After describing the sort of hovel in which they were
to take up their quarters for the night, Mr. Hobhouse thus
continues:--"Vasilly was despatched into the village to procure eggs
and fowls, that would be ready, as we thought, by the arrival of the
second party. But an hour passed away and no one appeared. It was
seven o'clock, and the storm had increased to a fury I had never
before, and, indeed, have never since, seen equalled. The roof of our
hovel shook under the clattering torrents and gusts of wind. The
thunder roared, as it seemed, without any intermission; for the echoes
of one peal had not ceased to roll in the mountains, before another
tremendous crash burst over our heads; whilst the plains and the
distant hills (visible through the cracks of the cabin) appeared in a
perpetual blaze. The tempest was altogether terrific, and worthy of
the Grecian Jove; and the peasants, no less religious than their
ancestors, confessed their alarm. The women wept, and the men, calling
on the name of God, crossed themselves at every repeated peal.
"We were very uneasy that the party did not arrive; but the secretary
assured me that the guides knew every part of the country, as did also
his own servant, who was with them, and that they had certainly taken
shelter in a village at an hour's distance. Not being satisfied with
the conjecture, I ordered fires to be lighted on the hill above the
village, and some muskets to be discharged: this was at eleven
o'clock, and the storm had not abated.
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