrounding
multitude prevented his giving way to his feelings.  For an instant,
then, that sensation of blankness, of loneliness, that unsatisfied
feeling, which sometimes comes over us, when we fancy that our desires
are accomplished, seized him, and oppressed his spirits, as accompanied
by his two retainers, he followed the Hadji towards the spot to which
the chieftain had retired.

No sooner did the latter see the Hadji approaching, than he leaped from
his steed, which his squire held while he hastened to meet him.  The two
aged men, for the noble warrior seemed far advanced in years, rushed
forward; their dignity thrown aside, and falling on each other's necks,
they embraced and almost wept for joy.

"My brother!" exclaimed the aged chief; "hast thou, indeed, again
returned to me from thy long and perilous pilgrimage among strange
people?  Do I again see the noble pride of our race in life and
strength?  Allah be praised for all his mercies!"

"Yes, my brother!" rejoined the Hadji, "yes, Allah is merciful.  I have
escaped all dangers, and my heart rejoices to see you still able to bear
arms against our foes; but say, my brother, how fares my son Alp, my
well-loved young son?  Does the boy live?  Does he still follow up the
early promise of his youth?"

"Your son, my brother, is well worthy of your name.  He still dwells
with his Attalick; but being well skilled in all martial exercises, he
is now able to follow you to the field, and has already gained some
honour against the enemy.  It will rejoice your heart to see him, and
you will seem to live your youth over again as you recognise yourself in
him."

"To Allah and his prophet be all praise," replied the Hadji, piously.
"Then am I content.  But say, my brother, does my wife still live to
rejoice in the growing promise of our son?"

"Yes, yes, she still lives."

"Allah be praised!" again ejaculated the Hadji.  "And say, does my
sister still live; does she also rejoice in the noble deeds of your
gallant sons?  Are they yet numbered among the stern bulwarks of our
country?  Do their steeds yet carry them like thunder-bolts against the
foe?"

The old warrior shook his head.

"Alas! my brother, the leaden death of the hated Urus [the name the
Circassians give to the Russians] have laid two in the graves of our
fathers, where they sleep the sleep of the brave; but the rest yet
remain to avenge their fate."

"God is great," answered the Hadji, "and by his prophet's help we will
yet take ample vengeance on their destroyers."

"Allah is merciful, and will give us blood for blood," replied the
other.  "But think not that they died ere they had made their foes pay
dearly for their death.  No, hundreds of the slavish Urus fell before
their conquering sabres; and in that thought, I cease to mourn, but yet
what are the lives of a thousand Urus to one true son of the Atteghei?"

"Bosh! as nothing.  As chaff to corn, as dross to pure gold; but we will
avenge them brother," said the Hadji, grasping his sword.  "My heart
will beat with joy, when I find myself once more among their ranks."

"That may soon be; for their ships, but a short time ago, landed a large
force on the coast to the north, who are yet shut up in their fort.  But
say, who are these strangers who accompany you?  What do they here?"

"In the first joyful moment of meeting you I thought not of them, but
will now attend to the duties of hospitality," And introducing Ivan, the
Hadji added, "I bring with me, one who is our countryman, my adopted
son, next to Alp in my love; regard him as such, for my sake."

"To me he will always be welcome," replied the chief, taking Ivan by the
hand.  "And I will believe that he is worthy to be a true son of the
Atteghei.  But come, we will waste no further time here.  He and his
attendants shall accompany us, while some of my followers shall stay to
bring up your goods from the vessel.  We will at once repair to the
dwelling of the noble Prince of Pchad, whither I was bound, when I saw
your vessel approaching the land.  He will welcome you with the arms of
friendship.  Away, my Deli Khans," he cried, addressing several young
men who surrounded him.  "Give notice to the noble Prince of our coming,
and say, moreover, that some strangers accompany us."

The Chieftain, and his brother, the Hadji led the way from the sea
shore, accompanied by Ivan, and followed by a numerous band of active
young mountaineers, each completely armed, with a gun slung on his back,
a sword by his side, and a dagger in his belt, to which several had
added pistols.  Their dress consisted of a coat, fitting close to the
body, of dark cloth trimmed with silver, without a collar, and open at
the neck, secured by loops in front, and having long hanging sleeves;
the skirts reached completely round to the knees, wide trowsers of a
darkish green colour, tightening at the calf, embroidered boots of
dressed leather, and belts round their waists of the same.  Their
bonnets were of sheepskin or dark cloth.  Altogether the costume was
elegant and picturesque.

The party proceeded for a short distance through a thick grove, on a
gentle slope, which soon terminated in rough cliffs rising abruptly from
the lower ground, under the shelter of wide-spreading beech trees of
vast height, and of venerable oaks, extending their leafy boughs, almost
to the water's edge.  They soon arrived at the entrance of a beautiful
valley, which extended in a winding course far inland.  After passing
some way through it, they were entirely shut in by rocky cliffs, or
steep, almost precipitous hills, yet clothed with the graceful linden,
the dark leaved mulberry, the magnificent chestnut, the dark and silvery
olive, and many other trees; and as they wound their way up the steep
sides of the hills, they passed beneath natural arbours of the high
creeping vine, and the graceful hop, which twined their slender tendrils
from tree to tree, and from peak to peak.

The distant scenery was still hidden by the leafy shelter, when a
successive discharge of fire arms was heard, and as they emerged from
the thickets into an open space on the summit of the hill, a party of
young cavaliers was seen galloping towards them at desperate speed,
flourishing their swords, and firing off their pistols, and uttering
shouts of congratulation and welcome; to which the old chief's party
answered when the others rushing forward, joined their ranks.

A beautiful village of low cottages scattered among the trees now
appeared.  Apart from the rest, and having greater pretentions to
architectural grandeur, stood a dwelling, surrounded with several other
buildings appertaining to it.  From the principal gate-way in the fence,
which enclosed it, was seen advancing towards the party, a personage,
whose appearance struck Ivan with admiration.  His long, flowing, and
blanched beard, the deep lines which furrowed his expressive
countenance, and his attenuated figure, bespoke him a man far advanced
in the vale of years, though his eye still glowed with some of the fire
of youth.  He walked erect and firm, clothed in complete armour, with
helmet on head, cuirass and cuisses of polished steel plates richly
embossed, as with a noble and dignified air, he advanced to meet his
guests, and to welcome them to his home.

