Convalescence—Membra Disjecta—Mortality among the Medical Staff—"En haut MystÈre, en bas MisÈre"—Arrival of Dr. Stoker and Dr. Stiven—A Desperate Journey—In the Hands of the Russians—Free under the English Flag—I resume Duty—An ArchÆological Curio—Antiques for Sale—An Armistice declared—Appearance of the Russians—The Gates thrown Open—Entry of the Russian Army—Our Russian ConfrÈres—The Advantage of knowing French—A Friend in need—Captain Pizareff—An Impressive Review—Under the Russian Eagles—War or Peace?—Interview with General Melikoff—An Unpleasant Type of Consul—Charming Russian Visitors—I receive a Decoration—Celebrating the Occasion—Our Russian Guests—A Series of Dinner Parties—Duties of a Cossack Escort—A Perilous Adventure—The Hero of Devoi Boyun—We leave the Consulate—Fate's Irony at the Last—Death of General Heymann.

When I rose from my sick-bed I was very thin and weak; but under Denniston's care I soon picked up my strength, and at last he allowed me to go out for a walk. It was the first week in February, and the snow was beginning to melt on the low ground; although beyond the valley in which Erzeroum stood it still lay thick upon the hills, and Kopdagh in the distance rose to a crystal spear-point of dazzling whiteness outlined sharply against the sky.

Contrasted with the serene purity of the mountain heights, the squalid horrors of Erzeroum in the valley struck home to the imagination with redoubled force. Here and there, as I paced through the streets with the unsteady gait and the frequent pauses of a man scarcely yet recovered from fever, I could see in the dirty, brownish, melting slush grim evidences of disease and death. The hordes of dogs which infested the town had dragged the bones of the dead men who had been abandoned to them into the very streets; and as the snow which hid the poor remains for a time began to melt, the bones reappeared in ghastly fashion. Close to the doorstep of our own quarters I saw a skull picked as clean as a piece of ivory; and before I had gone a hundred yards another pitiable sight met my eyes. It was the bone of a man's arm, from which the hand was missing, and the cleanness of the cut showed that it had been amputated during life. Probably it had been a case of frostbite. On every side, as I walked on feebly and slowly, I saw these human remains peeping shamefacedly from the snow that would no longer cover them; and a few inquiries showed me that while I was raving with the fever and unconscious of all around me, terrible things had been happening in Erzeroum. The place had become a veritable pesthouse; and while the civil and military population had alike fallen under the scourge of typhus, by far the heaviest losses had occurred in the ranks of the medical staff. No fewer than twenty-seven doctors had been attacked by the disease; and the malignant form in which it appeared may be gauged from the fact that of these twenty-seven more than half had succumbed. Of the survivors I was one. I knew then—and have remembered it ever since—that I owed my life to the skill and care of that devoted surgeon James Denniston.

Looking round the fever-stricken town, I saw on every hand dead men lying in the snow, and living men, worn to shadows like myself, crawling feebly about the streets; while outside the gates the Russians were waiting grimly until the thaw should enable them to bring up their artillery and complete the work that sickness had begun. Then lifting my eyes to the mountains, I saw them rearing their unapproachable pinnacles to the sky, far above human suffering and weakness. The shadows of the clouds moved across the face of one great snow-field to the southward, but the ice-peak that pierced the blue above was iridescent in the sunlight. It seemed like an illustration of the words of that French poet who wrote:

As I drew near our quarters again after my short walk, I saw a small crowd gathered near the door; and next minute I was shaking hands, with a heart too full for words, with my old friends Dr. Stoker and Dr. Stiven, who had come up from Constantinople on a mission of relief.

