A Winter's Journey (Tâtar,) from Constantinople to Tehran, with travels through various parts of Persia, etc

Front matter

A WINTER'S JOURNEY (TATAR,) FROM CONSTANTINOPLE TO TEHRAN ; WITH TRAVELS THROUGH VARIOUS PARTS OF PERSIA, &c. BY JAMES BAILLIE FRASER, ESQ. AUTHOR OF " A TOUR IN THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS," " THE KUZZILBASH," etc. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET in ©romarg to fter Plajf-Jtr». 1838. LONDON : PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, Dorset Street, Fleet Street. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD GLENELG, etc. etc. etc, whose enlightened policy suggested the objects, and mainly contributed to the performance, of the following journey, THESE VOLUMES ARE, WITH MUCH ESTEEM AND RESPECT, INSCRIBED BY HIS SINCERE AND FAITHFUL FRIEND, THE AUTHOR. London, 1st July 1838. ' . tern. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

Letter I

Leave London. — Road to Dover. — Reflections. — The Passage. — Calais. — Ricketty Carriage. — Air Pillows. — Liege. — Prussian Civility. — The Rhine. — Frankfort. — Wurtzburgh. — Gleam of Sunshine. — Ratisbon. — Aspect of Upper Bavaria — ■ and of its Peasantry — and Roads — contrasted with those of Prussia. — First peep of Austria. — Custom-house. — The Danube. — MSelk. — Reach Vienna. ..... Page 1

Letter II

Hungarian Villages. — Hogs. — Cattle. — Raab. — Cholera. — Change of Postilions. — Hungarian Roads — and " Turn-outs." — An Accident. — An Overturn. — Game Laws, and Chasses. — Arrival at Buda and Pest. — Break down second. — Christmas Morn. — Change of Costume. — Villages and Houses. — The Steppes. — Overturn third. — Hungarian Auberge — and Gipsies. — Tere zianople. — Nysotts. — Peterwardin. — Comparative Sketch of European Posting. — Semlin. . . . .27 27 vol. i. b CONTENTS. VI

Letter III

Semlin and Belgrad contrasted. — The Tatar-Aga. — A Tatar. — Turkish Posters. — Mistakes of Griffins, and consequences. — The Start. — Turkish Posting. — - First Post-house, and Meal. — Night March. — Servian Scenery. — Shepherd's Pipe. — Diffi culties of Communication. — Travelling Reflections. — A Halting place. — A Breakfast. — Valley of the Morava. — Nissa. — The Balcan. — New Year's Day. — A stormy Night. — Lose our way. — Sofia. — A Gallop. — A Catastrophe. — Ihtuman. — Tatar-hazarchick. — Philipopoli. — Eskew. -7- Cities of the Silent. — Hermanloo. — A Russian Courier. — Adrianople. — Bourgos. — Sillivria. — Reach Constantinople, and Therapa. . Page 69

Letter IV

The English Palace. — A Companion. — A Robbery. — Con stantinople — Its situation. — Mosques and Bazars. — Streets. — Costumes. — Turkish Women. — ■ Carnages. — Objects of interest. — " Les Ames Damnees." — Mustapha. — Sight seeing. — Slave Market. — Greek and Turkish holidays. . . 148

Letter V

Travelling arrangements. — Personal equipment. — " Provant." — Cemetery of Scutari. — Ismid Sabanja. — Wooden bridge. — A tumble. — Disappointment. — Duscheh. — Boli. — Cold ride to Gheriza. — Hamamlee. — Nervous paths. — A hard night's work. — Kajah Hissar. — Tosia. — Hajee-Humza. — Surmas-e-Kiayah. — Osmanjik. — A pass. — A bitter night. — Marsteewan. — Amasia. — Tocat. — Niskar. — Ascent to Armenia. — Kooli-Hissar Kara- Hissar. — Asevere stage. — Chifflic. — Armenian houses. — Charac teristic scenes. — Elma-Dagh. — Loree. — Kara. — Koulah. A Koordish village. — Thieves. — Ash-Kallah. — Reach Erze room. . . . . . . . .173 CONTENTS. VII