He courteously pressed their hands.  "Welcome, my noble friend," he
said, addressing the chief, "and you, oh venerable Hadji, who by the
blessing of Allah, have returned from your travels, to bring wisdom and
knowledge to our country.  Welcome also to these strangers, who, under
thy protection, I will receive as my sons and friends.  My house, and
all whom Mahmood commands, are at your orders--"

"Most noble Prince," replied the Hadji, as spokesman of the party, "not
the least of my happiness in returning again to my loved country, is to
see you still alive, and ruling your people with wisdom and justice.
Gladly will we partake of your well-known hospitality."

Saying which, the Hadji led the way to the guest-house, to which the
Prince pointed, following himself in the rear of the party, who
entering, took their seats on broad cushions or ottomans, which
surrounded the room; their arms being hung up on the walls by attendants
in waiting.  The aged host would not take a seat, till the Hadji and his
brother had earnestly pressed him to do so.

"Rest here awhile," he said, "till my women can prepare food to refresh
you after your voyage.  Do not imagine, that though daily threatened by
a descent of our deadly enemy, I cannot, as in other days, prepare a
banquet for a thousand or more of our gallant warriors, if they should
honour me by a visit."

The conversation now became general.  The Hadji had many inquiries to
make, and much to relate; and as the time wore on, several nobles of
lesser rank, and importance in the neighbourhood, and subject to the
Prince of Pchad, entered, and took their seats on the Divan.  Ivan was
silent, listening with interest to the conversation, while his two
attendants stood respectfully among the others at the further end of the
room.

The subject of discourse then turned entirely on the state of the
country; the Uzden Achmet Beg, the Hadji's brother, giving him an
account of the different military operations which had occurred since
the commencement of the campaign.

"Bismillah!" exclaimed the old chief.  "We have well beaten the cursed
Urus, whenever we could catch them beyond the shelter of their
fortresses, where we coop them up like so many sheep in their pens.
They talk of occupying our country; why, they have in all but three or
four forts in it, which they can only hold by means of their fleet; and
which we could capture any day we liked.  Except Anapa, which we care no
more for, than a dog chained to his kennel, who barks without reaching
us to bite, they have only Ghelendjik, and another small fort near the
sea, and Aboon at the head of the Kouban, where we close them in, and
have nearly starved them to death.  But as they can do no harm there, we
do not choose to risk losing many valuable lives to take it.  They once
attempted to establish one of their colonies and forts at Soudjouk
Kalie; but that time we were prepared for them.  We rushed down upon
them like a troop of wolves into a sheep fold, ere they could throw up
their fortifications, and carried away one half of their people to till
our own fields; while the rest we drove into the sea, where their ships
picked them up.  They found it was no use attempting to sow corn where
they would never be allowed to reap, so they sailed away; and with the
blessings of Allah, we will soon make them do the like from all parts of
the country."

"Allah be praised, we will soon accomplish that work," exclaimed the
Hadji.  "My heart yearns to be among them again, with my true sword in
my hand, in the loving way I used to treat them.  Bismillah! we must
make a foray among them, just to take the rust off our weapons.  What
say you, my son?" turning to Ivan, "will you try the strength of your
arm on the hard heads of the Urus, and strike your first blow for the
liberty of your country?"

"Gladly will I accompany you, my noble friend," said Ivan.  "I should
not wish to serve under a better leader, for you well know how ardently
I long to prove myself worthy of the race from which I have sprung."

"Then, by the favour of Allah," replied the Hadji, "before long, I will
lead the way among their ranks, and we will then see what stuff they are
made of, by cutting them to pieces.  They are slaves and curs.  Their
mothers and fathers are dogs."

The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of several male and
female slaves bearing a repast.  The dishes were placed on small wooden
tables, about a foot high, before each person, as they sat round the
room on the ottoman.  The host himself handed to every guest a cup of
light mead, a ceremony preliminary to the repast.  He would not be
seated until he had performed this courtesy; nor would he join the meal,
notwithstanding his advanced age, till repeatedly urged by the party to
do so.  The servants stood round to attend to the wants of each guest:

The repast consisted of mutton, dressed in a variety of ways; fat
poultry, pastry, preserves, and fruit, commencing with a bowl of rich
and savoury soup, with spoons placed for every person to help
themselves; after which, each man drew a small knife from his girdle, to
commence the attack.

Before the attendants had cleared away the tables, the aged Prince
arose, and filling his cup with mead, drank to the health of all present
in turns.

"By what name shall I address my young stranger guest?" he asked,
turning to Ivan.  "Though he speaks with the tongue of our people, and
his eagle glance, and lofty stature, betoken him to be a noble, yet know
I not his name.  Say, under what appellation shall he dwell in the
memory of Mahmood Indar?"

"Noble Prince," replied Ivan, rising from his seat, "you speak truly,
though I am, I trust, of the pure race of the Atteghei.  Name have I
none.  I love not the one I have borne for many years, therefore, I give
it not, and the noble name I long to bear, I give not, until I have done
some deeds, to shew myself worthy of the race from which I deem myself
sprung; that my kindred should not say, when I claim their love, that I
am no true scion of their stock.  This I have sworn by the bright heaven
above us.  My noble friend, the Hadji Guz Beg, has offered to shew the
way among the ranks of our foes, and I have sworn to follow him, even to
the cannon's mouth."

All applauded this speech, the Hadji springing forward to embrace him.
"I see, my second son, that you will prove a true Circassian," he cried,
"and by the blessing of Allah, by to-morrow's dawn, we will proceed in
search of our foes: to-night, we will rest under the roof of our noble
host."

"Happy am I to receive so gallant a warrior as you have proved yourself,
oh!  Hadji; and honoured am I in such guests as you and your friends,"
answered the Prince.

The repast being concluded, the party strolled out among rich and
fertile meadows, sloping from the house down to a pure and glassy
rivulet.  An orchard of various fruit trees surrounded the dwelling,
while, before it, grew some magnificent chestnut trees, under whose
grateful shade the old noble loved to sit, surrounded by his youthful
descendants, enjoying their gambols on the grass.

In the neighbourhood of the house were the farm yards and granaries,
stored with all kinds of corn, the produce of the surrounding
highly-cultivated fields.  On the mountain's brow grazed his numerous
flocks, and in the rich meadows below his herds of fat cattle.

