frontier. In the second place, exploration of these wild mountain fastnesses has always been attended with great difficulty. In the high alpine valleys, and on the elevated plateaus of the main range, snow falls to a great depth in winter; the short summer begins late; the streams that rise among the colossal peaks of the Great Altái are generally torrents and flow through deep, rugged, almost impassable gorges until they descend to the level of the foot-hills; and the mountain walls that separate neighboring valleys are so high, rocky, and precipitous, that crossing them on horseback is difficult and dangerous, even when they are free from snow. There is only one practicable commercial route over the main range of the Altái between the Chúiski Alps and the right bank of the Írtish,—a distance of more than two hundred miles, —and this solitary route is a mere bridle-path, which crosses the desolate plateau of Ukéik and the precipitous water-shed of Úlan-dába at a height of 9260 feet. Of course in such a wilderness as this there was an ample field for enterprising explorers, but as our time was limited we decided, after a number of consultations with Captain Maiéfski, to content ourselves with an excursion to the peaks and glaciers of the Katúnski Alps.
The day of our departure happened to be Captain Maiéfski's namesday; and in order to celebrate it and at the same time to give us a pleasant "send-off," he invited a party of friends to go with us as far as the rapids of the Búkhtarmá river, about fifteen versts from the Station, and there have a picnic. When we started, therefore, we were accompanied by Captain Maiéfski and his wife and daughter, the Cossack atamán and his wife, a political exile named Zavalíshin and his wife, and three or four other officers and ladies. The party was escorted by ten or fifteen mounted Kírghis in bright-colored beshméts girt about the waist with silver-studded belts; and the cavalcade of uniformed officers, gaily dressed ladies, and hooded Kírghis presented a
