obliged to think of providing a lodging for the approaching | night. We had attained the extreme upper ridge of the rocky crest, an elevation of 14,560 Paris feet above the level of the sea, (the height of the top of Mount Blanc,) and yet the summit of Ararat lay far above us. I do not think that any insurmountable obstacle could have impeded our farther progress, but to spend the few remaining hours of day light in reaching this point would have been worse than madness, as we had not seen any rock on the summit which could have afforded us protection during the night; independently of which, our stock of provisions was not calculated to last so long. Having made our barometrical observations, we turned back, satisfied from the result that the mountain on this side was not inaccessible. In descending, however, we met with a danger which we had not anticipated; for if in the descent of every mountain you tread less safely than in going up, it is still more difficult to tread firmly, when you look down upon such a surface of ice and snow as that over which we had to pass for more than a werst, and where, if we slipped and fell, there was nothing to stop us but the sharp-pointed masses of stone in which the region of eternal ice loses itself. The danger here is perhaps rather in the want of habit than in real difficulties. My young friend, whose courage had probably been proof against severer trials, lost his presence of mind here-his foot slipped, and he fell; but, as he was about twenty paces behind me, I had time to thrust my pole firmly in the ice, to take a sure footing in my capital snow-shoes, and while I held the pole in my right hand, to catch him in passing with my left. My position was well chosen, but the straps which fastened my ice-shoes broke, and, instead of being able to stop my friend, I was carried with him in his fall. He was so fortunate as to be stopped by some stones, but I rolled on for half a werst, till I reached some fragments of lava near the lower glacier. The tube of my barometer was dashed to pieces -my chronometer burst open, and covered with bloodevery thing had fallen out of my pockets, but I escaped without severe injury. As soon as we had recovered from our fright, and thanked God for our providential escape, we collected the most important of our effects, and continued our journey. We were soon afterward delighted to hear the voice of our good Schak, who had very pradently waited for our return. Having made a fire, we passed the night in the grassy region, and on the third day reached the convent, where we were regaled with an excellent breakfast. We however took care not to tell the Armenians any thing about our accident, as they would certainly not have failed to ascribe it to a judgment from Heaven for our presumptuous attempt to reach the summit, which they say has been prohibited to mortals by a divine decree since the time of Noah. All the Armenians are firmly persuaded that Noah's ark exists to the present day on the summit of Mount Ararat, and that, in order to preserve it, no person is permitted to approach it. We learn the grounds of this tradition from the Armenian chronicles in the legend of a monk of the name of James, who was afterward Patriarch of Nissibus, and a contemporary and relative of St. Gregory. It is said that this monk, in order to settle the disputes which had arisen respecting the credibility of the sacred books, especially with reference to their account of Noah, resolved to ascend to the top of Ararat to convince himself of the existence of the ark. At the declivity of the mountain, however, he had several times fallen asleep from exhaustion, and found on awaking that he had been unconsciously carried down to the point from which he first set out. God at length had compassion on his unwearied though fruitless exertions, and during his sleep sent an angel with the message, that his exertions were unavailing, as the summit was inaccessible; but as a reward for his indefatigable zeal, he sent him a piece of the ark, the very same which is now preserved as the most valuable relic in the cathedral of Etschmaidsin. The belief in the impossibility of ascending Mount Ararat has, in consequence of this tradition, which is sanctioned by the church, almost become an article of faith, which an Armenian would not renounce even if he were placed in his own proper person upon the summit of the mountain.

[After recovering in some measure from the effects of his fall and an attack of fever which ensued, the professor set out on the 18th September to make a second at

tempt to gain the summit, taking with him a cross ten feet high, which it was proposed to set up on the top of the mountain, with an inscription in honour of Field Marsha. Count Paskewitsch, by whose victories the Russian dominions had been extended to this point. They chose this time the northeast side of the mountain, by which the way was much longer, but not so steep. But as this second attempt also failed, we pass over the account of it, and proceed without further preface to the third, which succeeded. They however erected the cross on an almost horizontal surface covered with snow, at the height of 15,138 Paris feet above the level of the Euxine, or about 350 feet higher than the summit of Mount Blanc.]

