As for ourselves, we began to grow proud of our courage in braving such unknown dangers, and felt rather like Christian in "Pilgrim's Progress," as he prepares to plunge into the flood, and penetrate the dark mist that veils the other side. But in truth the opening into the Black Sea is often a very "uncanny" looking place, for at every change of weather a dense white fog hangs over it. All the bad winds are said to come from the Black Sea, all the rain, all the squalls, so that at any rate, deserved or undeserved, it has got a very bad name, and we know that a bad name, whether given to a dog, a man, or a sea, loses nothing by time or telling. The sea was calm, and the wind was favourable; but our first day's sail on the Black Sea was marked, and our hearts were troubled by a domestic calamity. About ten days before we left the Bosphorus a bottle had been let down into the water to cool, and when it was drawn up again a curious little fish was found entangled in the string. It was about five inches long, and had the head of a horse, with the body and tail like those of the old fabulous dragon. We found it was called the Hippocampus, or Sea Horse; and though not uncommon on the coasts of Japan and China, it is rarely seen in these seas, and still more rarely taken alive. The Russian Ambassador, Prince L----, who happened to be on board when the capture was made, is a great naturalist, and by his advice we put our prize into a glass bowl, with a small supply of its favourite seaweed. For many days the little creature did very well, and we used to watch with much interest its active, graceful movements. One morning, to our great astonishment, we found our friend surrounded by an immense family, about fifty little ones having made their appearance during the night. The mother seemed none the worse for such a prodigious event; and her children, who were about a quarter of an inch long, and perfect sea-horses in miniature, darted about with as much activity and liveliness as their parent. We were so unfortunate as to possess an excellent steward,--Domenico by name, Neapolitan by birth,--who, with the most earnest endeavours to do right, and with the most anxious activity in so doing, always contrived to understand everything à travers, and who, therefore, by his misplaced zeal and energy, often drove us to the verge of distraction by his well-intentioned but unlucky efforts. We had, of course, given him strict orders never to touch our little pets.