Nature and Art, August 1, 1866.] 
A RAMBLE AMONG THE CRIM TARTARS. 
77 
constrictors, twine themselves from pillar to pillar ; 
their green leaves fluttering in the sea breeze im- 
parting a delicious sense of freshness and purity. 
The floor of tesselated pavement, cool as marble, 
has a clear fountain in its centre, from which 
liliputian canals are conducted through the apart- 
ment in every direction, adding the charm of ever- 
running water to its other delightful attractions. 
Whole suites of apartments are there, too, with 
polished oak floors ; to walk in safety over which a 
faithful study of the art of skating, one would be 
disposed to think an imperative necessity. But we 
step short in our heavily spurred riding-boots, as if 
in the act of crossing some frozen pool ; and we ac- 
company the white-bearded old major-domo through 
gallery and corridor, and from room to room, until a 
small mysterious apartment is reached, and we are 
sorely puzzled as to the purposes for which it could 
have been constructed. Unpleasant suspicions arise, 
and old stories, not the less unpleasant for their 
age, are recalled to our memory, as we see a small 
furnace and whole rows of pigeon-holes, evidently 
for the heating and reception of instruments of 
some kind. Horrid thought, are we in the 
chamber of torture ? and is this the chief tor- 
mentor’s dread establishment 1 Yet the handsome 
mirrors and luxuriant seats negative the supposi- 
tion. We are fairly posed, puzzled, and perplexed, 
and endeavour to seek information of our long- 
coated and obsequious guide, whose knowledge of 
English is even more limited than ours of Russian, 
which is saying a great deal. Pantomime goes a 
long way in such cases ; and what with gestures 
indicative of astonishment, and asking in our very 
best Russ, “What fori” a light appeared, at last, to 
break on the faculties of our friend, whose flat, 
Mongolian face brightened up like the sun through 
a cloud. He spread his voluminous skirts out, and 
minced, on the very tips of his long-booted toes, 
down the room and back again, after the manner 
of a Lady of High Degree, when caricatured by 
persons of his class ; twirled his straggling grey 
locks, cork-screw fashion, round his finger ; made 
imaginary tongs with the digits of his other hand ; 
sank, with mock grace, into a seat opposite a look- 
ing-glass ; and the whole thrilling mystery was at 
an end: all is explained. We are in the bureau 
of the “ court barber,” and here he wielded his 
curling-irons in high and exacting majesty. The 
family being at St. Petersburg, we escape the 
barber ; and after a sight of the gardens, in which 
there are some unusually large fig-trees, we resume 
our journey, and are soon away on the smooth 
velvet turf again, with the sea, on our right, calm 
and tideless as an inland lake. Evening is closing 
in rapidly, and we look out for an eligible spot on 
which to encamp for the night. Water is, by no 
means, as plenty here as in the boulder-land 
which we have left behind us. At last, beneath a 
solitary clump of aspen-trees, we discover a well, 
into which several plump, active, green frogs leap 
head foremost on our approach ; whilst others, 
from amongst the tufted grass and water plants, 
croak forth their evening song as the sun goes 
down. 
This quiet, pleasant nook beneath the aspens is 
soon alive with bustle and activity. Tent un- 
packing, picket-pins driving, “ off saddling,” and 
general preparations for spending the night, in full 
operation. We select a tree rather apart from the 
rest for the sacrifice, remove the leather cover from 
the head of our keen, long-handled American axe, 
measure our distance, and send its heavy blade up 
to the very eye in the soft, white wood, sending the 
chips off' right and left, until with a splitting crash 
the tree comes sweeping to the earth, and is soon 
food for the flames, which flicker and dance up 
cheerfully in the gathering twilight ; and as the 
night closes in we see that there are others afoot 
besides ourselves : lights pass to and fro some 
distance out to sea, shine out, flicker brightly, 
disappear, and again throw forth their lurid light 
in a fresh place ; so we go down to the beach to 
investigate, and find a whole party of Tartars, torch 
and harpoon in hand, fish spearing. 
The sand in many places runs in flat “ spits ” and 
tongue-like deposits far out beyond the strand, and 
on these, with flaring brands and poised spears, our 
Tartar friends were wading in search of such “thorn- 
backed turbots,” or small sturgeons, as good fortune 
might bring beneath the glance of their peering, 
downcast eyes. Large quantities of the former fish 
are also captured on the coast by hook and line, 
when semi-circular “ pounds ” are built of stones 
and large pebbles, into which the fish are turned, 
as sheep are in a pen, and when required for use 
the fishermen wade in with a boat paddle and 
literally hunt as many as they want to the shore, 
when by a dexterous lift or so with its flat blade, 
the astonished and bewildered victims are pitched 
out high and dry on the sand. After watching 
this wild and savage-looking band of fish-hunters, 
listening to their shrill cries and whoops, purchasing 
a turbot nearly as large as a moderate-sized tea- 
tray for the value of about tenpence, and getting 
thoroughly wet in bringing him on shore, we wend 
our way back to camp with our fish, with whom 
we have some serious misunderstandings on the 
road, but a couple of admonitory raps on the head 
settle matters at last, and we are soon beneath our 
our own trees and in our own tent once more. 
To-morrow we intend visiting Yalta to purchase 
corn for our animals, as well as certain creature 
comforts for ourselves. A description of our search, 
for grain and what befel it and us, we shall com- 
municate in our next. 