In the meantime the sky cleared up, the air became serene and calm, the mountain too was more quiet, the noise occasioned by the falling of the masses of ice and snow grew less frequent-in short, every thing seemed to indicate that a favourable turn was about to take place in the weather, and I hastened to embrace it for a third attempt to ascend the mountain. On the 25th September I sent to ask Stepan whether he would join us, but he declined, saying that he had suffered too much from the former excursion to venture again so soon; he however promised to send us four stout peasants with three oxen and a driver. Early the next morning, four peasants made their appearance at the camp to join our expedition, and soon after a fifth, who offered himself voluntarily. To them I added two of our soldiers. The deacon again accompanied us, as well as Mr. Hehn, who wished to explore the vegetation at a greater elevation; but he did not intend to proceed beyond the line of snow. The experience of the preceding attempt had convinced me that every thing depended on our passing the first night as closely as possible to this boundary, in order to be able to ascend and return from the summit in one day, and to confine our baggage to what was absolutely necessary. We therefore took with us only three oxen, laden with the clothing, wood, and provisions. I also took a cross carved in oak. We chose our route towards the same side as before, and, in order to spare ourselves, Abowiam and I rode on horseback, wherever the rocky nature of the soil permitted it, as far as the grassy plain Kip-Giholl, whence we sent the horses back. Here Mr. Hehn parted from us. It was scarcely twelve o'clock when we reached this point, and, after taking our breakfast, we proceeded in a direction rather more oblique than on our former attempt. The cattle were, however, unable to follow us so quickly. We therefore halted at some rocks which it would be impossible for them to pass-took each our own share of clothing and wood, and sent back the oxen. At half-past five in the evening we were not far from the snow line, and corsiderably higher than the place where we passed the night on our previous excursion. The elevation at this point was 13,036 Paris feet above the level of the sea, and the large masses of rock determined me to take up our quarters here. A fire was soon made, and a warm supper prepared. I had some onion broth, a dish which I would recommend to all mountain travellers in preference to meat broth, as being extremely warm and invigorating. This being a fast-day, poor Abowiam was not able to enjoy it. The other Armenians, who strictly adhered to their rules of fasting, contented themselves with bread and the brandy which I distributed among them in a limited quantity, as this cordial must be taken with great caution, especially where the strength has been previously much tried, as it otherwise produces a sense of exhaustion and inclination to sleep. It was a magnificent evening, and, with my eyes fixed on the clear sky, and the lofty summit which projected against it, and then again on the dark night which was gathering far below and around me, I experienced all those delightful sensations of tranquillity, love, and devotion, that silent reminiscence of the past, that subdued glance into the future, which a traveller never fails to experience when on lofty elevations, and under pleasing circumstances. I laid myself down under an overhanging rock of lava, the temperature of the air at 4 1-2 degrees, which was tolerably warm, considering our great height.

At daybreak we rose, and began our journey at halfpast six. We crossed the last broken declivities in half an hour, and entered the boundary of eternal snow nearly at the same place as in our preceding ascent. In consequence of the increased warmth of the weather, the new-fallen

snow, which had facilitated our progress on our previous ascent, had melted away, and again frozen, so that, in spite of the still inconsiderable slope, we were compelled to cut steps in the ice. This very much embarrassed our advance, and added greatly to our fatigue. One of the peasants had remained behind in our resting-place, as he felt unwell; two others became exhausted in ascending the side of the glacier. They at first lay down, but soon retreated to our quarters. Without being disheartened by these difficulties, we proceeded, and soon reached the great cleft which marks the upper edge of the declivity of the large glacier, and at ten o'clock we arrived at the great plain of snow which marks the first break on the icy head of Ararat. At the distance of a werst, we saw the cross which we had reared on the 19th of September, but it appeared to me so extremely small, probably on account of its black colour, that I almost doubted whether I should be able to find it again with an ordinary telescope from the plain of the axes. In the direction towards the summit, a shorter but at the same time a steeper declivity than the one we had passed lay before us; and between this and the extreme summit there appeared to be only one small hill. After a short repose we passed the first precipice, which was the steepest of all, by hewing out steps in the rock, and after this the next elevation. But here, instead of seeing the ultimate goal of all our difficulties, immediately before us appeared a series of hills, which even concealed the summit from our sight. This rather abated our courage, which had never yielded for a moment so long as we had all our difficulties in view, and our strength, exhausted by the labour of hewing the rock, seemed scarcely commensurate with the attainment of the now invisible object of our wishes. But a review of what had been already accomplished, and of that which might still remain to be done, the proximity of the series of projecting elevations, and a glance at my brave companions, banished my fears, and we boldly advanced. We crossed two more hills, and the cold air of the summit blew towards us. I stepped from behind one of the glaciers, and the extreme cone of Ararat lay distinctly before my enraptured eyes. But one more effort was necessary. Only one other icy plain was to be ascended, and at a quarter past three on the 27th of September, O. S., 1829, we stood on the summit of Mount Ararat! [Having thus happily accomplished his fatiguing and perilous enterprise, says the Review, our author's first wish and enjoyment was repose; he spread his cloak on the ground, and sitting down, contemplated the boundless but desolate prospect around him. He was on a slight convex, almost circular, platform, about 200 Paris feet in diameter, which at the extremity declines pretty steeply on all sides, particularly towards the S. E. and N. E.; it was the silver crest of Ararat, composed of eternal ice, unbroken by a rock or stone. Towards the east, the summit declined more gently than in any other direction, and was connected by a hollow, likewise covered with perpetual ice, with another rather lower summit, which by Mr. Federow's trigonometrical measurement was found to be 187 toises distant from the principal summit. On account of the immense distances nothing could be seen distinctly. The whole valley of the Araxes was covered with a gray mist, through which Erivan and Sardarabad appeared as small dark spots; to the south were seen more distinctly the hills behind which lies Bayazeed; to the N. W. the ragged top of Alaghes, covered with vast masses of snow, probably an inaccessible summit; near to Ararat, especially to the S. E. and at a great distance towards the west, are numerous small conical hills, which look like extinct volcanoes; to the E. S. E. was little Ararat, whose head did not appear like a cone, as it does from the plain, but like the top of a square truncated pyramid, with larger and smaller rocky elevations on the edges and in the middle; but what very much surprised Professor Parrot was to see a large portion of Lake Goktschai, which appeared in the N. E. like a beautiful shining dark blue patch, behind the lofty chain of mountains which encloses it on the south, and which is so high that he never could have believed that he should have been able from the top of Ararat to see over its summit into the lake behind it. Mr. Parrot, having allowed himself time to enjoy this prospect, proceeded to observe his barometer, which he placed precisely in the middle of the summit. The mercury was no higher than 15 inches 3-4 of a line Paris measure, the tempera

