KOTCHIVAN, AND ENTERS THE PERSIAN FRONTIER. 
177 
hospitable convents in almost every country of Christian Europe; 
amongst forests, mountains, and all lonely places where tem¬ 
porary asylums might be necessary ; and here, amid the savage 
hordes of infidel Asia, still the same sacred roof is extended to 
shelter and to succour the way-faring stranger. The numerous 
public inns to be found almost every where in protestant coun¬ 
tries, supersede there the necessity of these religious hospices. 
It was nine o’clock before I was able to start; and in taking 
our course through the glen of the monastery, I was struck with 
the romantic situation of its secluded towers. It stands on the 
sloping side of a deep valley, or rather chasm, at the bottom of 
which dashes the river Akhoor ; the rocks in its channel, and 
the rapidity of the stream, occasioning such a violence in the 
current as to give it the effect of a water-fall. The village of 
Kotchivan is near the monastery ; and its low-roofed cottages 
form picturesque groups under the other’s loftier walls. Their 
architecture is of the same style and period as the churches in 
Anni; and it is curious to observe, that though its palaces are 
sunk in the dust, or abandoned by their conquerors, a remnant 
of the faith of its ancient kings still exists where it was planted. 
According to our present route, we crossed the Akhoor near a 
spot where a boiling spring issues from the ground, accompanied 
by volumes of steam. They wreathed about like white clouds 
through the thin and clear air of so cold a morning; the frost 
being at 14 degrees of Reaumur, when we left the monastery. In 
passing this river, we entered the Persian lines. We then kept 
along its northern bank, which soon curved to the south-east; 
conducting us by an abrupt ascent, to a part of the mountain- 
valley we had left the day before ; and, on looking to the north¬ 
west, I again saw the old capital of Armenia, with its magnificent 
VOL. i. 
A A 
