In one of the ancient towers of the wall on the west was residing a Kurdish chief, surrounded by a posse of his followers. Perhaps he was in some sense a hostage to the Government, or perhaps he was acting in a representative capacity towards the five regiments of Hamidiyeh, each with 500 men, which, he assured me, were furnished by his tribe. His name is Riza Bey, and he is the brother of Fethulla Bey, chief of all Hasananli. His brother resides in the village of Dignuk, on the right bank of the Murad near Melazkert. Riza Bey came to visit us in the citadel and I returned his visit in the tower. His window commanded a fine prospect over the alluvial plain in the direction of the Murad—all the detail, of crumbling cemetery, of willow-grown hollow, of channelled flats, framed by the deep embrasure. My host was seated on a divan, covered with a beautiful Kurdish kilim; he was readily distinguished by his ferocious black moustache. He gave evasive answers to my questions about the annual trainings; one hears so very much, and one sees so very little of this formidable Hamidiyeh! Melazkert is a kind of headquarters for the force; and I feel sure that, if even one regiment were in actual existence, it would have been paraded for our benefit.

Late in the afternoon of the 5th of July we forded the stream in the southern ravine, and, after crossing an extensive and very ruinous cemetery, made our way over the plain of lava which stretches without interruption to the base of the still distant Sipan. Our course was directed to a village on its southern confines, at the foot of those heights which have already been mentioned as extending between Sipan and Bilejan. You may canter the whole way, for the ground is fairly even, although broken here and there by mounds of black boulders, which may represent either minor outbreaks of volcanic matter, or the sites of steam vents through the sheet of cooling lava. In places there is a thin covering of marly deposits; and, where these occur, the soil becomes fertile. But it is little cultivated—only in patches, and in a very primitive fashion. The village proved to be Circassian; its name was Kara Ali; a second Circassian settlement, called Yaralmish, was its close neighbour upon the east. Our track commenced to ascend, immediately beyond Kara Ali, up the face of the opposite heights. The nature of these hills was at once apparent from the character of their forms and from the change in vegetation. We rode over the slopes of downs, resting the eye on fresh pastures, and with the song of the lark in our ears. The purple vetch was resplendent on the cliff-sides. Here and there a white patch disclosed the calcareous nature of the underlying rock. The village of Demian (raya Hasananli, alt. 6690 feet) is situated below the crest of the ridge, in full view of the plain. There we decided to encamp for the night.1

July 6.—What a landscape to wake up to! The side of our tent towards the plain had been left open during the night. We overlooked such an immense expanse of earth—nude, or veiled in transparent mists, and quite unconscious of the presence of man! Even we, who were already accustomed to such visions, had never yet seen the like. Reach upon reach, in large surroundings, we traced the course of the Murad, flowing towards us from Tutakh; loop upon loop, we followed its waters into the dimness of the west, flowing away through the plain. The contrasts in the lighting were less impressive this morning; but last evening the river was thrown into pronouncement, and lay like a parti-coloured riband in the expanse. From vivid whites and tender greys it became a sheen of gold under the red blaze of the setting sun.

The pass, or crest of the ridge (6870 feet), is close behind Demian. Among our landmarks, besides Sipan, the Akh Dagh was most conspicuous, and, although probably less lofty, because quite free from snow, dwarfed the intermediate mass of Khamur. The dome of the Kuseh Dagh was the bold feature of the scene in the north; while Kartevin rose like an island in the plain at our feet. This pass is but the edge of a deep block of hill country, interposed between the plain and the lake of Van. The highest level which we attained, during our passage across it, belonged to the ridge on the north of the village of Khanik, and was a level of 7690 feet. That ridge was composed of Eocene limestone, perhaps a travertine, while the ridge behind Demian displayed the familiar fossils of the widely-distributed lacustrine rocks. Coralline limestones of Eocene epoch, much altered and hardened, perhaps by the action of hot springs, constitute the backbone of the mass; while on its southern side the lacustrine series is represented by the purplish-brown sandstones of the hills behind Akhlat. Sipan has burst through the zone of limestone hills, probably about in the central region; the volcano has been built up upon their debris, and overtowers their almost uniform levels. Yet the stratified rocks are little diversified by volcanic outpourings: and only once, namely just upon our departure from the valley of Khanik, did we ride over such material, a dark volcanic tuff. It is indeed surprising, the limited extension of the flows of lava even from such a giant as Sipan. When we looked across to the mountain from the lofty down behind Demian, the block of hills appeared to compose an outer sheath to the volcano, recessing inwards around its contours. And the plain or pedestal of lava at the foot of Sipan was seen tonguing into the recess at our feet. Through that valley was winding a little stream, which would probably become lost in the plain. We descended into the valley, which supports several Kurdish villages, and rose up the opposite side. From this ridge to the guardhouse on the southern side of the block is the wildest portion of this bleak zone. We passed only one village, the Circassian settlement of Khanik, during our progress from the ridge to Akhlat. The axis or strike of the limestones is in an east-north-east direction; they are carved out into deep and irregular valleys.

Extraordinary precautions had been taken for our safety during the passage of this region. Our escort from Melazkert consisted of eight zaptiehs, and of the head man of the village of Akhviran, a notable of high rank in the Hamidiyeh, who had been commissioned by Riza Bey to accompany us. At Khanik we were met by no less than fifteen zaptiehs; and this little force skirmished up the heights adjoining our track, to protect us from an ambuscade. Arrived at the guardhouse (7560 feet) we were saluted by a detachment of regular cavalry, mounted on snow-white horses. As we rode down this line of troops, an individual in civil dress stepped forward and took our hands. It was the Kaimakam of Akhlat. His servants had prepared tea in the solitary little building which rises like a beacon from the wilds.

Our further progress was a procession. We were sorry to lose the cavalry, who were under orders to return to the guardhouse. They manoeuvred in admirable fashion; and the motley zaptiehs, careering in all directions, were a poor substitute to the eye. The Kaimakam rode by our side. But this little touch of humanity was quickly lost and soon forgotten in the emotions which were inspired by the unfolding scene. The landscape of Lake Van, overtake it where you may, can scarcely fail, with a traveller susceptible of such impressions, to bring tears to the eyes. And there it lies, deep down below us, streaming with sunlight, intensely blue and intensely pale. How startling is the change from these rounded forms about us—from the dome of Sipan, wreathed in cloud, from the unbroken circle of the Nimrud crater, islands of mountain in an expanse of plain and hill—to the jagged and snow-capped parapet of the Kurdish mountains, reflected into the mirror of waters on the opposite shore! But this evening we miss the gloom which is wont to envelop those mountains; the clouds are suspended high above the outline of peaks; and the face of the wall is tinted a delicate yellow, relieved by shadows of a pale violet hue. The shadows mark the relief of the almost vertical escarpments, and have the appearance of a long succession of pointed spears. Among the landmarks along those shores we recognise Mount Ardos, broad-shouldered above a headland in the east; a blue shadow in the lake, slightly raised above its surface, may denote the isle of Akhtamar. The long promontory of Zigag juts out from the Nimrud crater towards the beautiful bay of Surb, on the opposite shore.

Almost at our feet we see the top of a leafy tree, then another, and then a long grove. And immediately we enter the deep shade of the gardens which fringe the southern margin of the sea (5637 feet).