the yard cocks are at feud. there has been some harem trouble and so this is a day of war. since first crow they have been tumbling over one another, shedding the red gore and eyeing one another terribly. now, at four of the afternoon, they both show signs of strife. their grand plumage is dirty, their combs soiled and ugly, their necks gory, their eyes bloodshot and terrible. their wives, however, seem placid—almost indifferent. unhappy is the lot of rival sultans!

there are intervals between the battles, intervals of rest and crowing. poor abdul hamid sits below me and groans with pain, whines almost like a dog. but in a minute “time’s up,” he goes out and challenges and again is bloodily overcome. their claws are bloody, for they strike at one another with their feet. they jump at one another, balancing themselves and flapping their wings and try to roll each other in the dust. truly it is no wonder there is cock-fighting in russia when the birds behave like this when left to themselves. 157and it is a most interesting spectacle albeit not christian.

kazbek mountain, from the north-west

whilst they are eyeing one another terribly and furtively, and it looks doubtful whether abdul will continue the battle or will abdicate, alimka, the yard urchin, steals up behind the victor and suddenly pulls one of his tail feathers. consternation! but in a moment they are back again, beak to beak, and the ruby blood is flowing. a black hen is now in attendance, and risks having her eyes peeked out in her greedy endeavours to drink up the blood that is dropping on the ground.

this is happening in the yard of a mill where i am staying. i came here yesterday in a cart from the mountains, and i have given up the quest of a cottage for this summer. i have taken two rooms here, and although they are unfurnished they will suit my purposes. it is on the banks of the terek, and presently i shall have to go to the river to fetch water for tea.

i had been wandering some days among the georgian villages near kobi, when one morning i came into the georgian road again and there met a russian driving a three-horse cart. he seemed badly in want of company, so i consented to get in with him. we had the following conversation.

“how do you pray?” asked he.

“what do you mean?” i replied.

158“are you orthodox?”

“i am not russian,” i replied, “and i don’t belong to the russian church.”

“what then? you are esthonian, eh? or a tsech?”

“no, english.”

“english! impossible! you have a moustache, no englishman has a moustache.”

“i am english all the same.”

“then you are a protestant. i’m a baptist.”

“then we are brothers,” i replied.

“but how do you pray? do you cross yourself? we pray so.” he showed me how he prayed, folded his hands on his stomach, and shut his eyes.

“i understand,” i replied. “we pray like that, but we kneel also, and some of our protestants cross themselves also.”

he looked shocked but went on:

“where do you live? you ought to come to our gatherings. there are many of us here now since the declaration.”

he was referring to m. stolypin’s ukase of october 1908, which granted freedom to all religious sects in the empire. i told him i was not living anywhere in particular, but that i had been tempted to take a georgian cottage at a place called pkhelshi, which had been offered me at ten roubles a month. my only 159doubt was of the cleanliness of the place. i was afraid of being eaten up by insects. the baptist was horrified.

“afraid of insects!” said he. “better be afraid of getting your throat cut. no, you leave it to me; i know where you can go. i’ll take you to our pastor, he has a mill on the river. he is a very good man and very humble. you go and live with him, he won’t take more than five roubles.”

so i had come to the mill and put my things there, and made it my abode for the time being. the driver of the cart was very proud of his find, and introduced me to the miller with not less mystery and secrecy than he would have unwrapped a gold nugget which he might have picked up on the mountains. the host took me over and the other bade me farewell; we should meet again at one of their “gatherings.”

i had two rooms but no furniture. the miller found me a table and i used a box to sit on. i bought a mattress at a “bazaar” in vladikavkaz, and a german oil-stove and glasses and saucers and plates and a saucepan, and a wooden spoon to stir my soup, and metal spoons to eat it and sup it, and some knives and a fork. i also bought a penny broom to sweep the floors and some muslin to make a curtain. setting up house on my own account for the first time was a matter of great excitement. in case anyone might 160like to try a similar experiment let me write here the prices i paid:

mattress 6 shillings

oil-stove (of the beatrice kind) 7 shillings

2 buckets 2 shillings

2 saucers, 4 plates, 2 glasses 1 shilling

saucepan 2 shillings

tea-pot and hot-water jug 1 shilling

a broom, padlock, nails 1 shilling

a shopping-basket 6 pence

and the muslin cost 8d., and two tins for washing purposes cost 1s. 6d. the other people were very interested in my place, but did not seem surprised at the deficiencies. a russian woman promised to do my washing, and my neighbour, a persian, offered me water from his samovar whenever i required it.

it was an interesting ménage, and left me free to go out into the mountains whenever i wished. i could leave my things behind and be perfectly sure they were safe, and i could have a postal address. food cost me about four shillings a week—for the cost of living was very low. milk was 2d. a quart; new-laid eggs, 3d. a dozen; butter, 10d. a pound; lamb, 4d. a pound; beef, 3d. i lived on the fat of the land at four shillings a week, and on very hot days i would take my saucepan out to the ice-cream shop and get it full for sixpence, and then i would invite alimka, the yard urchin, and his little sister, fatima, to have tea with me.

one day fatima and alimka brought me a sparrow 161which they had caught. they had tied cotton to one of its legs and had been flying it as one would a kite. they did not understand cruelty; they thought i should be amused. so when i took it away they were fearfully enraged, and i offered them each a halfpenny, and alimka took his, but fatima would not take it; she would have the sparrow back, it was hers. she screamed, and i thought she was going to have a fit. “daviety,” she screamed, “give it back,” and put everything into that scream—mouth, face, head, feet, knees, body and red rag of a skirt; all shook and gaped and screamed, “daviety.” she did not have her way, however, and little jason, for so i named him, remained with me, and many a cheerful hour we spent together. for days i amused myself watching his convalescence. i caught flies for him and put them in his mouth, whereupon he gulped them down and chirped. he slept every night on the winter stove, and in the mornings he flew down and hopped on to my face and chirped, and then i would waken up and give him some sugar. i took him out and he hopped along at the side of me on the moors, and jumped and flew and caught flies for himself. often he got lost and i could not find him, but after an hour or so, when i was lying down eating my lunch, or picking wild strawberries from a bank, he would hop again into view. he was a dear friend, my little jason.

of wild strawberries i made jam, as also of wild 162plums and cherries, and this was a great diversion. i offered some to ali khan next door, but he would not take any; perhaps it was part of his religion to refuse, for the jam was very tempting. ali khan made the persians very interesting to me, especially as there were many persians about and he was having one to tea almost every day.

the miller and his wife looked upon me with parental eyes. they were much astonished by my ability to do things for myself. the miller was generally known as the h?zain and his wife the h?zaika. the h?zaika stood and stared at me when i drew water from the river myself; she thought it not respectable that a man should do that, and when she came into my back room one day and found me washing handkerchiefs she fairly gasped. poor h?zaika, she also had her tables of conventionalities.