ture being 3 7-10ths below the freezing point of the centrigrade thermometer. By comparing this observation with that which Mr. Federow made at the same time at the convent of St. James, the elevation of the summit appears to be 10,272 Paris feet above the convent, and, adding to that the height of the latter, the top of Ararat is 16,254 Paris feet, nearly five wersts, above the level of the sea. While the professor was engaged in his observations, the deacon planted the cross, not precisely on the summit, where it could not have been seen from the plain, as it was only five feet high, but on the N. E. edge, about thirty feet lower than the centre of the summit. The professor and his five companions, viz. the deacon, two Russian soldiers, and two Armenian peasants, having remained three quarters of an hour on the summit, commenced their descent, which was very fatiguing; but they hastened, as the sun was going down, and before they reached the place where the great cross was erected, it had already sunk below the horizon.]

It was a glorious sight to behold the dark shadows which the mountains in the west cast upon the plain, and then the profound darkness which covered all the valleys, and gradually rose higher and higher on the sides of Ararat, whose icy summit was still illuminated by the beams of the setting sun. But the shadows soon passed over that also, and would have covered our path with a gloom that would have rendered our descent dangerous, had not the sacred lamp of night, opportunely rising above the eastern horizon, cheered us with its welcome beams.

[Having passed the night on the same spot as on their ascent, where they found their companions, they arrived the next day at noon, at the Convent of St. James, and on the following day, Sunday, the 28th of September, O. S., they offered their grateful thanksgiving to Heaven for the success of their arduous enterprise, perhaps not far from the spot where "Noah built an altar to the Lord."]

Ver. 11. And the dove came in to him in the evening, and, lo, in her mouth was an olive leaf plucked off. So Noah knew that the waters were abated from off the earth.

The olive may be justly considered as one of the most valuable gifts which the beneficent Creator has bestowed on the human family. The oil which it yields, forms an important article of food; it imparts a greater degree of pliancy to the limbs, and agility to the whole body; it assuages the agonizing pain, and promotes, by its sanative influence, the cure of wounds; it alleviates the internal sufferings produced by disease; it illumines, at once, the cottage and the palace; it cheers, by the splendour of its combustion, the festive meeting; it serves to expel the deadly poison of venomous reptiles; it was used in consecrating a thing to the service of God; and it mingled, perhaps, from the first of time, by the command of Heaven, with many of the bloodless oblations which the worshipper presented at his altar. In these various and important uses, we may, perhaps, discover the true reason that the dove of Noah was directed, by God himself, to select the olive leaf from the countless variety which floated on the subsiding waters of the deluge, or bestrewed the slimy tops and declivities of Ararat, as the chosen symbol of returning peace and favour. From the creation of the world, the fatness of this tree signally displayed the divine goodness and benignity; and since the fall of man, it symbolizes the grace and kindness of our heavenly Father, and the precious influences of the Holy Ghost, in healing the spiritual diseases of our degenerate race, and in counteracting the deadly poison of moral corruption. Hence, the people of Israel were commanded to construct their booths, at the feast of tabernacles, partly with branches of olive; and all the nations of the civilized world were secretly directed, by the overruling providence of Heaven, to bear them in their hands as emblems of peace and amity. The olive is mentioned as the sign of peace, by both Livy and Virgil, in several parts of their works, but one instance from the latter shall suffice.

"Tum pater Eneas puppi sic fatur ab alta
Paciferæque manu ramum pretendit olive.".
En. b. viii. 1. 116.

The celebrated navigator, Captain Cook, found that green branches, carried in the hands, or stuck in the