Our hero had parted from his companions, when the page sought his side;
and as Ivan's eye fell on the boy, he exclaimed--

"Conrin, do you find yourself sad and solitary among so many strange
people?"

"Ah, no!" answered the page, "I cannot be sad or solitary when in your
presence."

"Do you then come to congratulate me on having, at length, arrived in
the land of my hopes?" asked Ivan.

"Yes, Sir, yes; whatever gives you pleasure makes my heart beat with
joy; and may your utmost hopes be now fulfilled!"

"Thanks, page; but still my heart is full of fears.  I know not, nor
dare I ask, if yet my father lives.  Why do you sigh, boy?  Does the
name of father cause you thus to sigh?"

"Alas, Sir, I never knew one: the name sounds like mockery on my ear.
The kind and noble friend, whom I thought my father, I found was not so;
and yet I feared to ask who was."

"'Tis strange," said Ivan.  "And your mother, boy?"

"Alas, Sir!" said the page, "the kind and gentle care of her, who was my
mother, I never knew."

The boy's eyes filled with tears.

"I would I had not asked you, boy, about your parents, to make you weep
thus: but dry your tears; I will supply the place of both your parents,
as much as in my power lies; and you shall share my fortunes, which, I
trust, will lead to happiness."

In a moment the boy's eyes brightened, as he gazed up into Ivan's face,
with an inquiring and searching glance, yet radiating with smiles of
joy.

"'Tis that alone I ask to do," he replied.  "To follow your fortunes
through good or evil, in happiness or misery.  Still speak to me in
words like those you just now uttered, and they will repay me all the
hardships I may endure."

"I could not speak harsh words to one so unprotected as you are.  Now
tell me, what think you of my countrymen?  Are they like the wild
barbarians the Russians would have taught the world to think them?  But,
thank heaven! they yet may learn how true courage can oppose its arms to
tyranny, though backed by hosts of slaves."

"I did not think to find them as they are," replied the boy; "more
courteous far, and hospitable, than the people of the land whence we
came.  True valour sits in the eye, even of the lowest of the
multitude."

"You praise them well, good page, but justly," replied Ivan.  "But see,
the party move towards the house.  We must go in.  Keep by my side, as
you see the pages of the nobles do."

Volume 2, Chapter VI.

As the sun of the first day, which Ivan had passed in his native land,
sunk down beneath the waters of the ocean, shining bright and blue
between an opening in the hills, the guests re-assembled in the
hospitable mansion of the Prince Mahmood, where another repast was
served, much in the style of the former; and as the party were seated at
it, a new comer entered the guest-house.  He was dressed in the high fur
cap of Armenia, with a long-flowing, dark robe, bound by a belt round
his waist, at which he carried an ink-horn, pen, and book.

A slave followed him, staggering under the weight of large packages,
which he had unloaded from two horses at the door.

He took his seat respectfully, at some distance from the chiefs, and
humbly ate the viands which the Prince ordered to be placed before him.

"Whence come you?" demanded the host of the stranger, who seemed to be a
pedlar or travelling merchant.  "What goods do you bring for sale?
Allah knows we have little need of any, except powder and lead in these
times."

"I come from the City of the Sultan," replied the Armenian, "from the
rich Stamboul; and I bring jewels and silks for your lovely wives and
daughters, and gemmed daggers and swords for you, noble chiefs.  But I
am a man of peace, and thought not of the powder and lead."

"You will find but a bad market for such wares here," answered the
Prince; "but in my house you are welcome.  What news bring you from
Stamboul?  Do you hear what measures the great Padishah is taking in our
cause?  Or, forgetting the children of his holy creed, does he tamely
submit to the audacious tyranny of the proud Moscov?"

"Alas! my father," replied the merchant, "though all men desire to aid
your cause, and many would eagerly hasten to your assistance, yet the
power of Russia is great, and no movement can be made without coming to
the ears of her minister in the capital of the Sultan, where a whole
host of spies are ever on the watch to carry information to him.  The
Sultan--may Allah prosper him!--would of his own free will do much for
you; but where is now his power, since the standard of the Osmanlis has
sunk before the eagles of the Moscov?  Alas! fallen is the greatness of
the Turks, my father.  Their old allies, the Inglis, have forsaken them,
and joined the armies of their foes.  What help have you, but to yield
to the mighty power opposed to you?"

"What help have we!" vehemently exclaimed the Hadji.  "You are a man of
peace, and the guest of our host, or you should eat those words of dirt
you speak.  What help!  We have the help of Allah in our rightful cause,
and our own good swords to defend our homes; and with the will of
heaven, we will show those cursed Urus that we know how to use our arms.
Let them venture from their strongholds, and we will teach them a
lesson they will not easily forget.  Go to their camps, merchant.  Tell
them to come on; we fear them not.  But, man, you speak false.  Bosh! it
is nonsense.  I, too, have come from Stamboul; and the Inglis are again
the friends of the Sultan; and I know well they would aid our cause if
the Urus did not cram their ears with lies.  There are many noble
spirits among them, ready to fly to our assistance.  Go to, man, you
speak of things long passed.  You know not what you say."

The Armenian pedlar looked confused for a moment, but his assurance soon
returned.

"If the noble Hadji has just arrived from Stamboul, I have no more to
say.  I have journeyed far by land since I left that city, so he,
perchance, brings fresher news than I do."

"The Hadji is right," said the Prince.  "For I too know that the Inglis
are our friends, and if they would but send us powder and lead, we would
be grateful, and be their friends for ever."

"The Inglis, say you, Prince?" answered the Armenian; "you are deceived
in the Inglis.  They are a nation of merchants like me, and aid not a
cause where they cannot make gain; some few are gallant warriors, and
would shed their blood perhaps in your cause; but of what assistance
would a few more swords be among a nation of warriors?  No, Prince, I
say, expect no help from them.  Seek not to war against so powerful a
nation as the Moscovite.  I say not, be friends, but it is madness
contending with them."

"Mashallah!" exclaimed the Hadji, furiously regarding the stranger, "I
warned you, trader, not to speak of peace with our foes, and you have
again done so.  Beware how you utter those words again.  The Inglis are
a brave nation, and I know that they are good warriors, for I have met
many of them; and all who come to this country shall be welcome.  But
what want we more than our own arms to defend our own mountains?  Speak
not again of peace.  Bosh! such words I spit upon;--they are vile."