When I fell ill and Denniston was left alone, he managed to get a letter away to Constantinople through the Russian lines announcing the precarious position in Erzeroum, and Dr. Stoker and Dr. Stiven at once volunteered to come up as a rescue party. Reaching Trebizond on January 27, they pushed forward at once, preparations for the journey having been expedited by Mr. Biliotti; but they had to stop most of the first night at Jevislik to rest the post-horses, and here the hazardous nature of their undertaking was brought home to them. An early start was made next morning, and all that day these two heroic men pushed on with tired horses, a reluctant guide, and one hundred and fifty miles of snow and ice in front of them. The road was excessively difficult, for the little pathway, about two feet wide, was frozen and slippery, and wound along the edge of a cliff about nine hundred feet high, while snowdrifts, which in some places were twenty feet deep, threatened to engulf them. Several times the baggage-horses fell, and the whole party had to halt and unpack and reload the animals; so that the march was much delayed, and it was two hours after dark before they reached the summit of the Zegana Pass, where they camped for the night. The next day they reached Ghumish KhanÉ, and there for the first time since leaving Trebizond they got a relay of post-horses. A long struggle of eighteen hours brought the relief party from Ghumish KhanÉ to Baiburt; and after procuring fresh horses with some difficulty, they pushed on to the Kop village at the foot of the worst pass on the whole road.

Here another misfortune befell them; for the guide, who had been showing an inclination to give in for several stages past, refused when they were half-way up the mountain to go a step farther, declaring that it was madness to attempt the pass in such weather, and that they were courting certain death from the avalanches that they could hear at intervals thundering down into the valley below.

Taking their lives in their hands, the two doctors left the guide to make his way back as best he could, and faced the rising path again, taking the pack-horses with them. Once the whole party were submerged in a snowdrift, but managed to get clear again; and after a great struggle of nine hours, they passed the Kopdagh, and arrived at a place called Purnekapan, where they learnt that they were close to the Russian outposts. At the top of the pass the snow lay so thick that, had it not been for the telegraph poles, the whole party must have lost their way and perished; but by dint of following the track thus marked out they were able to advance as far as Ashkaleh, where a Cossack guard was stationed. Hoisting the British flag and also the ambulance flag, the intrepid doctors were escorted by the Cossacks to Ilidja, where they were well received by the Russian general Sistovitch; and after some delay, caused by the necessity of telegraphing to the Grand Duke Michael for permission, they were allowed to go on to Erzeroum, which they reached on February 3. Surely that hazardous relief march of seven whole days, undertaken voluntarily, and carried out with unswerving resolution in the face of every danger, should live in the annals of the medical profession as an example of the unflinching devotion of the two brave men who made it.

Stoker and Stiven told me that the news of my illness had been received in Constantinople with great regret, and they had orders if they found me alive on their arrival at Erzeroum to send me down to the capital at once to recuperate. They also brought me an invitation from Vice-Admiral Sir Edward Commerell, who was stationed in the Gulf of Ismet, to pay him a visit on board his ship for the purpose of regaining my health.

However, it went against the grain with me to think of leaving a sinking ship; and at last we arranged that Stiven should go back, taking Captain Morisot with him, and that Stoker should remain with Denniston and me to look after the hospitals. So we said good-bye to Stiven and Morisot, and devoted ourselves anew to the hospital work. During my illness the Stafford House Hospital, which had been handed back to the Turkish authorities, had been allowed to go to the bad very much; but after four or five days' hard work we soon had everything ship-shape again.

At this period the sickness in the city was at its worst, and the ravages of typhus and typhoid were fearful. We three English doctors had our hands full, and whenever we had an hour to spare from the military hospital our time was taken up in attending upon the poorer Armenians in the city. We could have earned large fees if we had chosen to attend the wealthier classes; but we thought it right to devote all our spare time to the poor people, who had no one else to look after them.

