The length of tliis strip is 30 miles. It is nearly a mile broad at Phoros, and thence it gradually expands, till at Aloupka, it attains a breadth of nearly three miles, and at Yalta it is five miles from the sea to the base of the cliff. The road winds for many miles along the foot of these stupenduous crags, but there is a lower road, reached by zig-zags, which leads to the villas situated in the lovely valleys by the coast. This strip of shelving land is of the most varied formation. It is tossed about into hill and dale, and is seamed with shady ravines and deep woody dells, which are watercourses in winter. As it is quite sheltered by the cliff from northerly winds, and is exposed to the full povrer of the sun, the climate here is beautifully mild until the heats of summer begin, and the land produces in great perfection an astonishing variety of vegetable productions.
The Crimea has a Flora of its own, but the lady is dressed so quaintly, uses such strange language, and is called so many hard, long names, that in my ignorance I am afraid to approach her, or to do anything more than to praise her general effect and appearance at a distance. But here is indeed a horrid reality to talk about. Some half-mile from Phoros, the road runs through a solid rock by means of a tunnel about thirty yards long. I happened to be riding in advance, and to be the first who saw that this tunnel was blocked up by a wall of stones about seven feet in height and eight feet in thickness. All passage for the c^t seemed hopeless.
We never could lift it up so high. There was no getting' round the rock, and so I smote my breast and returned to the party. But there were two or three among us not easily to be deterred from their purpose. An examination was made; a council of war was held; and it was decided that over the wall we must go, and that the obstacle intended to prevent the march of Cossack cavab-y and the carriage of mountain guns, was not to impede six British tourists. Under the directiou of our acting engineer to work we went. The party got on the wall and proceeded to dislodge the stones on both sides with regularity and precision, rolling them down so as to form a kind of solid arch out of the centre of the wall.
Shins were cut, toes were sma.shed, spurs were Lent, but the work went on, and at the end of three-quarters of an hour the way was declared to be practicable. Tlie inulcs were taken out of the cart, and walked by a footpath round the rock; the heavjarticles were unloaded, and then, with main strength, the cart, after a desperate struggle, was spoked up to the top of the mound of rocks and stones, and then, with immense difficulty, was backed down to the road on the other side, liaybc the old tunnel did not re-echo three tremendous cheers when the work was over, and the mules emerged with their triumphant chariot! But our troubles are not half over. The French were uneasy at Phoros — they have scarped the road, and what they have spared, two winters of neglect have very nearly demolished.
Before we moved six miles we executed, in addition to these labours, the following great public works, in order to get our cart over: — No. 1. Built a wall to bank up the road-side at a precipice; No. 2. Filled up a crevice with brush-wood and loose stones; No. 3. Made the road practicable with fascines; No. 4. Cut away hill-side, so as to widen the road by the side of a precipice where it had given way; No. 5. Unloading cart and spoking it over a bit, and loading it again. It is about twenty-two miles from the camp to the Phoros pass, and our halting place for the night is the ruined chateau of Isarkaia, which is about six miles from Phoros.
We reached this secluded spot about seven o'clock in the evening. The walls and roof alone are left. The windows are smashed in, woodwork and all, and the only thing untouched in the place is a mangle in the kitchen. We stable our horses in the parlours and library, for all I know to the contrary, unpack the cart, and carry in saddles and bedding to the room designed for dining and sleeping. There are no boarded rooms, but the clay floor is soft, a ibuntain and a stream of water run hard by. The horses are groomed and supplied with hay and corn, and we prepare for dinner. A horrid announcement is made — " TJie Major has ibrgot to bring either kettle, gridiron, or saucepan; the tea and the sugar have got mixed, but that is no consevjuence." What is to be done?