We had covered about 2 1/2 miles, when before us lay the junction of the rivers, of the river of Akhaltsykh with the Kur or Ardahan river, for it is known under both names. From their nearer margins to our road extended a stretch of alluvial ground, filling the angle between the two streams. Their further banks are high, and are bordered by hummock hills, a feature most pronounced on the bank of the Kur. The united waters break through the soft hummocks and become engulfed in the rocky barrier of the border ranges--a bold and lofty wall of mountain, partially covered with wood. In the hollow is situated a village with trees and pleasant verdure, an oasis in the sterile landscape around. We were told that its name was Tsinis and that it was inhabited by Mussulmans; beyond it, through the glasses, we discerned the road to Tiflis entering the jaws of the gorge. Skirting the barren convexities which closed the view on our right hand, and upon slightly higher ground, we gained the left bank of the Kur and proceeded along it for a short space up stream. Leaving on our right a small Armenian village, we then descended to the river-bed; strips of vegetables had been planted along the water, which is here crossed by a strong wooden bridge. The stream was flowing towards us, newly escaped from the narrows, where it is confined by rocky cliffs of forbidding aspect, harbouring a scanty growth of stunted bush. A few poplars lined its immediate margin, and a slender fringe of green. It had a width of some 30 yards at the mouth of the passage, a rapid current, charged with soil and tawny, which divides into several channels and forms a broad and pebbly bed as it issues upon the open plain. After crossing the bridge to the right bank, we passed a Mussulman village where the women were sifting the season's grain. Our course for the rest of the day lay on this bank of the river; the road leaves the plain and dives into the narrows, where walls of rock enclose the swirling stream. The Kur is following the base of the border ranges, piercing the spurs where they meet the outskirts of the Dochus Punar. In places it has a width of some 50 yards or more, and the eye cannot penetrate the dull depths; but more often it is a narrow and shallow torrent, wreathing and foaming over the rocks. On the left bank, as we passed a break in the mountains, it is joined by the clearer waters of a little tributary, the Uravel, which wound below us at Safar.