This wretched attempt at cultivation was
unaccompanied by the presence of towns;
indeed, the travellers soon found that those
communities do not exist in Circassia, the
nearest approach to them being the scattered
habitations which constitute their villages.
According to its natural configuration, the
country is divided into districts, forming each
a separate tribe, with an absolute chief who
calls himself a Bey; the villages are under
the authority of a sheik, and these are sub-
divided into groups of huts, forming one
family, the head of which is master of all
that belongs to it. These families occupy six
or eight, or even a greater number, of clay-
built huts, rising about six feet above the
ground, and ranged in a circular form in a
species of enclosure. Weeds and climbing
plants grow over them in such profusion,
that, at a distance, they are not to be
distinguished from the brushwood of the
forests.

At one of these enclosures the expedition
halted and dismounted, being told that there
they were to pass the night. An old man
came forward to offer the hospitality of his
dwellings; and, having performed this feat
with a multitude of untranslateable gestures,
took himself off, and did not make his
appearance again. Ibrahim Bey and the escort
rode away also, and the French officers were
left to make it out as well as the customs of
the country permitted, having received a hint
from the Hungarian colonel that they were
to ask for nothing, but wait patiently for
what was offered.

In the group of huts which constitute a
Circassian family, one cabin is always set
apart for strangers, and into this revered
asylum, which consists of a single apartment
about fifteen feet long by nine wide, the
travellers were introduced. It had a very
low, narrow door, one very small, glazed
casement, and an enormous chimney-place,
which filled one side of the chamber; the
furniture was of the scantiest—a very thin
mattrass and a few bundles of reeds supplying
the place of beds, sofas, chairs, tables,
and other civilised appurtenances. Obedient
to the instructions of Mehemet Pasha, the
officers of the expedition and the Crimean
prince in the satin waistcoat sat down on the
floor, and waited for dinner. At the expiration
of about half an hour, by which time
the cravings of hunger had reached an almost
uncontrollable point, the doorway was
darkened by figures who brought in—
nothing, alas! to eat or drink, but the
saddles and bridles of the officers' horses,
which were picketted for the night on
some removed ground. It was, however,
a note of preparation; for, shortly afterwards,
a warrior made his appearance, carrying,
with great difficulty, an enormous
lacquered bowl, containing about five
quarts of fresh water, sweetened with
honeycomb.

"It was not disagreeable," says Dr. Jeannel,
"only the little bits of wax stuck in our
throats." The next proceeding, as the evening
was drawing in, was to light a fire,
candles being out of the question, and, gathering
round it, the expedition quietly waited for
the expected entertainment. Another half-
hour went by, and then a brace of warriors
came into the hut, bearing a basin of vast
diameter, raised on wooden tressels. which
they set in the midst. It was found that
the basin was filled, to the depth of four
fingers, with a stiff, hot, unsalted porridge,
made of millet flour and water. This
porridge is called paste, and is the principal
aliment of the Circassians, serving them for
bread. But the basin contained something
else. Reposing on the surface of this edible
lava, was a whole boiled sheep cut into
pieces, some of them of a couple of pounds
weight; there were besides slices of fried
bacon, somewhat rancid, and square bits of
wheaten cake fried in butter; and, to
complete the Homeric dish, in the very centre of
the paste was a white soup plate filled with
a sauce made of honey and melted butter,
with fragments of toasted cheese floating on
the top. Dr. Jeannel estimates the weight
of the food in the basin at not less than forty
pounds (twenty kilogrammes), but, he says,
"this fearful dish (cette affreuse mangeaille)
was arranged with a certain degree of
symmetry." M. de la Valette, the doctor, the
commissariat officer, and the Tatar prince in
the satin waistcoat, first set to work; each
seized a piece of mutton, disposing of it by
the aid of teeth and claws, and stuffed
himself well with paste and wheaten cake, the
prince betraying a remarkable relish for the
rancid bacon and the cheesey sauce, but by
no means neglecting the pièce de résistance.
Whatever they did not consume, bones or
untouched fragments, was scrupulously left
in the basin, and when they ceased to eat,
from sheer inability to continue, the breach
which they had made in the mass was hardly
apparent. The soldiers of the expedition next
took their turn, and then the two warriors
bore away the basin, and ten or a dozen of
the escort, who were waiting outside, devoted
their energies to a partial consumption of
the contents; after them the basin visited
the huts for the benefit of the warriors of the
family; the women, the children, and the
slaves succeeded to the delicate morsels;
and finally the bones were thrown to the
dogs, so that nothing eventually was lost.
The second course consisted of a batch of
honeycombs and more wheaten cake, and the
repast was crowned with a huge earthen pot,
containing at least twelve quarts of a kind of
soup, to eat which every one was offered a
wooden spoon for dipping in the common
reservoir. This potage, which was excessively
greasy, was made of mutton thickened
with flour and without salt, but in its stead
was an overwhelming quantity of—the