"I see, noble Hadji, your slave is wrong," cringingly returned the
pedlar.  "I thought of some other Franks; mine too is not a nation of
warriors like your's, to hold out so long against an invader, and to
endure, for so many years, all the miseries of war.  I spoke but my own
feelings, therefore let not your anger be kindled against a poor
merchant, who would do nothing to offend you."

The Hadji's anger was as quickly appeased as it was easily excited, and
he regarded the Armenian more with feelings of the deepest contempt than
with any hostile thoughts.  The pedlar himself appeared to have
discovered that the most discreet conduct he could follow, was to keep
silence among the present company.

Appealing to the Prince, he craved leave to exhibit his goods to the
ladies of the family.

"I have but little to give for aught you may possess, merchant; yet as
the women love to look on fine silks and jewels, you may send in your
packages to the anderoon, and see if they will select any.  Go now, it
is late, they will soon retire to rest."

As the Armenian left the apartment, the Hadji glanced at him with a look
of disgust.  "For what should that slave talk to us of treating with the
Urus?" he cried; "one might think from his words that he was a friend of
theirs; but he is a craven-hearted slave, and not worth further
thought."

The principal part of the company now adjourned to the verandah in front
of the house, where they passed an hour in smoking the much prized
tchibouks.

Before they retired to rest, the pedlar returned, having disposed of
some of his silks to the ladies of the family.

"Your slave," he said, humbly addressing the Hadji, "hears that you and
some other noble chiefs are travelling towards the north to-morrow, and
it would be a high honour as well as a great kindness, if you would
allow him to accompany you."

"Do you fear, merchant, that your friends the Moscov would ease you of
your goods, if you happen to go near their forts?"  The pedlar started.
"But what care I? you may go with us if your pack horses can keep pace
with our steeds; but remember that we delay not for a few bales of
silk."

"Thanks, noble chiefs," replied the pedlar, bowing before them; "much
shall I prize your protection.  But do not say that the Russians are my
friends; I know them not, I hate them, I detest them, I spit upon them."

"You do well, man," replied the Hadji.  "But remember another time, that
if you talk of peace between the sons of the Atteghei and the Moscov,
while they remain on our coasts, you may chance to take a leap from a
higher rock than you would like."

"Your servant hears, and will follow your advice," replied the Armenian;
then turning to the Prince, he presented to him a richly jewelled
dagger.  "Perchance, as the noble Prince Mahmood will not purchase, he
will accept as a gift this dagger from his servant, to prove his love
for the Atteghei, and his hatred for the Moscov.  He will honour his
slave much by receiving it from his hands."

The Prince looked musingly at the dagger, which seemed of great value.

"Take back your gift, merchant," he said; "what Mahmood requires he can
purchase, and beware how you make such gifts.  They are too much like
the bribes the Urus offer to tempt traitorous hearts to join them.
Mahmood thanks you, but cannot accept your gift."

"Your slave would be more gratified if the Prince would take the
trifling gift.  He can repay it when he pleases."

"I thank you, merchant, but I have said I will not accept your gift,"
replied the Prince.  "Therefore take it back, and go in peace."

The Armenian, as desired, took the dagger, concealing it beneath the
folds of his dress, while the Prince whispered a few words into Achmet
Beg's ear.

The night being already far advanced, the party prepared for rest.
Slaves entered the guest-house, bringing cushions and coverlids of rich
silk, and spreading them on the floor, to form beds for the guests, on
which the voyagers gladly threw themselves to rest.

Seeing that every thing was arranged, their Princely host retired to a
part of the dwelling appropriated to himself.

The walls of the room were adorned by tablets with passages of the Koran
written on them, while the arms of the guests, with several suits of
rich armour, hung suspended around.  The internal ornaments afforded a
strong contrast to the primitive simplicity of the mansion, and to the
simple habits and customs of its inhabitants.  The manners of the
chiefs, however, were courteous and knightly, resembling all we hear of
the chivalry of the middle ages, or perhaps still more like the heroes
of ancient Greece.

The lower orders and serfs, also, are certainly less barbarous, and
perhaps more intelligent than the Scottish highlanders of the same class
a century ago, if it is necessary indeed to go back so far.

The next morning, the Uzden Achmet Beg assembled his followers, who had
been dispersed about the neighbouring hamlet for the night; and when it
was rumoured that the celebrated Hadji Guz Beg had returned from his
distant pilgrimage, and was about to take the field, with his hatred of
the Urus unabated, numbers of young men volunteered to join his
standard, leaving the old men and women to attend to their fields.
Achmet Beg indeed, though the head of his tribe, and a much respected
noble, had not gained that renown which his younger brother had acquired
by a long series of hazardous and daring exploits.  The latter,
therefore, was always preferred as a leader by the young and bold
spirits of their tribe, nor did the elder, who was of an unambitious,
quiet character, feel the slightest jealousy at his brother's superior
military abilities.

Ivan was overjoyed when he found with whom he had formed a friendship,
little thinking while aboard ship, where he had scarcely spoken on the
subject of war, that the sedate Hadji was the renowned warrior he on all
sides was acknowledged to be; and though he seemed somewhat to boast
among his friends of past deeds, and of others to be accomplished, it
was easy to see that it was not the vaunting of a pretender, by the
attention paid to his words.

A gallant array of cavaliers now assembled before the house of Prince
Mahmood; the chiefs in glittering suits of armour, some of highly
polished plates of steel, and others of finely worked chain, their
cloaks of varied colours, and swords girded to their sides, with richly
embossed handles.  The daggers in their belts were decorated in the same
manner.  Many carried pistols, and the greater number had also a long
rifle slung at their backs, thus mingling the weapons of ancient and
modern days.

Their retainers were armed, some with long guns, and others with long
bows, and quivers full of arrows, wearing in their belts short
double-edged swords, or rather daggers, and straight sabres by their
sides.

