We hove-to opposite the mouth of the little river, and sent a boat on shore to see if we could land, but a Cossack, who had been suspiciously watching the movements of the yacht all day (and a long hot ride he must have had), rode rapidly down to the beach, and, pointing his lance in very warlike fashion at the men, clearly demonstrated that no landing must be attempted. The boatswain, who spoke Russ, tried to remonstrate, but an order had lately been sent from Odessa, that no person should be allowed to land on the coast without a permit, so, with our destination before us, we had to set sail and depart. CHAPTER VIII. SEVASTOPOL. The next morning, soon after six a.m., we were awakened by the roar of cannon, and running on deck to ascertain the cause, found that the yacht was dashing along under a fresh breeze, and rapidly approaching the entrance to Sevastopol. Wreaths of smoke were curling round Fort Constantine. We could hear the hissing of the shot as it fell into the sea, and such warlike sights and sounds almost made one fancy we had come in time for the siege; but drawing near, the ruins that lay around, the masts, and the bits of wreck sticking up in all parts of the harbour (making the navigation both difficult and dangerous), showed we had but arrived to see the effects of war. Even after the lapse of so many years, the scene of desolation was extraordinary. The forts are not even in ruins. So completely have they been destroyed, that only masses of broken stones show the sites where they once stood. On the heights are rows of handsome houses, or palace-like barracks, still roofless, the walls shattered, and grass growing thickly between the stones. The Russians seem to have had as yet no heart or inclination to attempt seriously the work of restoration. A few houses have been made habitable, some rebuilt, but whole quarters have been left as they were at the termination of the siege. In some streets, where apparently a perfect storm of shot and shell must have descended, the walls of the houses left are so shattered that it seems almost unsafe to walk about amongst them--they look as if a gust of wind must bring them down. The principal church of St. Nicholas has been restored, and houses have been built for the governor, admiral, and principal officials; but of the beautiful public buildings and magnificent palaces of which Sevastopol was once so proud nothing now is left but the scorched, battered, and defaced skeletons. Some of these poor remains still retain traces of their former grandeur. Here and there a bit of tarnished gilding, pieces of what was once rich sculpture, traces of painting, the remains of stone or marble staircases, still cling to the crumbling walls. Never again, in all probability, will this once beautiful city regain the prosperity and position she enjoyed before the fatal war that brought about her destruction.