women, because they are beautiful, and shut them up in their houses.
Perhaps you will be surprised to hear that the young Circassians think it
a fine thing to go to Turkey--to live in fine palaces and gardens,
instead of remaining in their own simple cottages. But I think that when
they find themselves confined between high walls, they must sigh to think
of their flocks and their farms at home, and more than all, of the dear
relations they have left behind.

Circassia is a pleasant country, situated near the noble mountains of
Caucasus. The snow on the mountains cools the air, and makes Circassia as
pleasant to live in as our own England. Indeed, if you were suddenly to
be transported into Circassia, you would be ready to exclaim, "Is not
this England? Here are apple-trees, and pear-trees, and plum-trees, like
those in my father's garden: those sounds are like the notes of the
blackbird and thrush, which sing among the hawthorns in English woods."

But look again, you will see vines interlacing their fruitful branches
among the spreading oaks. You do not see such vines in England. But hark!
what do I hear? It is a sound never heard in England. It is the yell of
jackals.

MANNERS OF THE PEOPLE.--There is no country in the world where the people
are as kind to strangers as in Circassia. Every family, however poor, has
a guest-house. There is the family-house, with its orchard, and stables,
and at a little distance, another house for strangers. This is no more
than a large room, with a stable at one end. The walls are made of
wicker-work, plastered with clay. There is no ceiling but the rafters,
and no floor but the bare earth. Yet there is a wide chimney, where a
blazing fire is kept up with a pile of logs. And there is a sofa or
divan, covered with striped silk, and many neat mats to serve as beds for