As Ivan issued from the house, he found a high-mettled steed waiting at
the door, held by Achmet Beg's squire.  The Hadji advanced as he
appeared, and leading the horse forward, presented it to him, saying:

"Let me be the first, my son, to provide you with a charger of the true
Atteghei breed, who well knows his way among the ranks of the Moscov;
and in case you do not like the gift, you can repay me when we have made
a foray into their country, and have carried off a rich booty.  Till
then, accept him from a father who loves you.  There are two others,
which count as nothing, for the use of your squire and page, though
perhaps not to be matched among the Cossacks of the plain."

Ivan, gratefully thanking him for his well-timed present, vaulted with
alacrity into the light saddle, Javis holding his stirrup, and then
following his example.  Young Conrin also shewed himself no mean
horseman, leaping lightly on his small, but well proportioned and active
steed.

The whole party were prepared to set forth, when the aged prince himself
appeared, tendering to each guest of noble rank a parting stirrup cup of
mead; for such is the knightly custom, still adhered to in that
primitive country.

"May the blessings of Allah attend you, my sons!" said the aged
chieftain; "may your arms be victorious over our enemies, and may death
fly from your ranks.  Would that I too had strength to lead my followers
to the field; but while my gallant sons yet exist to take my place, I
must remain to guard our lands from the foe.  Should it be the will of
Allah that they fall, then I too must gird on my sword, and yield my
last breath amid the din of battle.  Now Heaven protect you, my sons!"

The venerable Prince, grasping the hand of each chief as in turn they
rode by, the cavalcade set forward.  As they issued from the court-yard
of their konag, the cry of "Ogmaff! ogmaff! farewell! farewell!"
resounded on all sides from the assembled retainers and slaves of the
chief; and loud shouts of "Vo-ri-va-ka," rent the air, as a parting
salute to the warriors who were sallying forth to defend their country.

They set forward at a brisk pace, Ivan keeping by the side of the Hadji,
who pointed out to him each scene of note as they advanced, explaining
to him the Circassian style of fighting, and other subjects of interest
and importance.

In the rear of their ranks, came the Armenian merchant and his pack
horses, light active animals, formed of bone and sinew alone, who
continued to keep up with the high-mettled steeds of the warriors,
though the ground was rough and hilly.  Their route lay across a
country, wild as if no other foot had trodden it save the beasts of the
forest; now over the edge of dizzy precipices, then descending into
savage glens and through dark and frightful defiles, amid gigantic
rocks, bared, broken, and distorted into a thousand strange forms.

Then again they had to scale some lofty elevation, amid splendid
forest trees, where a platform of rich ground would be found,
highly-cultivated, and far removed from the reach of their enemies.
Occasionally they saw, amid the almost inaccessible recesses of the
mountains, some Alpine cot, whose skin-clad inhabitant was tending his
flocks of goats.

As they rode along, game of various sorts, such as wild turkeys,
pheasants, hares, and deer, would start up in their path, to which some
of the party gave chase, and either ran down or shot with their
true-aimed arrows.  As they were passing through a rocky defile, an
immense wild boar started up in their path.

"A fortunate omen for our next expedition," shouted the Hadji.  "Now, my
Deli Khans, let us give chase to the huge monster as we would to the
savage Urus."

Uttering these words, and with the spirit and agility of youth, spurring
on his horse, followed by Ivan and the younger men of the party, he rode
at the beast, who, gnashing his long tusks in defiance as he turned his
head towards them, first endeavoured to escape among the rocks, when he
saw the number of his foes.  The Hadji was, however, too quick for him;
and the boar, seeing escape from his active pursuers was hopeless, stood
at bay.  Grinning at them with his sharp teeth, and foaming with fury,
he prepared to rush at the headmost of his opponents; but, nothing
daunted, the aged, but active huntsman rode directly at him, and leaning
from his saddle, plunged a short sword deep into the thick neck of the
animal, who made a last desperate attempt to rip up the horse of his
opponent; but the Hadji, making his steed spring on one side, the fierce
beast rolled over, and expired without a struggle.

Shouts of applause, from those of his friends who had come up to the
scene of action, followed this dexterous feat of the old warrior.

"Bosh! it is nothing," he exclaimed.  "I did it but to ascertain if my
eye had lost its quickness, or my arm its nerve; but, praises be to
Allah, neither of them is the worse for my long rest."

The carcase of the boar was left to feed the beasts of the mountain,
less scrupulous than the followers of Mahomet; though in truth, few of
the Circassian mountaineers are very strict observers of the tenets of
his religion, nor would object, if hard pressed, to a slice of the
unclean animal.

"We will soon find more noble game than this," said the Hadji, turning
to Ivan, who had arrived as the boar received his death stroke; "and you
will become both a good huntsman and a good warrior.  But Inshallah! the
first is only fit sport for boys or young men, when there are no enemies
to be met with; and I did it but to stretch my sinews a little after my
voyage."

The whole party now proceeded through a deep and romantic glen, where
scarcely a breath stirred the light festoons of creeping plants which
hung from the rocks above.  All seemed solemn and sad; when Achmet Beg's
followers struck into a low chaunting song, describing the actions of
some chief who had fallen lately, fighting against the Russians.  The
whole party joined in a rich and full chorus; the sounds of Ay-a-ri-ra
swelling and dying away among the ravines and far distant glades of the
mountain forest.

Ascending a lofty eminence, crowned by trees, they emerged from their
shelter, when a view was obtained of the sea below them, and of the fort
of Ghelendjik, far to the north, built on one side of a deep bay.
Stretching far beyond it was a long line of white cliffs.  As the party
of warriors gazed on it, expressions of execration burst from their
lips, and the Hadji looked anxiously down a steep pathway leading to the
shore, by which he might have gained the outside of the fort; but
feeling the uselessness of the wish, he merely contented himself with
muttering--

"The piggish cowards!  Let us but meet them beyond their walls and
without their cannon, and we will soon teach them better manners than to
pay us a visit without an invitation."

It struck the chiefs as singular, that they had met none of the
sentinels, who watch every height along the coast in the neighbourhood
of an enemy.

"The men of Hyderbey were not wont to be sluggards at their posts!"
exclaimed the Hadji to his brother.  "How is it that they do not watch
these heights?"

"Perhaps they have gone nearer to our foes," replied the chief, "to
shoot any who may show their faces above the walls of their fort."

The scene below them seemed calm and quiet.  A few white sails of
Russian vessels, alone dotted the smooth bosom of the Euxine.  In the
fort all was so quiet, that it looked like a deserted mound of earth.
The roofs of the buildings scarcely peered above the walls; and the
proud standard of Russia was hardly distinguishable, as it hung
listlessly round its staff.

