Mr.V----, a Russian, and overseer of the fishery, had made his hut as comfortable as circumstances would admit, and we were soon seated before a blazing fire (with a chimney!), discussing a plate of steaming shtchi, [C] washed down by a bottle of kaketi.

Roast mutton and pastry followed, succeeded by coffee and vodka (for we had the good luck to arrive at our host's dinner-hour).

By the time cigarettes were under way we felt fully equal to the long cold ride of fifteen miles that separated us from our night's halting-place, Alala Resht itself seemed at least thirty miles nearer than it had before dinner.
"You are bold," said Mr.V----, in French, "to attempt this journey at this time of year.

I do not mean as regards footpads and robbers reports concerning them are always greatly exaggerated; but the rivers are in a terrible state.

There is one just beyond Alala, that I know you cannot cross on horseback.