vailed, and in the evening, on arriving at Haliptchi, where they
were to pass the night, the postillions eagerly moved down upon the
vessels of water and camel's milk which the women and children had made
ready for them. A violent altercation ensued, because one of the Hagars
of the desert had allowed a stranger to drink before her husband had
been supplied. The latter emptied out the contents of the vessel and
threw some at the head of his immodest wife, amidst the shouts and
laughter of the shepherds." This scene reminded Madame de Bourboulon of
the Bible and the age of the patriarchs.

Quitting the desert of the Gobi, our travellers entered the country of
the Khalkhas, a region of great forests, pasturages, and crystal rivers;
but even this earthly paradise of bloom, verdure, and freshness was not
without its dangers. We take an extract, in illustration of them, from
Madame de Bourboulon's journal:--

"I rode on horseback this morning," she says, "enticed by the aspect of
the beautiful green prairies of Tairene. My horse bounded over their
surface, and giving him the reins I allowed myself to traverse the plain
in a furious gallop, lulled by the dull sound of his hoofs, which a
thick carpet of grasses deadened, paying no heed to anything around me,
and lost in a profound reverie. Suddenly I heard inarticulate cries
behind me, and as I turned to ascertain their cause, I felt myself
pulled by the sleeve of my vest; it was a Mongolian of the escort, who
had been sent in pursuit of me. He lowered first one hand and then
another, imitating with his fingers the gallop of a runaway horse; at
length, perceiving that I did not understand, he pointed fixedly to the
soil. My presence of mind returned; I had an intuition of the danger
which I had escaped, and I discovered that the animation of our horses
was not due to the charm of green pasture, but to fear, the fear of
being swallowed up alive. The ground disappeared under their feet, and
if they remained still they would sink into the treacherous bogs which
do not restore their victims. I tremble still when I think of the peril
I have escaped; my horse, better served by its instinct than I by my
intelligence, had dashed onwards, while I perceived nothing: a few paces
more and I was lost!

"White vapours, rising from the earth, gave our postillions a fantastic
appearance; one might have mistaken them for black shadows of gigantic
proportions, mounted upon transparent and mic