Not a breath stirred the air, and deep silence reigned on the calm
scene, when, in a moment, it was broken by the loud crash of artillery,
followed by the continued reports of musketry, far above which rose the
loud war shriek of the Atteghei.

"Allah be praised, here is work for us, my friends, without delay!"
exclaimed the gallant Hadji, in a joyous tone, "Bismillah! we will be
upon them when they little expect us, and aid our friends, whoever they
are.  Follow me, brave warriors."

So saying, he spurred on his charger, with his brother and Ivan by his
side, followed by the rest of the band, and galloped, by an almost
precipitous path, down the wooded sides of the hill.  They passed many a
rocky ravine, and dry bed of winter torrents, tearing their way with
eager haste through the boughs and thick underwood.  Nothing could stop
their course.

Volume 2, Chapter VII.

We have, in a previous chapter, attempted to describe the romantic and
pastoral beauty of the coast of Circassia, as viewed from the sea.  We
must now transport our readers to a scene of even loftier grandeur, and
more surpassing loveliness.

On the southern side of a high mountain, thickly clothed with the varied
foliage of magnificent trees, some two or three hundred feet from the
base, was a broad and extended plateau or terrace, terminating on one
side by a steep precipice, while on the other the mountain rose in
majestic grandeur, from the side of which, amid the trees, projected
rocky crags of fantastic shapes, partly covered with the slender
tendrils of creeping plants.  Down the mountain's slope sparkled a
bright cascade, leaping from rock to rock, here hidden from sight by
some overhanging trees or jutting cliff, and there appearing more clear
and joyous than before, till it fell in a spray-wreathed column into a
bason, from which it meandered through the small plain of the plateau,
fertilising in its course several highly-cultivated fields, till it
again fell in a shower of foam over the sides of the precipice, into a
beautifully green and broad valley below; there joining the pure waters
of a rapid rivulet, which brawled over its rocky bed in its course
towards the sea, through the winding gorge of the valley.

Towards the east, as far as the eye could reach, appeared hills and
mountains of every form; some swelling in gentle undulations, and
covered with fields of corn or green pastures, where grazed numerous
flocks and herds; some clothed to their lofty summits with magnificent
forests, and others again rising in steep, rugged, and barren
abruptness.  Above all were seen blue ridges of mountains, rising one
beyond the other; first clear and defined, and then growing more
indistinct and faint, till lost in the azure tint of the sky.  In the
same direction, the terrace extended for some way, gradually narrowing
till it merged in the steep sides of the mountain.  Some well cultivated
high ground of no great elevation, rose on the opposite side of the
valley, which, in the direction of the sea, narrowed into a deep ravine,
taking an abrupt turn, with precipitous and insurmountable sides.  The
sea face of the mountains which formed it, could be trodden by none but
the light-footed goat, or the almost equally active and daring
mountain-hunters.

It was, in truth, a situation well calculated to secure a retreat, and
to form a fortification against any hostile invader, if protected by a
few brave and resolute men; and on that account, it had been selected as
a location by the gallant chief of a once numerous tribe, who had been
driven by the Russians from his former hereditary possessions.

His residence stood just within sound of the refreshing cascade, whose
pure waters flowed before his door.  The house was surrounded by farm
yards, well-stocked with every species of domestic animal, and every
kind of poultry.  Well-planted orchards formed part of the homestead;
and the trees in them were now loaded with fruit.

The dwelling consisted of several separate buildings, of the usual style
of Circassian architecture; but one was arranged with more care and
attention than the others.  This was the anderoon, or house appropriated
to the women; it was separated from the others by a paling, which,
however, was not sufficiently high to obscure the prospect.  The front
looked down the lovely valley, over many a rocky hill and cliff, beyond
which, in the distance, was the bright blue sea.  Before it extended a
verandah, round whose trellised supports many creeping plants had been
trained; their slender tendrils bearing sweet-smelling flowers, which
hung in graceful festoons from the top.

But it was in the interior that the brightest gem of the casket was to
be found.  On a cushion of rich silk, was seated, gazing through the
open door, a young girl, lovely as one of Eve's fairest daughters.  Her
eyes, of the deepest blue and of dazzling lustre, shaded with long dark
silky eyelashes, were gazing upon the picturesque view before her; her
delicate carnation lips were slightly parted, disclosing her pearly
teeth.  Her features were perfectly regular; and the fair complexion of
her gently rounded cheeks was almost imperceptibly tinged with a roseate
hue.  Her raven hair fastened by a silken band over her forehead, fell
in a long plait behind, and from her head a veil of white gauze scarcely
shrouded her graceful and slender figure.  The robe she wore was of blue
silk, trimmed with silver; her full white muslin trousers were confined
with a richly worked girdle, which encircled her waist; and small
slippers of coloured leather, beautifully worked in arabesque patterns
with silver, completed her attire.

By her side lay an embroidered belt, at which she apparently had been
working, as the golden thread still hung, unconsciously, in her slender
fingers.

At a short distance from this lovely creature, sat a little girl, busily
occupied in spinning; whose small, quick, piercing eyes, and dark
irregular features, shewed her to be not of Circassian race; a slave
taken, probably in some predatory excursion, from the Calmuck Tartars.
As she pursued her occupation, she turned at times her quick glance
towards her young mistress, as if with an endeavour to catch her eye,
but without avail; and she seemed fearful of arousing her from her
meditations, whatever might be their nature.

A tame kid of snowy whiteness was gambolling before the door; till,
grown bold by impunity, it bounded into the room.  But even the pretty
animal's playful antics did not rouse her; and the little maiden
diligently plied her work, despairing of recalling the thoughts of her
lady, to the affairs of the present moment.

At length the sound of a distant footstep approaching the dwelling,
caught her ear, she started from the reverie.  "Run, Buda, run!" she
cried, in tones of silvery sweetness, "haste, maiden! and see who
approaches; but whoever they may be, stop them from coming here.  Say I
can see no one to-day; I am ill at ease; I should weep to see strangers.
Shew them to the guest room, but not here.  Say I would see friends
another day, but I cannot now.  Go, child."

