n spirit, one meets occasionally in
Caucasian songs with the most delicate and graceful conceptions.
Contrast, for example, "The Song of Khamzat" or "The Death-Song of the
Chechense" with the following bit of Avarian poetry, which I have taken
the liberty of calling:

GLAMOUR.

Come out of doors, O mother! and see what a wonder is here:
Up through the snows of the mountain the flowers of spring
appear.
Come out on the roof, O mother! and see how along the ravine
The glacier-ice is covered with the springtime's leafy green!

There are no flowers, my daughter: 'tis only because thou art
young
That blossoms from under the mountain-snows appear to thee to
have sprung.
There is no grass on the glacier: the blades do not even start;
But thou art in love, and the grass and flowers are springing
in thy heart.

I have space for only one more specimen of Caucasian heroic literature,
a brief oration of Kazi Mullah, the friend and teacher of Shamyl and
the founder of Caucasian Muridism. An imperfect translation of this
speech will be found in Latham's _Races of the Russian Empire_. Copies
of it in Arabic were widely circulated throughout Daghestan immediately
after its delivery, and it probably contributed more than any other
single thing to bring on the general insurrection of the East Caucasian
mountaineers in 1832. In the spring of that year the inhabitants of a
small aoul or mountain-village in Central Daghestan--I think
Khunzakh--were assembled one evening in the walled courtyard of one of
its houses under the minaret of the village mosque for the purpose of
social enjoyment. Tradition relates that they were celebrating a
wedding. A fire had been built in the middle of the courtyard, and
around it picturesquely-dressed men and women were singing and dancing
to the accompaniment of fifes, kettledrums and tambourines. Suddenly
there appeared in the circular gallery of the minaret which overlooked
the courtyard the figure of a tall, gray-bearded stranger, a mullah,
whose green turban marked his lineal descent from the family of the
Prophet. He looked down for a moment with stern displeasure into the
fire-lighted courtyard, and then putting his hands to his lips chanted
the Mohammedan call to prayers. The music and merrymaking instantly
ceased, and the sweet weird chant rang out far and wi