Letter VI

Erzeroom. — Russian benefits. — Turkish Officers and Soldiers. — Ancient buildings. — Leave Erzeroom. — Hassan Kallah. — Dellee Baba. — Pass of Deha. — Struggles in snow. — Topra Kallah. — Karaklissia. — Koords. — Euch-Klissia. — A bitter night and cold reception. — Diadeen. — Koordish Soorajees. — Ararat. — Bayazeed. — Koordish Guides. — The Kazlee-geul. — Defeated by snow. — Retrograde movement. — A struggle for Lodgings. — A feast. — Koordish moderation. — Koordish guards. — Return to Bayazeed. — Lodgings there. — ■ A singular rencontre. — Unavoidable delay. .... Page 253

Letter VII

Saduk Beg. — The Dervish. — An Evening Party. — Koordish- Hospitality. — Saduk Beg's gratitude. — State and History of Bayazeed. — The Pashah. — Patients. — Dervishes. — Death of Saduk Beg. — A rapacious Family. — A fresh Start. — Agajeek. — A Winter's Gale. — Delay. — Tumbles. — Kara Eineh. — A severe Stage. — A Caravan in Snow. — A Tendoor. — Primitive Groups. — Reach Khoee. — An old Friend. — Muleteers. — Leave Khoee. — Lak Ooroomia. — Tessouj. — Reach Tabreez. . 304

Letter VIII

Leave Tabreez. — Arrested by a Storm. — Caravanserai Gillekee. — Anecdote of Jehangeer Meerza. — Yaboo frozen. — A heavy stage. — Toorkomanchai. — Miana. — Humbugs. — Kafflan koh. - Serchum. — Zenjaun. — Sorry fare — A Gholaum-peish-khidmut. Sultanieh. — KhorumDerreh. — Siadehn. — A fray. — Casveen. — Mahomed Shereef Khan. — State of the country. — The Khan's advice — His exertions. — Leave Casveen. — Kishlac. — Suleema nieh. — Arrival at Tehran. . . . .^-'362

Preface

. The appearance of another book of travels in Persia by the same author who, more than twelve years ago, published a work on Khorasan, &c, may be thought to require some explanation. A few words will suffice for this purpose. After a period when the author of these works believed that his travelling days were over, — that he had hung up his " Uvida vestimenta" for good in the hall of his own home, his services were un expectedly required, and he was summoned once more to resume his well-worn cloak and riding gear for a winter journey of no ordinary severity, and another pilgrimage to those lands which he had tra versed already with so much interest as a younger man. No one possessed of ordinary feeling can revisit without emotion scenes of former adventure, im printed on the memory in the bright hues of first impressions and early success, mingled with the darker tones of failure, disappointment, or distress,

PREFACE.

. X all mellowed by the softening charm of distance, the golden haze of time, into a happy and fascinating picture. But how seldom to the traveller does the delight of those early recollections remain undiminished on a second view ? That principle of change, inherent in all sublunary things, operates with peculiar suddenness and activity in the East. On reaching each well-remembered spot, he views it under a new and sadder light. It has often changed in reality — he himself has changed still more surely ; a gloomier, a more pensive tone is thrown over all he sees, and he learns at length to school himself for suffering by anticipating disappointment. Seldom, indeed, can a comparison of the present with the past be made without pain. Much, assuredly, of pain and sadness, as well as of fatigue and anxiety, attended the wanderings which these Volumes record ; but still it was interesting to view the alterations which a dozen years had effected in a changeful country.

The nature of the author's public duty also, afforded him no common opportunities of observation ; and his route brought him into more than usual contact with the wild Toorkoman tribes of Northern Khorasan, en abling him to add considerably to the account of the habits and customs of that fierce and predatory people given in his former travels. He is thus led to hope that he may awaken in his readers a portion of that interest which he felt himself.

PREFACE.

. XI The present volumes contain an account of his Tatar journey to Tehran, and his progress through Khorasan, Mazunderan, &c, to Tabrez. A future part, if he is spared to prepare it, will describe his further travels, through parts of Koordistan and Mesopotamia till then chiefly unvisited and unde scribed by Europeans. These districts are, as is well known, peculiarly interesting from their numerous remains of antiquity ; nor do they possess a less lively attraction in their living inhabitants, the Koordish and Arab tribes, with whom the Author's route brought him into intimate contact, and with whose character and manners he had thus an op portunity of becoming acquainted. Thus much he has thought it right to premise, not by way of allurement or apology, — for these are not the days in which the public can be wheedled into reading a dull book by specious prefaces or modest pretences, — but simply that the reader may have some notion of the subjects to which his atten tion is invited, the ground over which he has to travel, and the title the Author may have to his consideration.

