has never yet descended much, if any, below the snow line;
but I see no reason why it may not at some future time overwhelm the
settlement of Kluchei and fill the channel of the Kamchatka River with
a fiery flood.

The volcano, so far as I know, has never been ascended, and its
reported height, 16,500 feet, is probably the approximative estimate
of some Russian officer. It is certainly, however, the highest peak
of the Kamchatkan peninsula, and is more likely to exceed 16,000 feet
than fall below it. We felt a strong temptation to try to scale its
smooth snowy sides and peer over into its smoking crater; but it
would have been folly to make the attempt without two or three weeks'
training, and we had not the time to spare. The mountain is nearly a
perfect cone, and from the village of Kluchei it is so deceitfully
foreshortened that the last 3,000 feet appear to be absolutely
perpendicular. There is another volcano whose name, if it have any,
I could not ascertain, standing a short distance south-east of the
Kluchefskoi, and connected with it by an irregular broken ridge. It
does not approach the latter in height, but it seems to draw its fiery
supplies from the same source, and is constantly puffing out black
vapour, which an east wind drives in great clouds across the white
sides of Kluchefskoi until it is sometimes almost hidden from sight.

We were entertained at Kluchei in the large comfortable house of the
_starosta_, or local magistrate of the village. The walls of our room
were gayly hung with figured calico, the ceiling was covered with
white cotton drill, and the rude pine furniture was scoured with soap
and sand to the last attainable degree of cleanliness. A coarsely
executed picture, which I took to be Moses, hung in a gilt frame in
the corner; but the sensible prophet had apparently shut his eyes to
avoid the smoke of the innumerable candles which had been burned in
his honour, and the expression of his face was somewhat marred in
consequence. Table-cloths of American manufacture were spread on the
tables, pots of flowers stood in the curtained windows, a little
mirror hung against the wall opposite the door, and all the little
fixtures and rude ornaments of the room were disposed with a taste and
a view to general effect which the masculine mind may admire but never
can imitate. American art, too, had lent a grace to this cottage in
the wilderness, for the back of one of the doors was embellished with
pi