Among our patients was the Catholic Armenian archbishop of the place, a dear old fellow, who was most grateful to Denniston and myself for attending him. When he recovered he wanted us to take a fee, but we declined; and then he insisted on presenting us with the only article of value which he possessed. This was a bracelet which had been excavated from a subterranean village of great antiquity at the foot of Mount Ararat, and consisted of a large ring of bronze, ornamented with two serpents' heads. It was supposed to be about two thousand three hundred years old or thereabouts. We accepted this strange old ornament, which might have been fashioned by some cunning artificer whose father saw the sunlight flashing on the Athenian helmets at Marathon or watched the beak of a Greek galley come crashing through the Persian ship in which he laboured at the oar at Salamis. The serpents on the old bronze bracelet had slumbered on in the subterranean village while centuries came and went and dynasties flitted past like shadows; but at last they were restored again to the light of day. Denniston and I regarded our new acquisition with curiosity not unmixed with awe. Then in our simple, unpoetical way we decided to toss up for it, and the spin of a Turkish piastre, minted so to speak but yesterday, gave Denniston possession of this souvenir of the times of mighty Xerxes.

As soon as it leaked out that archÆological objects were regarded with interest by the English doctors, an extraordinary variety of ancient curiosities were pressed upon our notice; and owing to the precarious situation in the town, the owners were all ready to sacrifice their treasures at an alarming reduction. There was something pathetic in the eagerness of a few of these collectors to realize upon their treasures. I was offered an iron signet ring supposed to have belonged to an exalted personage in the time of Alexander the Great for the price of a few doses of quinine; and half a bottle of brandy would have purchased me a curious black stone bearing an inscription that would puzzle the antiquity experts at the British Museum. One day an Armenian named Magack, who held an official position in the British Consulate, brought me a gold coin stamped with a bull's head. He explained to me that it was coined in the reign of the second Persian king, and that it was worth £70 in London; but the evidence on one point seemed to me as inconclusive as on the other, and I declined to purchase it at the price of £30.

Although the snow had begun to melt in the streets, it was still bitterly cold, and we knew that the Russians were only waiting for a regular thaw in order to bring up their artillery. However, we were fortunately not called upon to undergo a bombardment; for with the fall of Kars and Plevna the war was virtually at an end both in Asia Minor and in Europe, and rumours of an armistice were already beginning to be put about.

At last one day I saw a couple of Russian cavalry officers in the town; and hurrying back to my quarters as fast as possible, I sent old Tom Rennison up to headquarters to find out what had happened. He brought back news that they were two parlementaires, who brought telegrams from Constantinople vi St. Petersburg, notifying the commander-in-chief that the town would be occupied by Russian troops in accordance with the terms of an armistice.

When old Kurd Ismail Pasha heard this news, he wept tears of rage and tore his beard in a frenzy of grief. The troops also, in spite of their terrible losses by wounds and sickness, were very despondent at the prospect of the town being occupied by the enemy without another blow being struck in its defence. Lamentations, however, were useless; and two days later the gates were opened, and General Melikoff, surrounded by his staff, rode into Erzeroum, and took up his quarters in the town.

On the same night, just as Denniston, Stoker, and myself were sitting down to a good dinner in our comfortable quarters, four Russian doctors, who had come in with Melikoff, called at our house. They belonged to the Russian Red Cross Society, and explained that they did not know where to go for the night; so we sent their horses round to our stable, and we invited them to dine with us and stay the night—an invitation which they gladly accepted. We gave them a capital dinner, which they enjoyed very much; and the only thing that marred the complete success of the gathering was the difficulty under which conversational intercourse had to be carried on.

