There are two monuments of interest in Petropaulovski; one in honour of Bering, the second to the memory of La Perouse. The former is a plain cast-iron column, railed in, while the latter is a most nondescript construction of sheet iron, and is of octagonal form. Neither of these navigators is buried in the town. Poor Bering’s remains lie on the island where he miserably perished, and which now bears his name; while of the fate of La Perouse, and his unfortunate companions, little is known. In 1855, Petropaulovski was visited by the allied fleets, during the period of our war with Russia. They found an empty town, for the Russian Government had given up all idea of defending it. The combined fleet captured one miserable whaler, razed the batteries, and destroyed some of the government buildings. There were good and sufficient reasons why they should have done nothing. The poor little town of Saints Peter and Paul was beneath notice, as victory there could never be glorious. But a stronger reason existed in the fact, recorded in a dozen voyages, that from the days of Cook and Clerke to our own, it had always been famous for the unlimited hospitality and assistance shown to explorers and voyagers, without regard to nationality. All is _not_ fair in war. Possibly, however, reason might be found for the havoc done, in the events of the previous year. In August, 1854, the inhabitants of Petropaulovski had covered themselves with glory, much to their own surprise. On the 28th of the month, six English and French vessels—the _President_, _Virago_, _Pique_, _La Fort_, _l’Eurydice_, and _l’Obligado_—entered Avatcha Bay. Admiral Price reconnoitred the harbour and town, and placed the _Virago_ in position at 2,000 yards. The Russians had two vessels, the _Aurora_ and _Dwina_, to defend the harbour, and a strong chain was placed across its narrow entrance. The town was defended by seven batteries and earthworks, mounting fifty guns. It was not difficult to silence the batteries, and they were accordingly silenced. The townspeople, with their limited knowledge of the English—those English they had always so hospitably received, and who were now doing their best to kill them—thought their hour was come, and that, if not immediately executed, they would have to languish exiles in a foreign land, far from their beautiful Kamchatka. The town was, and is, defended almost as much by nature as by art. High hills shut it in so completely, and the harbour entrance can be so easily defended, that there is really only one vulnerable point, in its rear, where a small valley opens out into a plot of land bordering the bay. Here it was thought desirable to land a body of men.