If the work shall tend, in however small a degree, to excite interest in, and direct the public eye towards regions and nations that are far too little known in this country, it will not have been without its reward. London, July 1838. A WINTER'S JOURNEY FROM CONSTANTINOPLE TO TEHRAN.

Letter I

Leave London. — Road to Dover. — Reflections. — The Passage. — Calais. — Ricketty Carriage. — Air Pillows. — Liege. — Prussian Civility. — The Rhine Frankfort Wurtzburgh. — Gleam of Sunshine Ratisbon. — Aspect of Upper Bavaria — and of its Peasantry — and Roads — Contrasted with those of Prussia. — First peep of Austria. — Custom-house. — The Danube. — Moelk. — Reach Vienna. Vienna, December 183S. Dear , You see that I lose no time in complying with your injunctions, for this is the first halting-place from whence I could easily have addressed you. You know how long and anxiously I had waited for the " laissez aller !" — how many times in vain I had to " plod my weary way " between the " Club " latitudes of Pall-Mali and the official regions of Downing Street. But at length " all was accom- VOL. I. B PARTING FEELINGS. 2 plished :" my final instructions were delivered me, (my private arrangements had long since been com pleted,) and at ten o'clock on the night of the 10th instant I quitted the cheerful club-room for the last time, and took my way to the Foreign-Office, where I had still to receive despatches. , It is a strange thing, that mixture of gladness and disturbance with which, at the moment of departure, we view the inanimate objects with which long acquaintance has made us familiar, yet which a long involuntary detention has occasioned us to regard with weariness, if not disgust.

It is then that the comforts to which these very objects may have contributed rise up in judgment against us, and we feel a twinge of remorse, as if we had been guilty of ingratitude to a friend. I know that, as I cast my eyes for the last time around the neat little room with its snug French bed that had so often received my weary limbs — as I threaded the streets and alleys I had trodden so often, and as I saw the great fold ing-doors of the Club-house close behind me upon its gorgeous apartments and delightful library, my most seducing retreat for so many months, — something very like a sigh rose in my throat in spite of joy at the accomplishment of my wishes. Truly our life is of a mingled yarn, when even the attainment of our most earnest desire is not unattended by a shade of gloom !

The truth is, there is always something in the word " farewell !" which unstrings the nerves however powerfully ex cited ; and I should have little respect for the man who could leave the dumb and lifeless things by THE DEPARTURE. 3 which he has been long surrounded, perhaps " for ever," — that little heart-breaking sentence, — without a pang of the kind I have been describing. What then must be our feelings towards animated beings, — towards the objects of our friendship and our affection ? But it will not do to think of such things at such a time ; we should never get on. Therefore, suppose all these matters duly got over, hands heartily shaken, warm adieus and kind wishes exchanged, and myself wrapped in my travelling cloak, striding away with firm step and resolved brow to Downing Street, — rain falling and wind blowing hard, — a long bustling hour or two of sealing and directing papers, and packing of white sheepskin bags, during which time I warm myself at the last good sea-coal fire I may see for some time, and chat over the impend ing journey with the gentlemen of the office.

At one in the morning all was ready. The sharp rattle of the post-chaise coming up to the door an nounced that the moment of action was come. I threw my bags into one corner of it, and myself into the other ; — bang went the door ; — " All right ?" briskly demanded the postilion ; — " All right, — go on," responded the porter in a tone of more import ance ; and in another minute we were tearing away over Westminster Bridge at the rate of twelve miles an hour, through a perfect tempest. It was a strong contrast to the calm tenor of the few preceding months, — a violent transition from the quiescent state I had so long endured. I could not help wondering if all were real, as the carriage b THE ROAD TO DOVER. rattled along that great thoroughfare of exit and entrance to England. " And what," says a de servedly popular author, speaking of another of these great vomitories, " what can be fuller of inter est to the minds of our fellow-subjects than this important thoroughfare?

