The doctor pardoned his servant's peculations more easily than his blunders--one of which, that occurred upon the road to Erivan, was certainly provoking enough to so eager a naturalist. On the lonely banks of a canal, apparently the work of nature rather than of man, (although local traditions maintain the contrary,) one of the outlets of the alpine lake of Chenk-sha, or Blue Water, Dr Wagner encountered some Armenian anglers, who had secured a rich store of extremely curious fish. He purchased a dozen specimens, and on arriving at the next posting station, he bade his Cossack put them in a leathern bottle of spirits of wine, whilst he himself, armed with the geological hammer, availed himself of the short halt to explore some adjacent rocks. On his return, he found Ivan hard at work executing his orders, in obedience to which this Fair-service from the Don had duly immersed the icthyological curiosities in alcohol, but had previously _cut them in pieces_, "in order that on arriving at Erivan, they might taste more strongly of the pickle." Eshmiadzini is about fifteen miles from Erivan, across the plain of the Araxes, a monotonous stony flat, offering little worthy of note. Dr Wagner had expected, in the church and residence of the chief of the Armenian Christians, a stately and imposing edifice, something after the fashion of Strassburg cathedral; and he wondered greatly not to behold its turrets or spire rising in the distance long before he came within sound of its bells. In this, as in various other instances during his travels, by indulging his imagination, he stored up for himself a disappointment. A clumsy stunted dome, a mud-walled convent, ugly environs, a miserable village, black pigs wallowing in a pool of mud--such was the scene that met his disgusted vision. The people were worthy of the place, but from them he had not expected much. He had seen enough of the Armenian priesthood at Tefflis, in Constantinople, and elsewhere, to appreciate them at their just value. Some dirty, stupid-looking monks lounged about the convent entrance, gossiping and vermin-hunting. The travellers were conducted into a large room, where the archbishops held their conclaves. Five of these dignitaries were seated at a long table, dressed in blue robes with loose sleeves, and with cowls over their heads. The one in a red velvet arm-chair, at the head of the table, represented the absent patriarch. He was a handsome man, with an imposing beard, of which he was very vain. Laying his hand upon his heart, with an assumption of great dignity, he addressed a few words of flattering welcome to Dr Wagner, of whose coming he had been forewarned by the Russian general Neidhardt. "We have long expected you," he said. "The whole of our clergy rejoice to welcome within their walls a man of your merit and reputation." The compliment, although laconic, was not ill turned, but it was thoroughly insincere. An eruption of Ararat, or a troop of Kurdish