It was on this occasion that my deplorable deficiencies in the matter of conversational French actually endangered my life, which I had managed to preserve up till then, in spite of shot and shell, fever and frostbite. Neither Stoker nor Stiven had pursued his studies in the language of diplomacy much farther than the irregular verbs which tormented them in their fourth-form days at school; and my own French, painfully acquired during my early days in Australia, and never afterwards improved by practice, was distinctly of the Stratford-atte-Bow variety. Consequently the natural embarrassment of finding conversation for the enemy within our gates as well as dinner was increased by the difficulty which we experienced in achieving any remark which we considered it in good taste to utter. Drifting naturally to professional subjects, I made a reference to our colleagues Dr. Casson and Dr. Buckby, who were captured by Cossacks on their way from Kars to Erzeroum, after having been under fire with Mukhtar Pasha's troops at the fighting round Eolia-tepe and Nalban-tepe. I wanted to say that I had heard that the Russians treated the two doctors who were taken prisoners with great kindness, and made things as pleasant as possible for them. What I did say, however, falling into the common schoolboy error of attempting to render an idiom in one language by a phrase of similar sound in another, was this. "J'ai entendu," I remarked, with a smile intended to convey grateful appreciation of services rendered, but which was interpreted as a sinister and sardonic grimace denoting a deliberate intention to insult, "que vous avez fait beaucoup de plaisanteries pour nos deux amis." There was an awkward pause. It was just that sort of pause which occurs at a large dinner party when you inquire audibly from your neighbour the name of the hideously ugly woman who is sitting opposite, and he replies that it is his wife. Then the four Russian doctors began to jabber excitedly to each other, and one of them, jumping to his feet, hurled half a dozen rapid sentences at me, which I dimly felt denoted astonishment, anger, and a demand for satisfaction. It was very clear that I had put my foot in it somehow; but to correct my mistake I strove in vain. The more I said the less it pleased our guests, who loudly insisted upon a duel. This was a pretty go. Morisot, who would have been my best friend in this emergency, was unfortunately in Constantinople; but necessity sharpens one's wits wonderfully, and it flashed upon me in a moment that Magack, the owner of the gold coin with the bull's head that was stamped during the reign of the second Persian king, could speak French admirably. Accordingly the invaluable numismatist was summoned in hot haste; and although I am sure that he never forgave me for not buying that bull's head, he condescended to explain to our guests the difficulty in which the defects of my education had landed me. The Russian doctors turned out to be very good fellows after all, and when they left us General Melikoff sent an aide to thank us for the hospitality which we had shown to them.

Captain Serge Pizareff was the name of the aide-de-camp who came to call on us, and a very pleasant young fellow he was. He told us that the Russians would make a formal entry into the town next day; and that if we liked to see the spectacle, he would send us horses and place himself at our disposal, an offer which, needless to say, we accepted.

There was one thing about Captain Serge Pizareff which struck me very favourably. He had been to England, and spoke English as well as most Englishmen. I argued from that circumstance that the Russian doctors must have dropped a hint as to our deficiencies in the matter of French; but I was prepared to overlook the humiliation for the sake of the convenience.

We got a capital view of the spectacle, thanks to the kindness of Captain Pizareff; for some Cossacks brought us horses in the morning, and we rode out to the large open space inside the walls where the demonstration was to take place. It was a most impressive demonstration. Outside the town a corps d'armÉe of sixty thousand Russian troops, belonging to all branches of the service, was stationed in the various villages. It was not deemed advisable to bring them all in at once; but detachments from every regiment, including cavalry, infantry, and artillery, were marched forward and brigaded outside the gates. Then at the word of command, while the bands played the regimental quicksteps, they came forward, with colours flying, and entered Erzeroum without striking a blow, across the ground where those same regiments had been swept by the fire from the redoubts along the walls a couple of months before, and had been hurled back in terrible disorder.

General Melikoff reviewed his troops in the great open space between the town and the redoubts which defended the walls. It was a crisp, clear, exhilarating day, and the hard, smooth surface of the glistening snow was still strong enough to bear the troops without sinking in, though here and there an officer's horse would put his foot through the solid crust into the soft powdery snow below and flounder back again, plunging and snorting.

We three Englishmen sat there on the Cossacks' shaggy, hardy little horses, and watched with mingled feelings the triumphant military display of the great Northern power which was celebrating the close of a victorious campaign. We guessed by a kind of instinct that England herself had come within measurable distance of war with the same great power; but we scarcely realized that the issue was still hanging in the balance, and that the steady hand of one man held the scales of war and peace. The treaty of San Stefano had just been signed. This document, which the Sultan ratified on March 3, concluded the war between Russia and Turkey; but the Ottoman Government had to buy peace at a price. Not only was an indemnity of three hundred million roubles secured to Russia, but she also took large possessions in Asia Minor and enormous advantages in Europe.

