A SORRY PLIGHT. Ill 



more painfully reminded that we were in 

 Svanetia. 



An unpleasant kind of moisture — half rain, 

 half snow — was falling, our weary horses 

 stumbled at every step, our limbs were sore 

 and ached, and as for our appetites, I know of 

 no word strong enough to use in describing 

 them. In this plight we rode into a kind of 

 yard amongst the houses of Mulach, and sent 

 out a messenger with our letters of intro- 

 duction to find us shelter and a dinner ; but 

 the Elder was away from the village — Elders 

 in Svanetia always are ; no one else could 

 read, and the only two houses which still con- 

 tained a light and waking inhabitants showed 

 anything but a hospitable or friendly spirit 

 towards us. 



So we stood, the centre of a hungry pack 



of dogs, who kept skirmishmg round our 



' calves in a way to make us shudder, while 



lirst one messenger then another came back to 



