AN ARTIST AS AUTHOR.

Western Star, Issue 1116, 15 January 1887, Page 2 (Supplement)

AN ARTIST AS AUTHOR.

The eminent Russian artist, M. Vereschagin, has lately come before the public in the new capacity of literateur. He has contributed in Drench to the ftouvelle Hevue and in German to the Kolnische Zeitung , his subjects in the latter case being reminiscences from journeys and battlefields. In the course of a string of ancedotes he tells of the following incidents which occurred, while the artist was travelling in Central Asia: —

After a tour of Some forty miles along the Chinese frontier I came to a detachment of Cossacks. The district was overrun with hares, and after some sport I sat down for a night’s rest under the open sky. Tired as I was, I was prevented from going to sleep by a terrific barking of the dogs. “ Can’t you get these brutes to be quiet ? ” I called out to the Cossack on watch. “ That is impossible,” he answered; “ no human being can prevent them from barking, because they are after the beast.” “ What kind of a beast P ” “A tiger.” “ But are there tigers in this district?” Certainly, and a great number of them; they come from the mountains every night, and they do not come singly,” “ And do they come close to this place ? ” f ‘ Yes, right up to the barracks i They come out at the place where you are lying, and begin to sniff the air for food.” “ In that case it was rather daring for me to lie down here and have, perhaps, my nose bitten off.” “ Oh, bless you, no ; why should it be daring 1 Do not disturb yourself in the least. If they come closer the dogs will see them, and let us know that the beasts are here.” And, trusting to the dogs, I fell asleep, and did not awake until the next morning. An incident of a different kind M. Tereschagin relates thus: — When Samarkand had been conquered for the second time, our artillery officers were bent upon destroying the temple Shaderi, which is covered with china, because shots had been fired from it upon our hospitals, At the last

moment I was told that the 'soldiers were about to tear down the valuable frieze work, and it was only after the greatest efforts that I could' persuade our officers to abstain from their intention. In this same temple an old scholarly mullah was living, and while the bullets were raining down upon it, I wondered more than once whether it was he who had prepared this welcome for us. My suspicion was grounded on the fact that once before I had seen him at the bazaar, where he incited the populace to insurrection, and bade them annihilate the Russians, who belonged not to the faithful. He became extremely confused on that occasion when I came up an'l s'm->k hands with him, W >en Heueral Kaufmann’s regiment relieved us, and besiegers had entered into]the fortress which we with 500 men had hardly been able to hold, I went to bed for the first time after a week of intense excitement. I had just turned in when my friend, Colonel Nasaroff, by whose side I had fought during the last week, rushed in to me, shouting, “Yassili Yasulivitch, I havea fresh battalion; come along, we will burn down the bazaar.” v I cannot come I am too tired.” “ Very well, then, I must go alone, and it will be said that Colonel Nasaroff has burned down Samarkand.” He ran away, and soon the town was enveloped in a cloud of smoke. I remembered my friend the mullah —was he dead, or had he fled ? Afterwards Nasaroff told me what had become of him. “We went right into the cursed temple“ Well,” I asked almost afraid of the answer, “ and how did you find it? Was anybody in it 1" “Only a few ; the rascals had all run away.” I breathed more freely- “ Only one mullah we caught—a regularly furious old fellow. He ran up the ladder like a cat.” “Very well, and what was the end ? ” “Of course we knocked him down with the bayonet. Ugh.”