that was predicted for us, should we ever attempt
the ascent of Mount Ararat through the lawless Kurdish tribes upon its
slopes. Our first duty, therefore, was to see the mutessarif of Bayazid,
to whom we bore a letter from the Grand Vizir of Turkey, in order to
ascertain what protection and assistance he would be willing to give us.
We found with him a Circassian who belonged to the Russian camp at
Sardarbulakh, on the Ararat pass, and who had accompanied General Chodzko
on his ascent of the mountain in 1856. Both he and the mutessarif thought
an ascent so early in the year was impossible; that we ought not to think
of such a thing until two months later. It was now six weeks earlier than
the time of General Chodzko's ascent (August 11 to 18), then the earliest
on record. They both strongly recommended the northwestern slope as being
more gradual. This is the one that Parrot ascended in 1829, and where
Abich was repulsed on his third attempt. Though entirely inexperienced in
mountain-climbing, we ourselves thought that the southeast slope, the one
taken by General Chodzko, the English party, and Mr. Bryce, was far more
feasible for a small party. One thing, however, the mutessarif was
determined upon: we must not approach the mountain without an escort of
Turkish zaptiehs, as an emblem of government protection. Besides, he would
send for the chief of the Ararat Kurds, and endeavor to arrange with him
for our safety and guidance up the mountain. As we emerged into the
streets an Armenian professor gravely shook his head. "Ah," said he, "you
will never do it." Then dropping his voice, he told us that those other
ascents were all fictitious; that the summit of "Masis" had never yet been
reached except by Noah; and that we were about to attempt what was an
utter impossibility.

In Bayazid we could not procure even proper wood for alpenstocks. Willow
branches, two inches thick, very dry and brittle, were the best we could
obtain. Light as this wood is, the alpenstocks weighed at least seven
pounds apiece when the iron hooks and points were riveted on at the ends
by the native blacksmith, for whom we cut paper patterns, of the exact
size, for everything we wanted. We next had large nails driven into the
souls of our shoes by a local shoemaker, who made them for us by hand out
of an old English file, and who wanted to pull them all out again because
we would not pay him the exorbitant price he demanded. In buying
provisions fo