490 THE CRIxMEA. 



The road to Simferopol continues along the coast as far 

 as Alushta — then turns inland, and crosses a well- wooded 

 ridge of 3,000 feet, a spur of Tchatyr-Dagh (5,125 feet), 

 the respectable monarch of Crimean heights. Sleeping at 

 Simferopol, an uninteresting town, we drove on next day 

 to Bakhchisarai, crossing halfway the brook Alma, con- 

 siderably above the battlefield. The town, picturesquely 

 situated in a narrow glen, in the centre of a wide desolate 

 steppe, is entirely Turkish in character, and forms a 

 striking contrast to the Russian style of the rest of the 

 Crimea. The principal attraction to visitors is, however, 

 the residence of the Tartar Khans, used as a hospital 

 during the war, but which has since been tastefully 

 restored, at the ex]xense of the Government. It is a very 

 perfect specimen of an Oriental palace, and the gaily- 

 decorated ceilings and brilliant stained-glass make the 

 deserted rooms look bright and cheerful. A soldier acts 

 as cicerone, but he was so gloriously intoxicated at the 

 time of our visit, that little information could be got from 

 him. In the neighbourhood is a curious monastery, 

 hollowed out of the rock, and a village of Karaite Jews, a 

 sect the origin of which seems doubtful, if not unknown, 

 and who are accordingly supposed to be a remnant of the 

 lost Ten Tribes. 



We returned to Sevastopol on the 16th, and on the 

 afternoon of the 1 7th embarked for Odessa. The steamer, 

 calling at Eupatoria on the way, makes the passage in 

 twenty hours. At Odessa the Eastern element is altogether 

 wanting, and even the Russian is unobtrusive ; it is, in fact, 

 a Western city. Its character is no doubt due to its 

 having grown up under the patronage of a French exile, 

 the Due de Richelieu, and a Russian Anglo-maniac, Prince 

 Woronzoff. It is at present the best-paved and best-lighted 

 town in Russia, and boasts a handsome boulevard and an 