While we sat on the horses of the Cossack irregulars listening to the huzzas of the Russian troops, Lord Beaconsfield, with the provisions of the treaty before him, was evolving the policy of England. It was not until May 15 that he returned to London with Lord Salisbury, after the Berlin Congress, bringing back "peace with honour."

As we dangled our feet in the big Cossack stirrups watching the Russian standards that made shadows on the snow as they waved lazily in the breeze, a British squadron was steaming to Besika Bay, and the Government of India was preparing to despatch a strong force of Indian troops to Malta. That was because Russia refused to submit the treaty of San Stefano to the other powers in accordance with the peremptory demand of Beaconsfield, and held on her course until the determined attitude assumed by England forced her to modify her claims in Europe.

Although we did not know all this at that time, yet we knew enough to realize that possibly we might see the Russian troops very shortly under quite different circumstances; and this reflection lent piquancy to the situation.

We watched the Russians as they marched in on parade and formed up in a great hollow square, with General Melikoff and the headquarters staff sitting on their horses inside it, and the imperial standards of yellow silk embroidered with the black eagles flaunting in the air.

Then at a given signal the massed bands of all the regiments struck up the Russian national anthem, and the huzzas of the soldiery were given with a goodwill that showed how welcome was the close of the campaign. Our troubles had been severe enough in Erzeroum; but the sufferings of the Russian army camped outside in the snow transcended anything that we had undergone, and General Melikoff told me himself that he had lost 40 per cent. of his army from typhus fever and exposure.

A cleric, or "pope," as he was called, who accompanied the troops in the capacity of an army chaplain, delivered an excited harangue, declaring that the Almighty had given the soldiers of the cross the victory over the infidels; and then the men were dismissed from parade, and allowed to go where they liked. Several carts full of wine were brought in, and the champions of Christendom embarked on a glorious carouse.

All the Turkish troops who were able to travel had been sent away to Erzinghan or Baiburt in order to make room for the Russian army; but we still had about two thousand men in hospital, and these it was impossible to remove, so that Stoker, Denniston, and myself had plenty of work before us. There was a great deal of sickness among the poorer Armenians in the town, and these unfortunate creatures were almost entirely dependent upon us for medical aid; so it may readily be guessed that we had our hands full.

On the day after the review General Melikoff invited Stoker, Denniston, and myself to call on him. Piloted by our excellent friend Captain Pizareff, who was the general's aide-de-camp, we found our way to headquarters, and were introduced to the Russian field-marshal in the big house which he had selected for his residence.

General Melikoff at that time was a man of striking appearance, and looked every inch a soldier. His tall, well knit figure, his aquiline nose, and dark, flashing eyes marked him out at once as a military leader. He received us with the greatest courtesy, and told us that he had heard how hard we had worked, not only in aid of the sick and wounded soldiers, but also in aid of the poverty-stricken civil population of the town. He assured us of his sympathy, and promised to do everything in his power to help us, asking us to make any suggestions with regard to improvements that might be desirable in conducting the sanitation of the city, and expressing his willingness to meet our views in every way. Encouraged by the kindly and considerate attitude of the general, I ventured to approach him by letter a few days afterwards, and once again my unfortunate deficiencies in the matter of French exposed me to treatment which I shall never believe was authorized by General Melikoff.