The little girl was flying to obey these mandates, when the young beauty
stooped for a moment, in the attitude of listening.  "Stay, Buda, stay;
it is useless.  My fears have made me fanciful.  Those are my father's
footsteps.  Haste, Buda, to usher him to my apartment."

While she spoke, the subject of her meditations appeared at the entrance
of the apartment, ushered in, according to etiquette, by the youthful
slave.  As he entered, he bowed low, his lofty plumed helmet touching
the door-sill, and as his graceful daughter rose from her silken
cushions to receive and welcome him, he folded her in a tender embrace.

He was a warrior of commanding and majestic stature, clothed in complete
armour.  His coat of mail richly inlaid with gold, shone brightly with
steel of the highest polish.  His curling dark moustache and beard were
yet untinged by any of the hues which betoken the approach of age,
though his stern and fine features were marked with many furrows,
indicating deep thought and numerous cares.  He raised from his head his
glittering helm, which his daughter respectfully took and placed by her
side, as he seated himself on the ottoman and beckoned her to sit near
him.

"It is long, my father," said the fair girl, "since I have rejoiced in
the light of your presence; and oh, what pleasure do you bring to me
when you come!  I was before sad and thoughtful, and now I feel light
and happy.  Say, what has kept you so long away?"

"My own sweet Ina," answered the chieftain, "in these times of war and
of constant peril, I have many things to attend to; and it does not
become a warrior to spare many moments from his duties, even though he
spend them in soft intercourse with one so loved as you, my child.  I
have even but now returned from mustering the small remnant of the
faithful followers whom his foes have left to Arslan Gherrei; to see
that they are well supplied with arms, horses and food, for a campaign.
But why, Ina, were you just now, so sad and thoughtful?"

"Oh do not ask me, my father! now that I am again happy," replied the
daughter.  "I did but for a moment feel somewhat ill, and feared that
guests were coming whom I did not wish to receive.  I am well again, my
father, now that you are with me."

"I have matter of importance to communicate to you," said the chief,
"you know Ina, that I so love you, that for all the riches of the mighty
Padishah of the Osmanlis, I would not part from you; but yet, sweet one,
the stern necessity of war compels me to leave you, and I must haste to
join the hosts of my countrymen to repel our invaders.  I may perchance
fall, and leave you unprotected."

"Do not say so, my father," cried the lovely Ina.  "Surely heaven will
protect us, as it has done before.  But why this sudden haste?  Stay but
some short time longer with me, and among your fields and retainers.
Nothing can have happened to call you so quickly away."

"It may not be, dear daughter.  Now listen to my words.  I have already
told you that the valiant Khan, the noble Khoros Kaloret, has seen you--
that he loves you.  He is rich and brave; hundreds of retainers obey his
commands and follow him to battle.  He has numerous slaves who till his
fields; rich pastures on which large herds of cattle graze; innumerable
flocks wander over his mountains, while none can boast of finer horses
or richer armour.  What more can I say of him?  He has sent his brother,
who has just arrived, as an envoy to demand you in marriage, and I have
spoken much to him.  He says that he loves you, truly and deeply--that
he would sacrifice half his possessions to gain you.  Nay, tremble not,
loved one.  You know that horses, cattle, or the richest armour, are but
as nought compared to you--that I would give all I have for your sake;
but yet in this time of war, when any moment may lay me low, I would
find some gallant protector who would shield you from danger; that when
I am in the land of the blessed spirits, I may look down and see my
child happy.  Many there are who would be to me as a son, and would
gladly accept your hand and succeed to my possessions; but none appear
to win my Ina's heart.  Say, will my child become the bride of the
Khan?"

"Oh my father, indeed, indeed, I feel your kind and generous conduct,"
exclaimed Ina, with feeling and animation.  "Where other fathers do not
consult their daughters' wishes, you willingly yield to mine.  I too
have seen the Khan, but I would not be his bride; I cannot dream of love
for one like him.  For your sake, my father, I would wed whom you
wished; but still he should be one whom you too could love, who would
obey, and follow you as a son.  Ah! that Allah had made me one, that I
might follow you to the battle, and share your dangers and your
victories.  If I were to wed this Khan, I should see you no more; I
should be carried far away to his mountain home, distant from the sounds
of war and strife, when you would be left alone without a child to
attend you, when sick or wounded; or should you return victorious, none
would be in your home to offer you a joyous welcome.  Oh, my father! let
me still remain your daughter; let me remain to tend your household and
your flocks, if you will not let me go with you.  But oh! how much
rather than become the wife of the richest noble, would I follow you to
the field, to cheer you in the camp, to dress your food, to be your page
and attendant.  This I can do."

"Alas! my daughter, I cannot leave you here, for I must take all the
followers that I can muster to the field.  I have now so few, that I
cannot leave enough to guard our home; and should our invaders gain the
entrance of this pass, my house and fields must fall a prey to them.
Then, my Ina, would you not be more safe and happy as the wife of a
powerful chief, with thousands of warriors to fight under his banner,
than to be following me amid the toils of a campaign?"

"No, oh no," replied the daughter.  "I do not, I cannot love the Khan;
he is brave, but fierce, noble, and cruel; his followers obey him more
through fear than love.  His very features bespeak his character; he is
no true son of the Atteghei, and I would wed none but a scion of the
true stock.  Oh, tell the Khan's brother, that you cannot part from me;
that I am your only child, your successor; that I am not worthy of the
Khan's thoughts; that Circassia has many maidens far more prized than I.
Oh! say that you will do so, and restore happiness to your daughter's
heart.  It was the thought of this that made me sad and ill."

The Chieftain gazed at his daughter with a glance of deep affection;
yet, for a moment, the customs of his country seemed contending with his
love.  Nature, however, triumphed over habit.

"I will do as you will, my Ina," he cried, clasping her in his arms.  "I
will send word to the proud Khan that even he cannot melt the icy heart
of my child.  Nay, do not weep, my daughter; you shall not leave me
against your will for a stranger's care."

"Thanks, thanks, my father," exclaimed Ina, affectionately returning his
embrace.  "You have restored peace and joy to my heart, and gladly will
I prepare to accompany you to the camp."