It is one of the great paths of our nation, that leads the anxious merchant to his foreign store, the seaman to his fearful trade ; on which the devoted lover journeys from his anxious mistress, the faithful husband from his constant wife. Along that road, how many a noble soldier has travelled to where there is no return ! — how many British sailors have sped to death or victory ! How little does it strike the ordinary admirers of well-appointed public carriages, who stand and praise the ' neat turn-out' and the ' well-bred cattle' of these coaches, what varied interest often hangs upon their wheels ! — nor, as they roll along the level ground, does the casual observer often think what feelings, what hopes, what doubts, what fears, what anticipations, and what regrets, are pent within their panels."

Who that has travelled much, and reflected at all, does not feel the force and truth of these remarks ? — and though the road to Dover may possibly yield to that of Portsmouth in point of variety, it will scarcely be thought to do so in intensity of interest. Along it do the youth of our English aristocracy, at length escaped from more rigid tuition, hurry to scour the Continent in their travelling chariots, or to spend their time, and money, and health, in the gay debaucheries of foreign capitals. Along it, too, THE PASSAGE. 5 proceeds with painful slowness the wasted invalid, who, worn out with sickness and suffering at home, sacrifices feelings and comfort to — die far from friends and family in a distant land. Along it dash at speed those couriers who are charged with the counsels of the wise and the great — on whose far thels are borne the destinies of Europe and the world ! — But if we stay to describe all who travel on this well-known road, we shall never get on ourselves ; so suppose the well-paid postilions vying in rapidity of motion with each other, the hours and the carriage rolling on, and the latter entering the town of Dover and stopping at Wright's at eight o'clock, (just seven hours from London,) and in time to get a bit of breakfast and whip into the foreign mail packet, having passed the coach itself on the road.

The packet-boat was crowded. It blew fresh, with a short, jobbling sea, so that every soul was sick ; and had it not been for my own discomfort, I could have laughed heartily to see the cabin-boys preparing the piles of basins for the use of future invalids. But it was very tragical mirth to me as well as others ; so I got possession of a tolerable spot to lie down on, and lifted my head no more. A passage of two hours and a half, rough and stormy, and sick — sick, took us to Calais, where all the little boys speak such surprisingly good French. Two hours more served to settle all matters with the Custom-house, to change my money into five-franc pieces, and to purchase and dispose my baggage in a very neat, purpose-like britchka, furnished by the obliging M. Quillac, who guaranteed CALAIS. its carrying me without accident to Vienna ; and the second hour after noon saw me rolling along the level French road towards Brussels.

One word, however, of Calais in passing. I could not help being struck with the order that was observed in our crowded boat, and on the more crowded pier, as we came to, and prepared to disgorge our various passengers and other property, so unlike what occurs on a similar occasion in England. Two soldiers were instantly posted, to prevent all access to or from the vessel of any but those who had real business ; and even the commissaires from the hotels did not press forward until they were called, when, bringing their own porters, they took up your baggage and at once proceeded to the Custom-house. Again, it is an advantage to strangers to have all petty charges paid by these commissaires, who, though they or their masters may fleece such birds of passage to a certain extent, prevent others from doing so in the manner so shamefully common when a foreigner lands in England.

The contrast between English and French post ing has been a thousand times remarked ; but it is so ludicrously strong, that no one to whom it is not familiar can fail to be struck with it. The fantas tically-dressed postilions, with their laced jackets and huge jack-boots ; their long whip, with its eternal crick-crack-crock ; the poor jades of horses, har nessed with ropes, often even to the very bridle reins, such as you would scarcely look for as the trappings of a wild Highland garron, and going scarce six miles an hour, — replace most woefully A RICKETTY VEHICLE. 7 the neat set-out, the capital horses, and the dashing speed of the English road. But, n'importe ! on we go through the flat and uninteresting environs of Calais, with their ditches and pollard willows ; but night comes on soon in the month of December, and darkness speedily covered the land.

I was not permitted to travel long in uninterrupt ed comfort. My carriage, though guaranteed by M. Quillac, was frail and somewhat stricken in years. Before morning it gave evidence of this in the breaking of the fastenings of both swingle-trees, which it cost me more than half-an-hour to repair at Cassel ; and, on approaching Halle, a beggar, who was very importunate, and whom I was disposed rather rudely to dismiss as he ran alongside the car riage, earned charity and reward at once by giving notice that one of the fastenings of a hind-spring had given way. This also cost some time to repair, and, to my sorrow, prevented me from reaching Brussels before dark : so I passed through this gorgeous city of interesting recollections, a snow-storm adding to the gloom of the night, and, only stopping for a few minutes to take up some further despatches at the English ambassador's, entered upon a long and dreary paved road, cut up by the effect of weather, every stone of which made my ricketty vehicle groan and creak in a very alarming style.

