and the commerce that he was engaged in; now the trade is
contraband, and the slave ship has to pick its way cautiously about
the island of Crimea, and keep a sharp lookout to avoid the Russian
war steamers that skirt the entire coast, and keep up a
never-ceasing blockade from the Georgian shore to the ancient port
of Anapa.

This latter place was, for centuries, one of vital importance to the
Circassians, being their general depot or rendezvous for the trade
between themselves and the ports that lay at the other extreme of
the Black Sea. It was the point where they were always sure to find
a ready market for their females, receiving as payment in exchange
from the Turks, fire-arms, ammunition and gold. But at last the
Russians, assuming a virtue that did not actuate them, stormed and
took the fort, ostensibly to put a stop to this trade, as opposed to
the principles it involved, but in reality to stop the supplies that
enabled the brave mountaineers to oppose them so successfully.

In the country lying immediately back of Anapa, there is a
succession of hills and vales of surpassing loveliness, presenting
the extremes of wild and rugged mountain scenery, joining fertile
plains and beautiful valleys, where, among fragrant and luxuriant
groves, many a fair creature has grown up to be brought to the slave
market and sold for a price. Vales where brave and stalwart youths
have been nurtured and taught the dexterous use of arms, being ever
educated to look upon the Russians as their natural enemies, and
also to believe that any revenge exercised upon their Moscovite
neighbors was not only commendable, but holy and just.

In a valley opening towards the north, a short league above the port