and a double-barrelled shot-gun slung at his back — the Armenians seem to feel perfectly safe under his protection.  They probably don’t require any such protection really; they are nevertheless wise in employing a Circassian to guard them, if for nothing else for the sake of freeing their own unwarlike minds of all disquieting apprehensions, and enjoying their family reunion in the calm atmosphere of perfect security; some lawless party passing along the road might peradventure drop in and abuse their hospitality, or partaking too freely of raki, make themselves obnoxious, were they unprotected; but with one Circassian patrolling the camp, they are doubly sure against anything of the kind.

These people invite me to remain with them until to-morrow; but of course I excuse myself from this, and, after spending a very agreeable hour in their company, take my departure.  The country develops into an undulating plateau, which is under general cultivation, as cultivation goes in Asiatic Turkey.  A number of Circassian villages are scattered over this upland plain; most of them are distant from my road, but many horsemen are encountered; they ride the finest animals in the country, and one naturally falls to wondering how they manage to keep so well-dressed and well-mounted, while rags and poverty and diminutive donkeys seem to be the well-nigh universal rule among their neighbors.  The Circassians betray more interest in my purely personal affairs — whether I am Russian or English, whither I am bound, etc.- and less interest in the bicycle, than either Turks or Armenians, and seem altogether of a more reserved disposition; I generally have as little conversation with them as possible, confining myself to letting them know I am English and not Russian, and replying “Turkchi binmus” (I don’t understand) to other questions; they have a look about them that makes one apprehensive as to the disinterestedness of their wanting to know whither I am bound — apprehensive that their object is to find out where three or four of them could “see me later.”  I see but few Circassian women; what few I approach sufficiently near to observe are all more or less pleasant-faced, prepossessing females; many have blue eyes, which is very rare among their neighbors; the men average quite as handsome as the women, and they have a peculiar dare-devil expression of countenance that makes them distinguishable immediately from either Turk or Armenian; they look like men who wouldn’t hesitate about undertaking any devilment they felt themselves equal to for the sake of plunder.  They are very like their neighbors, however, in one respect; such among them as take any great interest in my extraordinary outfit find it entirely beyond their comprehension; the bicycle is a Gordian knot too intricate for their semi-civilized minds to unravel, and there are no Alexanders among them to think of cutting it.  Before they recover from their first astonishment I have disappeared.