hat of all the people killed and hurt
during this bombardment of Giurgevo, not one was a Russian! This arose
from the fact that the soldiers were under the safe cover of their
batteries. The Turkish shells did not produce any real damage to works
or men. In short, all that was accomplished in this noisy display of
the "art of war" was the destruction of many private houses, the killing
and maiming of several civilians, including women and children, and a
shameful waste of very expensive ammunition, partly paid for by the
sufferers. In contemplating these facts, the word "glory" assumed a
very strange and quite a new meaning in my mind.

Soon we were beyond the reach of Turkish missiles, though still within
sound of the guns. Our pace showed that we were making what I suppose
my military friends would style a forced march. Nicholas was evidently
unwilling to converse on the object of our march, but at length gave way
a little.

"I see no harm," he said, "in telling you that we are about to cross the
Danube not far from this, and that at least one of my objects is to
secure a trustworthy intelligent spy. You know--perhaps you don't
know--that such men are rare. Of course we can procure any number of
men who have pluck enough to offer themselves as spies, for the sake of
the high pay, just as we can get any number of men who are willing to
jump down a cannon's throat for the honour and glory of the thing."

"Yes," said I, interrupting, "men like our friend Nicholas
Naranovitsch!"

"Well, perhaps," he replied, with a light laugh, "but don't change the
subject, Jeff, you've got a bad tendency to do so. I say there is no
difficulty in getting spies; but it is not easy to find men well
qualified for such work. Now one has been heard of at last, and, among
other things, I am commissioned to secure him for the purpose of leading
our troops across the Balkans."

"The Balkans!" said I, in surprise; "you are a long way from that
range."

"The length of any way, Jeff, depends not so much upon the way as on the
spirit of him who measures it. Ten miles to one man is a hundred miles
to another, and _vice versa_."

I could make no objection to that, for it was true. "Nevertheless,"
said I, after a pause, "there may be spirits among the Turks who could
render that, which is only a few days' journey in ordinary
circumstances, a six months' business to the Russians."

"Admitted heartily," returned Nicholas, with anima