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JOURNEY RESUMED-CHANGE OF CLIMATE.

after much entreaty both from myself and Mrs. P. he said we might take it. But when our servant had put it nearly in readiness to proceed, the officer came out and ordered it to be put back again among the prohibited boxes. Tired of being thus tantalized, and glad to escape, on any condition, we then went on, leaving Takvoor and our passports behind. We rode twelve miles, across the plain which stretches to the eastward of Gümry, and stopped at the small village of Hamân for the night.

Aug. 7. We started at daybreak, our course now changing to east by south and south-east, and continuing in the same general direction all the remaining part of our journey. In the absence of Takvoor, our Persian servant, a singularly energetic fellow for an Asiatic, assumed the prerogative of dictating, and would not allow the muleteers to stop short of the village of Aberân, making a ride of near forty miles. Mrs. P. was very tired when we reached our tent, having been on her horse all day, except that in one instance when she had nearly fainted from fatigue, she lay down a few minutes by the road-side. About half of our ride, to-day, lay across the Alagéz range of mountains, and the air was cool and delightful. The higher peaks, on our right, were capped with eternal snow. Descending the mountain, we entered a valley which runs directly toward the celebrated convent of Echmiadzen-the ecclesiastical metropolis of the Armenians. Late in the evening, Takvoor reached us, stating that the custom-house officer would not give up the passports, until 9 o'clock, A. M., nor then, short of T's giving him five dollars for a paper, certifying that the things which we took with us had been examined, and a valuable cap, from his own head, as a friendly memento!

Aug. 8. We started at 4 o'clock in the morning, and the Persian servant again going forward, did not stop with our tent until he reached Erivân,-a distance even greater than we travelled yesterday. We were on our horses eleven hours. Soon after starting this morning, we crossed a small stream which runs down the valley that we entered yesterday; we then rose and passed over broken elevations, and gradually descended to the river Zengy, which is an out-let of lake Sevân, and like all the streams that we had passed after leaving Erzróom, is a tributary of the Arrás. It runs near the city of Erivân, has high steep banks, and a very rapid angry current, though it is only about seventy feet wide where we crossed it by a fine stone bridge. Rising from this river, we passed over a commanding hill, which was gratefully crowned with several charming, thrifty orchards; and from this elevation, we descended, by a long circuitous road, to the town of Erivân, which lies at its southern base far down on the plain below. The change of climate, in descending, was surprising,-quite like going from a temperate into the torrid zone. We had left the cool mountain air which we had so long inhaled, on the lofty heights of Armenia, and found ourselves suddenly transported to the almost suffocating sultriness

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of a tropical sun. Though Erivân was long the capital of ancient Armenia, the city and its surrounding villages are altogether Persian in appearance. The subterranean, stone-walled houses remained back in the cold regions to which they were adapted; and here, the dwellings are of mud walls, or sun-dried brick, built above the ground and neatly plastered over on the outside, with a mixture of mud and straw. Indeed, Erivân is Persian, in its inhabitants and character; and, till the war of 1828, it was a part of the Persian empire. In its markets, we were greeted with an ample abundance of fine ripe fruit; and we indulged ourselves as soon as possible and as long as we dared, with apples, apricots, plums, grapes and watermelons. During our ride to-day, the lofty, hoary Ararat was in full view to the south and south-west. Never before had I beheld an object of such impressive sublimity. This mountain is altogether unique in its appearance, rising like a mighty pyramid from the general range and gradually tapering till it pierces and peers above the clouds. It is between sixteen and seventeen thousand feet high. Little Ararat near it rises modestly like its junior to about the height of 13,000 feet. Though we were sixty or seventy miles distant from the venerable mountain, in the morning, it appeared to be within five or six miles of us, and as familiar from my previous conceptions of it, or from some inexplicable cause, as an old acquaintance. It rises from a majestic curve, in the great range, a sublime corner boundary of the three empires of Persia, Turkey and Russia, and full worthy to be the bridge between the antediluvian and postdiluvian worlds.

CHAPTER VIII.

