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Rh rode out daily to exchange a few shots with Pougatcheff's archers. The advantage in these encounters remained generally with the wretches who were tipsy, well fed, and well mounted. Our miserable cavalry could not withstand them. Our famished infantry would occasionally go out, but the deep snow impeded their movements, and rendered their evolutions against the scattered horsemen ineffectual. The artillery on the ramparts thundered in vain, and when on the field, it was unable to advance, owing to the extenuated condition of the horses. This was our mode of action. And this was what the Orenburg officials termed prudence and sound judgment.

Having upon one occasion succeeded in dispersing a goodly mass of the enemy, I rode up to a Cossack who had remained behind, and was about to cut him down with my Turkish sabre, when he suddenly took off his cap, and shouted,

"Good-day, Piotr Andrevitch; how do you do?"

I looked at him, and recognized our orderly. I felt unspeakably rejoiced to see him.

"Good-day, Maksymitch," said I; "how long is it since thou hast left Byĕlogorsk?"

"Not long, Piotr Andrevitch, I returned only yesterday. I have a letter for you."

"Where is it?" I exclaimed, agitated.

"I have it here," replied Maksymitch, putting his hand in his bosom. "I promised Paláshka that I should let you have it somehow."

He handed to me a folded paper, and instantly galloped