230 CASUALS IN THE CAUCASUS 



in the west veiled their glories in banks of filmy 

 clouds. 



It was late afternoon, when, after crossing the Terek 

 by an iron bridge, we rolled into the mountain hollow 

 where the Georgian village of Kasbek lies, ii,ooo feet 

 below the mountain giant of the name, whose snowy 

 cone is 16,533 above sea-level. 



In the days of Georgian supremacy Kasbek was 

 known as Mkiunvari, the Ice Mountain, and the village 

 as Stephan's-minda, St. Stephen's, but since the 

 advent of the Russians the poetical synonyms have 

 died out, and the peak, the village, and the district 

 generally are known as Kasbek, the name of a princely 

 family of the region. 



The post-house looked very civilized, and the little 

 village, too, quite pretentious with make-believe 

 streets ending in ads-de-sac, and curious old square 

 towers to some of the houses, relics of the lively days 

 before the Muscovite occupation, when the tribes lived 

 in a state of perpetual alarms and forays. 



We had hoped to find Mount Kasbek clear of the 

 mist which veiled its summit, and as the postmaster 

 held out certain prospects of a dispersal we decided to 

 halt for the night and wait the longed-for transforma- 

 tion. The clouds envelop the mountain, our host told 

 us, all through the heat of the day, but a northerly 

 wind clears away the vapour like magic. 



We had tea, brewing it in our httle teapot, English- 

 fashion, drinking it from cups, and adding condensed 

 milk, to the interest of a trio of Russian ladies awaiting 

 a change of horses. They would taste the concoction. 