It was not without reason that I mistrusted the strength of my carriage ; for, some miles before en tering St. Tronde, I had been sensible of a strange alteration in the nature of its movement, and, on changing horses at that town, we discovered that AIR PILLOWS. one fore and one hind spring were broken. The hour alone would have prevented speedy repair ; but, upon inquiry, I was told that St. Tronde could boast of no smith skilled in repairing springs, so there was no remedy but to push on for Liege, two stages further, where a good coachmaker might be found, at the risk of sticking entirely by the way, — a pro spect which, in a night of storm and snow, was in nowise inviting We, therefore, tied up the fractured parts as well as we could with ropes : and you may conceive my anxiety and uneasiness as the infirm machine bumped over the rough pavement for seven mortal hours, for so long was it ere the concern was deposited— in safety, thank God — within the court of the Aigle Noir at Liege.

And here let me pause to pay a just tribute to one of the greatest comforts in the way of inventions that has been of late bestowed upon travellers, — I mean the air-pillow of India-rubber-cloth made by Messrs. Mackintosh and Co. and others. I had pur chased one for quite another purpose ; but finding, after a few hours, that the stuffing of the back of the carnage had been worn so bare as to leave almost exposed a cross-bar, to the serious annoyance of my shoulders, I took out my pillow, and, slightly inflat ing it, interposed it between myself and the offend ing part. The effect was perfect, the relief instant ; — the pillow accommodated itself at will to any position I pleased, and formed the most delightful support that art could have contrived. I have no doubt that, but for it, I should have been almost knocked up in the long-run : with it, I continued LIEGE. — AIX. 9 not only fresh and unwearied, but comfortable.

Let all travellers, therefore, who love their ease, provide themselves with such an air-pillow. The repairs of the carriage occupied about fourteen hours, during which time a severe headach prevented me from seeing much of the town : but, indeed, the continued fall of snow would at all events have done that ; and I regretted it, as both the town and its environs appeared worthy of attention. As it was, there was nothing struck me so much as the enormous quantities of cabbage in the markets, and the large hats of the women, or the handkerchiefs on their heads, chiefly red, or spotted with red. In the shops, all the young women were bareheaded, and many of them very pretty. At eight o'clock we quitted Liege, and were jolted along an execrable road to Aix-la-Chapelle : a capital trial for the new springs, and my temper, or rather patience, for I was in momentary expecta tion that the whole fabric would go to wreck, and leave me helpless on the road, — which, as snow and sleet never ceased, would have been a most undesir able consummation.

On entering the Prussian territories, I was in stantly struck with a very agreeable change of tone in all I came in contact with : the authorities, or at least their delegates at the gates, were perfectly civil, the postilions better and more obliging, and, after passing through a sandy tract near Aix, the road greatly improved. In the grey of the morning we reached Cologne, of which I saw little more than the summits of its lofty buildings ; and I regret that I THE RHINE. — COBLENTZ. 10 can say scarcely more of the beautiful valley of the Rhine from thence to Coblentz, where I dined and discussed a flask of its pleasant wine. Something, indeed, of grand and imposing did occasionally burst into view during the intermissions of the storm, and the mountains and castellated rocks loomed more magnificent through the dull haze and clouds that enveloped them; and, as sometimes we ap proached the noble river, it was beautiful to see them all reflected in its swift stream, broken into uncertainty by the occasional gusts.

It was suf ficiently provoking to see just enough to whet the appetite, and no more : but who can tell? — mystery always excites interest, and, though I regretted to lose so much fine scenery, and saw the vine-covered hills and plains, and the multitudes of picturesque buildings and villages, flitting past me with regret, it is possible that, fully seen, the landscape might have been less pleasing. I am sure, however, that in spring and early summer it must be enchanting. Darkness and continued rain hid everything of Coblentz from me as I entered it, — even the bridge by which I crossed the river to reach it was undis tinguishable ; but the lights flashed brilliantly along the banks, and cheerless enough I felt it, plunging once more into the darkness to push on towards Frankfort. We passed the fortified town of May ence with its pretty gardens and orchards, in early morning, and reached the Englishers Hoff hotel at Frankfort about eleven o'clock.