Hussein Effendi, the Turkish principal medical officer, was the original cause of the trouble; for he ordered the wounded to be removed from the English hospital and sent away when they were in such a weak condition that many of them died in consequence of this heartless treatment. We reported the matter to Hakki Bey, and Hussein Effendi was at once sent for; and having no satisfactory explanation to give of his conduct, was imprisoned. At the same time, remembering General Melikoff's injunction that I should let him know of anything that required seeing to in the hospitals, I wrote to him explaining the circumstances. The letter was really the joint production of Denniston, Stoker, and myself. We wrote it in the best French that we could muster; and as there was no cream-laid notepaper left in Erzeroum, we were obliged to use the only kind of stationery available, which happened to be a bit of blue foolscap. We surveyed our joint production with pardonable pride, and despatched it without delay to General Melikoff. When next I saw the unfortunate letter, it was in the hands of the Russian consul, who had returned to Erzeroum with the army of occupation, having left the town in the first instance on the outbreak of hostilities. He was a tall man, with a very pale face and a thick black beard. His manners were in striking contrast to those of the Russian officers whom we had met, for he was an insolent fellow, who had not wit enough to conceal the signs that betokened an ignorant Jack-in-office unaccustomed to mix with men of the world or in polite society. This individual came to me next day, holding in his hand my letter to General Melikoff, which he flung in my face, remarking at the same time that it was not usual to write to a field-marshal of the Russian army on a dirty bit of foolscap and in atrociously bad French. I was relieved to find from Captain Pizareff, whom I apprised of the circumstance, that such a message was never sent by General Melikoff. Probably the facts of the case were that Melikoff handed the letter to this uncouth personage with instructions to attend to the matter, and that the Jack-in-office, annoyed by the duty, vented his spite upon the writer.

We became very intimate with Captain Pizareff, and also made the acquaintance of a number of Russian officers, whom we invited round to our quarters in the evenings.

We found ourselves much sought after by the Russian officers; and, in fact, the English Consulate, where we lived, became to all intents and purposes a Russian club. It got to be quite the thing for them to drop in during the evening; and we occasionally gave little dinner parties, which were much appreciated. Our house, furnished as it was with Mr. Zohrab's excellent supply of provisions, and with his admirable and carefully selected stock of wines and liquors, was the only place in Erzeroum where a decent dinner was obtainable. An invitation to dine with us was very acceptable, as may be imagined, to these young Russian aristocrats, who had been half starving in the snow for several months past.

Most of those who came to us were friends of Pizareff, who practically lived at our place. He was a fine type of young fellow, with the frank and dashing manner of the born soldier, and with a nature widened and improved by travel. Like my other great friend, poor Czetwertinski, he was a brilliant horseman, and his charger was the envy of the regiment. This horse was an extremely handsome white stallion, which, as the advertisements say, was formerly the property of a gentleman, and had been parted with simply because the owner had no further use for him. The original owner happened to be a notorious brigand in Daghistan, who for a long time defied all efforts to capture him, but was taken at last and summarily hanged. Pizareff was offered enormous sums for this famous animal, which added to his undoubted worth as a charger something of the extrinsic sentimental value that might have attached to Dick Turpin's Black Bess.

Another charming man who used to come to our house was the colonel commanding the Orenburg Cossacks. We saw a great deal of him, and also of his adjutant, Captain Anisimoff, who spoke English like an Englishman, and looked exactly like a British naval officer. They all drank brandy at a rate that threatened to deplete our stock of this medical comfort in an alarming manner; and I remember that one evening a party of them polished off three bottles between them, which made me open my eyes, especially as brandy was worth two pounds a bottle in Erzeroum at that time. One of the party was a young Russian prince, whose name I have forgotten. He had never tasted brandy before, and was so proud of his achievement that he insisted upon sending a telegram to his father at St. Petersburg announcing that he had been drinking eau-de-vie in Erzeroum at the house of three English doctors—a highly important despatch from the seat of war.