JOURNEY FROM ERIVAN TO TABREEZ.

Erivân is a town that figures in both Armenian and Persian history. It was, for a considerable period, the capital of Armenia. At present it is unwalled and apparently in a state of decay. It is supposed to contain about twenty thousand inhabitants, one third of whom may be Armenians. There is an imposing citadel, on a hill of moderate elevation about a quarter of a mile south of the town, bordering also on the river Zengy, whose high, abrupt banks add much to its apparent strength. Prince Abbas Meerza hardly made his escape from this citadel, in 1828, when Erivân fell into the hands of the Russians.

The great plain of Erivân and the valley of the Arrás below, be

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VALLEY OF THE ARRAS-ARMENIAN PRIEST.

ing hemmed in by the elevations which I have described on the north, and the Ararat mountain range on the west, have in summer a singular concentration of heat, and a mild climate, for that region, during the whole year. The country extending from Erivan to Nakchevân, a distance of a hundred miles, is beautiful, and the soil is extremely fertile. Its fruits are very abundant and excellent; but, as in most such countries, the climate is very unhealthy. The poor Armenians, who were enticed into those provinces by the Russians, from their more healthy homes in Turkey and Persia, have died in great numbers. And the pale, sickly survivors would gladly exchange their present situation for the rigor of their former vassalage to Muhammedans, could they evade Russian vigilance and effect their escape.

Immediately after our arrival at Erivân, I despatched Takvoor to the governor with our Russian passport. Just at evening, his Excellency sent for my American passport, stating that he had an Armenian priest with him who could read English.

Aug. 9. The priest called on me in the morning, and remained most of the forenoon. He learned our language in his childhood, at the English Philanthropic academy, as he styled it, in India. He speaks, reads and writes the language very well, is intelligent on general subjects, and is indeed quite English in his character. He expressed deep regret for the ignorance of the clergy of his nation, and an ardent desire that they might become enlightened. On his mentioning bishop Heber, as having known him in India, I put into his hands Heber's Missionary Hymn, which he read aloud with great apparent satisfaction. I asked him whether he and his church are looking for the conversion of the whole heathen world. "Yes," he answered, "I pray for it every day." He is acquainted with the Rev. Mr. Dittrich of Tiflis, expressed the highest confidence in him, and said that the Armenians are under much obligation to that missionary for his valuable translations and preparation of books in their language. This priest is a relative of the Armenian bishop Nérses, whom the Russian government have exiled from Georgia, being afraid of the enlightening and reforming influence of that celebrated prelate; and he possesses, I think, much of Nérses' spirit. He is at the head of the Imperial Armenian school at Erivân, and were he not too near Echmiadzin, he might exert a most salutary influence on his nation. He urged me to visit that convent, but I had not time. The monks there are able to furnish their visitors with pieces of Noah's ark, for five or ten dollars a splinter, each perhaps two inches long, and smaller ones for a less sum, which they can aver to have been integral parts of the ship of the patriarch, with about the same degree of honesty, assurance and probability, with which they practise many other impositions and retail the mass of their traditions.

In the course of the forenoon, the dragoman of the governor returned our passports, with his Excellency's signature, as he said,

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upon them, and added, that all was correct. The priest translated my American passport into Russian, and a police officer retained. the translation.

Our unanticipated expenses, arising from long detention in quarantine and other circumstances attending our circuitous route, had nearly exhausted my purse. I stated the fact to our Persian servant and asked him what we should do. He soon wandered away to the bazár and conducted to our tent a Persian merchant, from Tabréez, who was an entire stranger to the servant, as well as to myself, but was still ready to lend me as much money and for as long a period, as I wished, with no other security than my promissory note, written in English, not a word of which he could understand. This implicit confidence, in a foreigner and a stranger, is but a fair illustration of the unlimited credit of the English, in the East; for my servant had announced me to the merchant as an Englishman, our nationality as Americans being then hardly known in Persia. I borrowed fifty dollars of him which I paid some weeks afterward, on his presenting my note at 'T'abréez. The Persians, for obvious reasons, will never confide in each other in that manner.

But

We started about 3 o'clock in the afternoon and rode twelve miles, in a direction a little to the eastward of Ararat. The weather was extremely warm. In the evening, the silvery rays of the moon were reflected across the great plain, from the snowy summit of the sacred mountain. I walked around our tent some time, inhaled the balmy breeze and enjoyed much in reflecting where I was,-perhaps upon the very spot where Noah had reared an altar. these reflections were rendered painfully interesting, by a thought of the moral death-shade, that now enshrouds this beautiful country and hallowed mountain. On the north and east sides of Ararat are Armenians and Muhammedans. The former, though nominal Christians, are groping in a darkness well nigh as appalling as that which covers the latter. On the south and west, are Koords and Yezîdées. The former are the Jellalées, the same frightful marauders from whom we had fled; and like most of the Koords, they are Muhammedans; while the Yezîdées pay a kind of superstitious homage to the devil. When will this fair and sacred inheri tance become the garden of the Lord?

Aug. 10. We started at 4 o'clock in the morning. Mrs. Perkins, myself and Takvoor rode on a little before the muleteers, and crossed the plain to the west, to visit the renowned Armenian church and the prison of St. Gregory, at Khorviráb. We there came very near the base of Mt. Ararat. The river Arrás (ancient Araxes,) only rolled between us and the mountain. The upper part-about one third of the whole-was covered with snow, at this hot season, which appeared very deep and smooth, as though never ruffled by the track of man, beast or bird. Mrs. Perkins hastily sketched it from this near view, and the sketch I give to the reader. Its aspect

132

CAVE OF THE ILLUMINATOR.

from the east is far more bold, beautiful and symmetrical than on the western side along which I have since repeatedly travelled.

We descended into the cave, in the rock, where the Illuminator, Gregory, at the commencement of his labors for the conversion of the Armenians, is said to have been imprisoned. The cave is about thirty feet deep, and, most of the way, so small that a person can but with difficulty descend by a ladder. At the bottom, it widens to nearly the size of a common room. A host of Armenians of both sexes, followed us down, and exhibited the most disgusting superstition,-kissing the floor and walls, weeping and praying to the saint. In the church near by, some were engaged in heartless worship, and others were cooking in a porch and selling provisions at the door.

We expected, when we started in the morning, to make our circuit back, to the Nakchevân road, on the east side of the plain, in season to intercept our muleteers, and had therefore given them no direction respecting the distance they should travel, before stopping. But we found ourselves deceived in the width of the great plain, and when we reached Davalée, the village where we intended to halt for the night, we found that the muleteers had gone on. We had now rode eight hours in the scorching sun. Takvoor had lingered, back upon the plain, for a tired dog which he was conducting to Tabréez for an English gentleman. And twelve miles lay before us to another village, and as it proved, without a drop of water on the road. After consulting, a few moments, we concluded that it was better to proceed, though weary and alone, than to be separated from our muleteer, servant, tent and beds. On the way, we met two Persian merchants. Being very thirsty, we inquired for water, and they gave us a green cucumber. We reached a village, near sunset, not doubting that we should there overtake our muleteer, but found that he had passed this village also, and the next was several miles ahead. Completely tired out, we could go no further. Whether Takvoor would reach us, that night, remained to be seen. I found it very difficult to make myself at all understood, so different is the Turkish spoken there from the dialect of Constantinople of which I had acquired a smattering.* Nearly all the men in the village gathered around and gazed upon us as objects of curiosity. We at length so far succeeded as to make them understand, that we were very thirsty, hungry and tired. The agá, (master,) whom the villagers dignified with the title of Sûltán,† (captain,) and laughed at

*The Turkish spoken in Georgia and northern Persia, is more strictly Tartar, or rather, it is the purer Turkish, as originally spoken around and beyond the Caspian Sea. It differs widely from that spoken at Constantinople, which, in being cultivated, has ingrafted upon the old stock so many Arabic and Persian words and idioms, as essentially to change its original character.

In Persia and Georgia this word means captain in military rank.