outlined on the moonlit waters of the bay. We were smoking our pipes,
having just finished a long chat about the history of these
regions--the old Manchu and Tartar dynasties, how far they had
influenced and still influence the history of the world, the
_Volker-Wanderung_--of the Huns, the Goths, and Vandals--a subject on
which Verestshagin disclosed a deep store of knowledge.

As the night was far advanced, I suggested that I had probably
trespassed long enough on his kindness and hospitality. He turned
around in his chair and placing his hand on my shoulder said in his
soft deep voice:

"No, Doctor Cannitz, you are doing me a service instead. I am
restless to-night. I have a curious presentiment that before long
these lovely hills will hear the roar of guns in earnest." Dreamily
speaking as if to himself he continued, "And Russia will lose . . .
but I shall not see it." Abruptly he looked up, sat erect in his
chair and shook himself as if throwing off something that oppressed
him.

"Do you believe in premonition. Doctor? I know I shall find my death
here soon."

An indescribable shuddery sensation seemed to pass over me. I am by
no means sentimental or easily moved, nor am I overly superstitious;
but I have encountered one or two things in the course of my life
which cannot be explained by rule and line. Throwing off my sudden
strange mood, I told Verestshagin that his morbid fancies were due to
his still feverish condition, and the depressing effect of over-doses
of sulphate of quinine. He rose and smiled, and said: