Monseigneur's windows looked out upon a wretched village, which appeared doubly miserable in the cold light. At half-past nine we mounted our ponies, and set out for Ashtarak. Mugni lies to the south of the hill of Karniarch--a name which our native guide pronounced Garnara. The surrounding country maintains the stony and inhospitable character of the waste through which we had lately passed. A short ride brought us to the descent into the little township--an oasis of verdure, a pretty church, with a cluster of roofs and gables, tall poplars, terraces of flat house-tops. But when we had passed within the precincts, this pleasant impression faded; were the crumbling walls of the houses in course of demolition, or was this rude masonry of mud and stone succumbing to the storm of yesterday? We proceeded down a narrow street which is lined with lofty trees and channelled by a swirling stream. Here the owners of the ponies were lying in wait for us; a sure instinct had placed them upon our way. According to the published statistics Ashtarak possesses some 3000 inhabitants, all of Armenian race. By eleven o'clock we had procured horses and were again on the road to Erivan. The entire region is strewn with rocks and presents the same bleak appearance, except where, here and there, a stream descends the barren slopes and sustains a slender line of green. In such places you may discern the rare site of a village, a few poplars, the grouped architecture of a church. At length, after long winding between the stony eminences, we opened out a view over the great plain. The sky had not yet cleared, and mists obscured the forms of the mountains; but the whole lap of the plain was revealed. Patches of soft blue relieved the surface of the dim country--the vegetation of the rich campagna about the banks of the Araxes. We rode on, always descending, over these stony uplands, until they dipped to the floor of the level ground. Luxuriant gardens filled the gently-pursing hollow, intensely green after the heavy rain of the preceding day. Pools of water lay on the road; the water-courses were brimming over. The orchards were clothed with fruit of ideal perfection in form and colour; we admired the size and brilliant hues of the clustering peaches, side by side with the bending branches of the apple and the pear trees, with the deep shade of the walnut and the mulberry trees. Ripe grapes hung in abundance from the low vine-stocks.... Such are the outskirts of Erivan, a town embowered in foliage. We reached the central park at half-past one o'clock. CHAPTER XI TO ARARAT