Bad as the weather was, I was charmed with the whole country around Mayence and Frankfort ; indeed, all the way from FRANKFORT. 11 Cologne it was like a perfect garden, and even the open fields were studded with fruit-trees. The roads too were excellent, and in many places I observed a very respectable approximation towards macadam zation. I may here remark, that I found the posting better in Belgium than in France, and in Prussia superior to either ; horses far better, postilions more civil, and less time lost in changing. Frankfort is a handsome town, and on the Sun day-morning, when we entered it, presented a pleasant spectacle. All ranks were going to church, clad in their sabbath clothes. The lower orders, with their sober garb and staid gate, reminded me of the men of the Scottish Lowlands.

The blue wag goner's frock and foraging-cap are much worn by the young, and I remarked that most of them had a military air — no doubt caught from the military people by whom the place is surrounded. Of the women several were very pretty, but too much dis posed to embonpoint. The chaussSes of Belgium and the roads of Aix-la- Chapelle having shaken my poor carriage, Sunday though it was, it became necessary to have it repaired. This detained me till eight at night, when I left Frankfort in a perfect storm. The wind was high, and the rain beat in so fast, that I congratulated myself at having provided a good fur cloak, and bag for my feet ; a precaution which some sharp suffering on the preceding night had induced me to take. The morning found us among hills rather of a bleak character, though varied in many places with oak and stunted fir, and cultivated in some WURTZBURGH. parts to the top with corn or vineyards.

The hollows, too, were occupied by neat little villages, from the centre of each of which arose its spire. It was, no doubt, a populous country. Towards eleven o'clock we came down upon Wurtzburgh, the first city of Bavaria ; and a picturesque town it is, with its cupolas and minarets, and spires, that have a tinge of Saracenic architecture, lying as it does low in the valley of the Maine, surrounded by richly-clad hills, and crowned by its striking and noble castle. The old bridge, by which we reached the city, adorned with numerous statues of saints and bishops, in stone, particularly attracted my attention ; and so many buildings did there seem worthy of examination, that I deeply regretted the necessity which forced me to forego all objects but that of getting forward. The Bavarian government is more jealous and strict on the subject of passports than those of France, Belgium, or Prussia ; and the examination of mine, courier as I was, cost a delay of an hour and a half.

The view of the town, as we looked back upon it from a height, was particularly fine ; but the country around it is not very inviting, and the roads were so bad, that, as night closed in, it became a matter of painful anxiety to know how the carriage would stand the heavy jolts. To add to my unea siness, just about dusk, and at the beginning of a very long stage, we got a drunken postilion, who seemed resolved to overset the carriage, or, at least, to try how near he could go to each side-ditch with out doing so. Darkness and uncertainty are the DRUNKEN POSTILION. 13 parents of anxiety and alarm ; and when to these is added utter ignorance of the language and a want of confidence in your own people, perplexity is in creased tenfold. Suppose, for instance, that the carriage had been overturned or broken in some part of the road far from any of the thinly-scattered villages, what reliance could I have placed in the exertions of the drunken boor who drove it for pro curing assistance? while I myself, tied to the spot by the necessity of guarding my charge, and, in fact, unable from ignorance of the localities around me to take any step for extricating the vehicle, must have stood there until relieved by casual passers-by next morning.

It was by no means a pleasant situation, I assure you ; and all thought of sleep, or even rest, was out of the question. We got through, however, by the goodness of Providence, and a dull morning broke upon a high bleak country, partially covered with dark and stunted forests of fir, much of which seemed in a state of decay. We breakfasted at Nieumarkt, a mean-looking place, affording, however, a comfortable auberge : and a little after quitting it, for the first time since leaving London, the sky began to clear and the sun to shine out bright. The black clouds that had hung over us so low that they seem ed resting on the earth broke and let in the light, and all the scene was changed. One must have travelled as I had done for several days and nights during a continued suc cession of stormy weather, wet, cold, and comfort less, with the fear of an overturn or break -down REFLECTIONS. continually before my eyes, to appreciate the effect of such a change not only on external objects, but on the mind that regards them.