About this time I received a telegram one day from Constantinople informing me that the Sultan had been pleased to confer upon me the decoration of the fourth order of the Medjidie in recognition of my services. Mere lad as I was, I felt very proud of my decoration, and Denniston, Stoker, and myself had a great consultation about the matter. They opined that there was only one course open to me, and that it was incumbent upon me to give a party in celebration of the event. As the guests would be all Russians, I felt bound in honour to do the thing properly, and determined to go outside Mr. Zohrab's cellar in order to provide materials befitting the occasion. Mr. Zohrab had forgotten to lay in a stock of champagne before he went, and it was clear that champagne was the only liquor which would meet the requirements of the case. Now I knew that there was no champagne in Erzeroum before the arrival of the Russians; but I guessed that the sutlers and purveyors who followed the Russian army would not have forgotten to bring the wine which is so much favoured in Russia. Old Tom Rennison, a campaigner whose vast experience enabled him to live in luxury in places where a goat would starve, thought that he knew where to get some "fizz"; so I despatched him to bring in half a dozen bottles coÛte que coÛte. Still, it was a bit staggering to find that, when he brought back the required quantity, he also had a little bill of eighteen pounds to render for the half-dozen of Moet and Chandon which some enterprising purveyor had carted on a sledge over the snow from Tiflis, four hundred miles away. About a dozen Russian officers came round to my party, and we made a great night of it. Denniston proposed my health in English, and I responded in the same language. Then Pizareff proposed it in French, and I made shift to reply in that tongue. Some one else made a few complimentary remarks in German, and several speeches were added in Russian. Before the evening was half over we were paying the most extravagant compliments to each other, and I have an indistinct recollection of trying somewhere about midnight to teach a big, fair-bearded captain "Auld lang syne," and to render "We twa ha' paid'lt i' the burn" into my own peculiar French, a task in which I was entirely unsuccessful.

We had quite a number of little dinner parties after this. One night General Komaroff, who afterwards commanded the Russians at the famous fight which goes down to history as the "Pendjeh incident," invited us to dine with him; and Stoker and I accepted, though Denniston was sick and obliged to stay at home. The general, who was then a young man, although he wore a beard and spectacles, treated us very hospitably, and had evidently spared no pains to make the entertainment a success. A regimental band stationed in the courtyard outside played English airs as a compliment to the visitors; and the menu, which began with a zacuska of caviare and anchovies, was a capital one. A small tumbler of raw absinthe was poured out for each guest to begin with; and as they insisted that I must drink mine in spite of all my protestations, I was nearly poisoned. Later on English bottled stout was served round gravely in wine glasses. How on earth it got to Erzeroum I could not make out, for the Russians do not drink stout; but it was evidently intended as a compliment to us, so I tossed mine down, much wondering.

Captain Pizareff, who lived in General Melikoff's house, asked me to go round and dine with him one night as the general was going out, and with great thoughtfulness my host sent round a Cossack with a spare horse for me. We had a capital dinner; but the only thing to drink was a big stone bottle full of Benedictine, which we finished between us. Pizareff was equal to the emergency. Late at night he sent me back to my own quarters with my Cossack guard doubled. I had a Cossack riding on each side of me to hold me on. They were jolly, good-humoured fellows, clad in heavy sheepskin overcoats; and they laughed immoderately every time I fell off my horse, which occurred three times during the journey of about a mile. On each of these occasions, as I sat disconsolately in the frozen snow, a melancholy figure in a long overcoat, boots, and spurs, and a sword which insisted in getting between my legs, my Cossacks replaced my fez on my head, deftly disentangled me from my sword, and hoisted me once more into the saddle. In spite of the terrible stories that one hears about them sometimes, I shall always have a warm corner in my heart for Cossacks.

Although we got on capitally with the Russian officers, the rank and file of the army of occupation behaved very badly to the few unfortunate Turkish soldiers who were left behind to recover from their wounds when the bulk of the sufferers were sent away. Whenever the Russian linesmen came across these poor devils crawling about the streets, they would jeer them and mock them first, and then beat them cruelly. I have seen half a dozen Russians attack a couple of wretchedly weak and emaciated Turks who were painfully creeping along the street, and kick them brutally, leaving them half dead by the side of the road.

Once Denniston, Stoker, and myself had a narrow escape. We had gone for a walk by ourselves outside of the town proper towards the redoubts, when we came upon a party of Russian infantrymen who were undisguisedly hostile. One fellow came up to me, said something in Russian, and then hit me a crack over the head which annoyed me so much that I went for him with my fists. Denniston and Stoker sailed in at the others; but the soldiers had their side arms with them, and it would have fared badly with us but for the sudden appearance of a Russian captain, who saw the affair, and came running to our assistance, revolver in hand. He knocked down my assailant with the pistol-butt for a start, and discharged such a volley of remarks at the others that they slunk off like beaten curs. We were grateful for his timely intervention, without which we would probably have been killed outright; and we paid due attention to his warning that it was dangerous to come unprotected so far from the town.

