The next morning it was discovered, to the vexation of all on board, that we had overshot our mark. A headland had been mistaken, and the yacht was some miles beyond Soukoum-Kalé. We had to work our way back again therefore, and it was mid-day before the anchor was dropped in the roadstead opposite the little town. Navigation off this coast is very difficult. There are but few charts, and even these few are not correct. Indeed it is hinted that there is no desire that the difficulties should be diminished. The country around Soukoum is quite as beautiful as any we have yet seen; but the town itself, though its low, white houses scattered along the shore and up the sides of the wooded hills are picturesque enough, seems a small, insignificant place, little more than a Russian fort. A Russian transport and three small ships of war were anchored near us, the decks and yards thronged with people anxious to see such an unusual, such a wonderful sight as an English yacht. The Claymore has the honour of being the first vessel to fly the Royal Yacht Squadron flag at Soukoum-Kalé. On shore the same excitement prevailed. The beach was crowded with people, who watched our movements with the greatest interest and curiosity, evidently brought to a culminating point when they saw ladies and children on board. The English consul, Mr. D----, soon arrived, kindly anxious to give every assistance. By-and-by the governor and admiral, attended by their aides-de-camp, also came on board; and after a time we went on shore with them. The beach where we landed was crowded with Russians and Circassians, many of the latter the wildest-looking creatures imaginable. They were mostly however fine, tall men, with remarkably erect and graceful figures, intelligent faces, and large, dark, fiery eyes. Their dignified bearing was in marked contrast to the depressed appearance and careworn countenances of the majority of the Russians. In poverty and in rags a Circassian retains his independent, self-relying manner, and looks (what he generally is) a bold mountaineer, who, notwithstanding his nominal submission to a foreign power, preserves his liberty, and, with gun and sword, can defend his own against the world. This same gun and sword, it is asserted, are not unfrequently turned to other and less legitimate uses, for their owner does not scruple to avail himself of any favourable opportunity of enriching his purse by their aid.