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This, with a similar taste in the arts and literature, soon put us on a friendly and intimate footing. I have met many men of letters, artists and statesmen, but never one who impressed me so much with the profundity of his learning and thought as did Verestshagin, and I am not easily impressed. One night we were sitting on the Casino veranda overlooking the wonderful Harbor of Port Arthur.
I am by no means sentimental or easily moved, nor am I overly superstitious; but I have encountered one or two things in the course of my life which cannot be explained by rule and line. Throwing off my sudden strange mood, I told Verestshagin that his morbid fancies were due to his still feverish condition, and the depressing effect of over-doses of sulphate of quinine.
His florid bearded face, thick-set figure and his deep guttural growls reminded me of a Boer Dopper. Among all the Russians I met at Port Arthur, the most interesting figure was to me the great battle painter Verestshagin. I am proud to be able to say that he called me "friend." I happened to be of some assistance to him in alleviating an attack of malaria.
We were smoking our pipes, having just finished a long chat about the history of these regions the old Manchu and Tartar dynasties, how far they had influenced and still influence the history of the world, the Volker-Wanderung of the Huns, the Goths, and Vandals a subject on which Verestshagin disclosed a deep store of knowledge.
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