nguished Russian general whose gallantry in battle had
won their respect. The serpent, in the Caucasus, is the Cardinal
Mezzofanti of the brute world. To know as many languages as a serpent is
the _ne plus ultra_ of polyglot erudition. A swaggering coward is
compared to a drunken mouse; and many a boaster on the porch of the
Caucasian village mosque has been silenced by some sceptical bystander
with the well-known quotation from a popular beast-fable: "'What has
become of all the cats?' inquired the drunken mouse." Of the Caucasian
beast-fables the following is a characteristic specimen:

_The Jackal and the Fox._--Once upon a time a hunter set a trap and
baited it with a piece of fat mutton. Along came a hungry fox and
discovered it, but, not daring to approach it, she proceeded to walk
round and round it at a distance. In the mean time she was joined by a
jackal. The fox asked the jackal where he was going. "Oh, I am almost
dead with hunger," replied the jackal. "I started to go to the village
in search of something to eat, but I am afraid of the dogs."--"Well,
Brother Jackal," said the fox, "I know a place not far from here where
there lies a big piece of fat mutton: how would you like that?"--"Why
don't you eat it yourself?" inquired the jackal.--"I'm now keeping
_oroozh_" [a Mohammedan fast], said the fox, "but I'll show it to you."
Whereupon she led the jackal to the trap. Hardly had the jackal seized
the mutton when the trap sprung and caught him by the neck. In trying to
free himself by shaking his head he dislodged the bait, which rolled
away to one side. This was all that the fox had waited for: she quickly
seized the mutton, and sat down composedly to eat it. "Here!" exclaimed
the jackal: "I thought you said you were keeping a fast, and now you are
eating."--"I was," replied the fox, "but I have seen the moon,[6] and
now I am having a holiday."--"But when am I going to have my holiday?"
asked the jackal.--"When the owner of the trap comes," answered the fox,
and so saying walked away.

Most of the Caucasian literature to which I have hitherto had occasion
to refer is the reflection of the lighter, more genial side of the
mountaineer's character, and taken alone would give the impression that
he is an amiable, jovial, good-humored fellow with a keen sense of the
ludicrous and little knowledge of, or feeling for, the sorrows, the
sufferings and the tragedies of life. Such an impression, however, would
be a who