most novel and picturesque appearance, as it cantered away across the grassy plateau.
The day was warm and sunshiny, but clouds were drifting occasionally across the snow-clad peaks south of the village, diversifying their sides with moving areas of purple shadow and increasing the impression of great height that they made upon one. The road, which was dry, hard, and in good condition, crossed the little valley just above the village and then ran along the slopes of the southern mountains through an open, park-like forest of larch, poplar, and silver birch. Flowers were blossoming everywhere in almost incredible luxuriance and profusion. The sunny stretches of grass in the forest openings were embroidered with dark-blue gentians, wild pansies, forget-me-nots, and delicate fringed pinks; in moister, cooler places stood splendid ultramarine spikes, eight feet high, of aconite, and here and there, on the brink of the valley, were white drifts of spirea covering areas of from twenty to fifty square feet with dense masses of snowy bloom.
All along the road, where it ran through the open forest, we noticed ant-hills, four or five feet in height, swarming with large black ants. As we passed one of them Mrs. Maiéfski handed her white cambric handkerchief to a Kírghis horseman, and told him to throw it upon the hill and then give it to me. The handkerchief no sooner touched the hill than it was black with startled ants. After allowing them to run over it for three or four seconds the Kírghis, who had evidently seen this experiment tried before, caught it up dexterously by one corner, gave it a quick, sharp flirt to free it from the insects, and then handed it to me.
"Smell of it," said Mrs. Maiéfski. I obeyed, and was surprised to discover that, although perfectly dry to the touch, it affected the nostrils precisely as if it had been saturated with aromatic vinegar. It had acquired this odor in the few seconds that it had lain upon the ant-hill. I then tried the same experiment with my own handkerchief. After the
