there, and fawning upon no one; the
conscientious judge, the charming writer and
accomplished speaker, the gentle-hearted,
guileless, affectionate man, has entered on a
brighter world. Very, very many have lost a
friend; nothing in Creation has lost an
enemy.

The hand that lays this poor flower on his
grave, was a mere boy's when he first clasped
it—newly come from the work in which he
himself began life—little used to the plough
it has followed since—obscure enough, with
much to correct and learn. Each of its
successive tasks through many intervening years
has been cheered by his warmest interest,
and the friendship then begun has ripened to
maturity in the passage of time; but there
was no more self-assertion or condescension
in his winning goodness at first, than at last.
The success of other men made as little
change in him as his own.

A RUSSIAN CAULDRON IN FULL
BOIL.

HE is a happy man who has a mission; and
we envy Mr. Edward Tracy Turnerelli, whose
mission it is to be M.C. or Master of the
Ceremonies to the town of Kazan. Mr.
Turnerelli as a schoolboy was condemned to
the black hole for knowing scarcely anything
of that place; a severe teacher uttering the
prophecy which has been since fulfilled, "You
shall learn yet to know Kazan!" He knows
Kazan now.

He has lived there for years. He has
been the first to sketch all its antiquities
and publish them in a grand lithographic
album at St. Petersburg. He is the
first to write its history, and to make this
strange town known also to his readers and
his countrymen, "surfeited," as he sublimely
says, "with an endless succession of works
relative to countries, rivers, mountains, &c.,
which all the world has visited, and which
are as familiar to the English tourist as are,
to the London peregrinator, the hallowed
glades of Hyde Park, the meandering banks
of the Serpentine, the imposing upland which
bears the name of Primrose Hill, and other
remarkable spots of our great metropolis."
Kazan was Mr. Turnerelli's mission.
Presently Ins eloquence comes down in a cataract.
"Reflecting likewise on the singular
combination of uncontrollable circumstances
which, as the storm tears the sea-weed from
its native rock, and casts it on some remote
and unknown shore, had removed the author
from the land of his birth, and borne him
to the plains he is describing,—he confesses,
he repeats, that the idea, foolish as it may
seem, suddenly entered his mind, and soon
took possession of his reason, that fate had
led him to these distant regions for the
sole and express purpose of giving him an
opportunity of rendering himself useful by
undertaking a task too long neglected, and
which he felt it his duty to accomplish as well
as he was able."

Kazan was called his third capital by the
present Czar, the town next in importance
after Moscow. It is on the Asiatic borders,
near the Volga; and, through the hands of
its rich merchants, comes from it all the
very profitable Asiatic trade.

Its history we shall condense into a
paragraph. Kazan means Cauldron. Once upon
a time, six hundred years ago, Khan Baton
of the Golden Horde had spent the forenoon
hunting, and sat down with his men by a
riverside to boil his pot for dinner. The pot
and its contents fell into the stream; the
hunters remained hungry. Remembering that
circumstance, they called the river that had
not only swallowed all their meat but also
gulped the kettle down, the River of the
Cauldron. Upon the spot remarkable for
this event Baton afterwards founded a town,
and so we get Kazan on the river Kazanka.
The Kazanka flows into the Volga five
miles distant from Kazan. In the old time,
Kazan became a Tartar capital. So it
remained until Czar Ivan the Terrible went
out to expel the Mahometans, and he
captured the place after a terrific siege. That
happened three hundred years ago. This
siege, we are told, resembled the siege of
Constantinople which is to take place in a few
months to the discomfiture of infidels;
for there has existed during the last four
hundred years a Russian prophecy, that in
the year eighteen hundred and fifty-four
Constantinople would become a Russian
town. Since Ivan captured it, Kazan at
any rate has been a Russian town, but it
has retained always a trace of its past
condition in the shape of a large Tartar
suburb.

The contents of The Cauldron are composed
of every variety of ingredient. It has a
fine University, which was established at
the beginning of the present century. It
has its circles of society, which comprehend
four sets of people. To put the
learned first, there are the professors of the
University, most of them Germans, who
associate pretty exclusively with one another,
and dine together on the last Saturday of
every month at the German Club. At this
club the table conversation may be heard
going on at one and the same time in eight
languages,—Latin, Russian, German, French,
Italian, Persian, Turkish, and Tartar,—for
among the professors are great Oriental
men, and Kazan is the best school in Europe
for the Oriental languages.

We have in Kazan the three kinds of men
duly and strongly distinguished—nobles,
merchants, nobodies. The full force of an account
of their respective modes of life cannot be
felt until we have some previous knowledge
of the place in which they live. We must
show, before we talk of balls and dances and