The comfort in which we lived at the consulate had not escaped the envy of some of the Russians, and one man in particular was consumed with jealousy when he saw the fine house in which we were quartered. This was General Heymann, who commanded the Russian column of assault at Devoi Boyun, and showed conspicuous bravery during the engagement. In fact, he was generally spoken of afterwards as the hero of Devoi Boyun. It seemed that about twenty years before the war he had been in Erzeroum, and had occupied the house, which was afterwards turned into the English Consulate. During the long months of discomfort while the army was encamped in the stinking little villages outside Erzeroum, General Heymann had buoyed himself up with the hope that as soon as the inevitable occupation arrived he would go back to his old quarters again; and when at last he got into the town, he was disgusted to find the house upon which he had set his heart in the occupation of some English doctors. His first move was to send an aide-de-camp to us with a request that we would vacate the house, which we at once declined to do. Then the trouble began. Although the fascinating pursuit of "draw poker" is not practised to any great extent in Russia, still that aide-de-camp was fully conversant with one of its leading features, and he set himself to play the game of bluff with great vigour. He began to bluster in great style, hoping that I would throw up my hand at once; but I went one better every time. At last he remarked that might was right, that the Russians were an army of occupation, and that if we did not go out of our house we would be turned out. I said that we certainly would not go unless turned out by force, and that as the Russian troops occupied the town under the terms of an armistice, and not as a consequence of a successful assault, they could not disturb us in our quarters. I closed the conversation by saying that if they turned Denniston, Stoker, and myself out of our house, I would telegraph to Lord Derby requesting him to make representations at St. Petersburg on the subject. Then I bowed out General Heymann's aide-de-camp. Next day, however, a communication arrived from the konak announcing that the general insisted that we should be turned out, and that the civil authorities of the town would be glad if we would leave quietly. This was rather too much, and I went up to the konak next day, taking Tom Rennison as an interpreter. I was shown into a room where Hakki Bey, the civil governor, and a number of Turkish and Armenian officials were discussing the situation. Here I stood up and made a speech, which was interpreted as I went along by Tom Rennison. I told them that we had come out there to help their sick and wounded, that two of our number had already died in their cause, and that the rest of us had risked our lives for them over and over again.

"We have done all this for you," I said; "we have cared for your wounded, and eased their sufferings; we have tended your sick, and sent them food and wine from our own table; and now, you ungrateful beggars, you want to turn us out of our own house. Well, we won't go." They listened very courteously to my exordium, which was translated into Turkish by the faithful Rennison; and when it was finished, I could see that I had made an impression. Our eviction was no longer insisted upon, and General Heymann had to content himself with a large house immediately opposite our quarters.

Some little time after this the French consul, M. Jardin, approached us, and used his influence with us, asking us if possible to humour the old general by granting his wish. Finally we agreed to do so, and I wrote a letter to General Heymann, saying that as a personal compliment to his excellency we would give him up the house. At the same time I warned him that there would be a risk attached to his occupancy, as we had had several cases of typhus in the house. He came over the same afternoon in great glee, bringing his dragoman with him to thank us, as he himself spoke nothing but Russian. He said that, being an old campaigner, he had no fear of typhus; and he marked his appreciation of the favour shown to him by presenting us with a box of four hundred cigars, which were most acceptable. Next day he sent us twenty soldiers to remove our baggage to the house which he was giving up; and when the moving was accomplished he entered into possession of the consulate. He went to bed feeling poorly on the very day that he got into his new quarters, and four days afterwards he was dead of typhus. Denniston, Stoker, and I all attended the poor old fellow's funeral, wondering at the strange fate that had allowed him to live through many a hard-fought fight only to let him die in his bed when the campaign was over.