"That cannot be," replied the chief.  "Your delicate frame is but ill
prepared to share the hardships of a warrior's life; but your safety
shall be better cared for, and I will bestow you with the family of my
kinsman, the noble chief Aitek Tcherei.  His lands are far removed from
danger, among the rocky fastnesses of the mountains; and yet, so near
the camp, that a quick-footed messenger, may reach it on the second day.
Thither will I conduct you, Ina, ere I seek the field; and there, with
a companion of your own age, you will be safe and happy.  To-morrow
after the sun has risen, prepare to accompany me, with your women and
slaves; I must now away to the guest-house, to give your message to the
young Khan Besin Kaloret, who is eagerly expecting an answer; and were
it not for his oath of peace, methinks the proud Tartar Khan would ill
brook a refusal.  And now, Ina, farewell, till to-morrow's morn, when I
will meet you with my retainers to guard you on your way."

The Chieftain arose, again bestowing an affectionate embrace on his
child, as she presented him with his casque.  He replaced it on his
head, and quitted the chamber, attended by his daughter to the door.
She followed him with her eyes, till he reached the entrance of the
guest-house; when returning to her couch, she placed her hands before
her face, and gave way to her overcharged feelings, in a flood of tears.

The little slave Buda gazed with astonishment, to see her mistress so
overcome with distress; she approached her with concern.

"Oh, my dear mistress! why do you weep?" she cried.

Ina looked up at the little girl, with an affectionate and grateful eye.
"I weep not through pain, Buda, but that I am a weak, foolish girl,
unworthy, some would say, to be a maiden of Circassia, where all ought
to be brave and bold.  I weep, because I may not share my father's
dangers, and that I may never again see him, or hear his voice.  I weep
too, for joy, that he so loves me, that he will not part from me.  But I
must not give way to thoughts like these, or my tears will not cease
flowing.  I must nerve my soul to bear all that may happen, with the
courage of a daughter of the Atteghei, if I have not the strength of her
sons.  Now haste, Buda, we have much to do, to prepare for our journey.
Summon the women from the fields, tell them that we must leave our home;
bid them hasten to prepare our goods and furniture for our journey.  Go,
good Buda, go."

As the little slave ran off to obey her mistress's behests, the pet-kid
again gambolled within the door of the room, and ran bleating to its
fair guardian, looking up with its soft eyes full of affection, to her
face.  She bent down, and took it up in her arms.  "Ah! my little
plaything, and you too, I must see for the last time; perchance, no more
shall I look upon your pretty gambols; no more will you come to be fed
by my hand.  When I am gone, you will wander wild among the mountains,
with no roof to shelter you, and miss the care of your mistress, or a
more sad fate, perhaps, be driven into the hands of those worse than
wolves, our greedy invaders.  Farewell, pretty one! give one more look
with those soft eyes, and then go, forget me, and be happy among the
wild flocks of your kind."

The little animal, as if understanding her words, or the tone of her
voice, ceased its frolicsome play, and seemed unwilling to quit her
side.

The whole household was kept the rest of the day in a state of bustle
and activity.  The women were busily employed in making packages of all
the light and easily moved valuables of the family; every one being too
well prepared for the necessity of such a movement.  Ina herself
attended, to see that the tasks were properly performed; for a
Circassian maiden, even of the highest rank, does not consider it a
degradation to attend to her household affairs, but rather an honour to
be so employed.

Volume 2, Chapter VIII.

The chieftain, Arslan Gherrei, was one of the bravest of the nobles of
Circassia.  He was generous in his behaviour, courteous in his manners,
and temperate in the extreme; but there was a melancholy in his
countenance, almost approaching to sternness.  He kept aloof from his
countrymen, except in the council of war or the scene of strife, where
his advice was respected, and his standard followed with alacrity.  At
their banquets and scenes of conviviality and amusement, he was scarcely
ever to be found, preferring rather his domestic hearth and the society
of his daughter.

Such was the father of the beautiful Ina, the devoted patriot, the
champion of Circassia; but as we shall have occasion to refer, at a
future time, to the particulars of his history, we will now follow his
steps to his guest-house, where the young noble, the brother of the
Tartar Khan Khoros Kaloret, was anxiously waiting his return with Ina's
answer to his brother's proposal of marriage; not dreaming that it was
possible any maiden of Circassia could refuse so noble an offer.

The young Khan, who was seated on the divan at the further end of the
apartment, attended by his squire, rose as the chieftain entered.  He
was a tall, hard-featured youth, of herculean frame, clothed from head
to foot in chain armour, over which he wore a dark cloak of thick cloth;
his head was guarded by a helmet, or rather cap, of iron, trimmed round
the edge with a thick fur border, giving to his face rather a ferocious
appearance, which his overhanging and scowling brow did not belie.  By
his side hung a ponderous two-edged sword, the handle richly embossed
with gold and ornamented with jewels, as was the poniard at his belt.
His other weapons, as well as those of his squire, hung against the wall
over his head.

His squire was without armour of any sort; but his cap was of the same
coloured fur as his master's; and his dress of dark cloth fitted closely
to his figure.  This man was of shorter stature than the Khan, and thick
set, with the same disagreeable, forbidding cast of features.  The Khan
seemed eager for the chieftain's reply, though he tried to conceal his
anxiety; but before either of them spoke, his host, motioning him to
resume his seat, took a place on a cushion opposite to him, waiting for
his guest to commence the conversation.

"Noble Uzden, what answer does the bright dawn of day send to my gallant
brother?  Will she be the queen of his anderoon, and the future mother
of our noble race?  When will she be prepared to meet my brother on her
road to his home, and when shall I again come with a large company of
our retainers, such as befits her rank and beauty, decked in bridal
array to bear her away to the longing arms of her spouse?"

"It cannot be," answered the chieftain, gravely, "I speak not with
disdain of the noble Khan, your brother, but my daughter is to me as my
son; and not even to him, for all the riches of Stamboul, will I part
with her against her wish.  Ina is still young, and loves me as a son
would.  Tell your noble brother that she will yet remain with her
father; that she is the only bright jewel I cherish; that I value her
more than the richest armour, or steeds of the purest race.  There are
other maidens of the Atteghei, gladly willing to cheer your brother's
home--willing to be the mother of his sons, brave and warlike as their
father; may Allah send joy to his house! but my daughter cannot be his
bride.  It is enough, Khan, I have given my answer."

The brow of the young Besin Khan grew darker at these words.  "Must I
then go back to my brother with such an answer as this?  Must I go tell