XX.
IN THE DESERT.

After a short rest we continued our journey, but I observed that after we had been marching for about two hours, the caravan began to slacken pace. A couple of Turkomans had dismounted from their camels and seemed to be carefully investigating right and left the low mounds, a great number of which could be seen everywhere around us. A PIOUS BROTHER.I was informed that Eid Mehemmed, one of our fellow-travellers, was trying to discover the grave of a brother of his, who had fallen hereabouts, last year, in an attack made upon him, after having heroically defended himself. Eid Mehemmed had brought a coffin with him in order to take the remains to Khiva. It might have been two o'clock in the afternoon when the grave was found and the exhumation begun. After the customary prayers and the recital of stray verses from the Koran, ceremonies in which I too had to take part in the most devotional manner, the half-decayed dead body was wrapped in rags and placed in the coffin. When the funeral ceremonies were over Eid Mehemmed baked bread on that place and distributed it among us. We started again, going always north. We had to make up for lost time, and the order was given by the kervanbashi to march all night. The weather was fine and, cramped up in my basket, I gazed with intense delight at the starry firmament, the like of which, for transcendental beauty, can be seen nowhere but in the desert. But sleep soon asserted its rights. I had not been asleep an hour when I was roused by several people shouting at me: "Hadji, look at thy kiblenuma (compass), we seem to have lost our way." I immediately produced my flint and steel apparatus, and striking sparks with it lit the tinder, by the smouldering fire of which I perceived that we were going east instead of north. The kervanbashi was frightened, thinking we had come near the dangerous marshes, and determined not to move until daybreak. Fortunately we had left the right track only half an hour before when the sky was clouded. In spite of the delay we reached in time the station we were bound for, and turned our tired animals loose to feed upon thistles and similar pasture.

On the 15th of May our road lay through a wild country, intersected, in every direction, by ravines. The poor camels had a great deal to suffer. They are attached to each other in such a manner that one end of the rope is tied to the tail of the camel in front, and the other end is fastened at the nose, through a hole perforated for that purpose, of the camel following it. Now if the poor beast stops from any cause, but for a minute, those before him are tugging away at his nose, in such an unmerciful way, that I have often seen the rope broken. To relieve the poor animals we dismounted several times during our four hours' trudging through the deep sand.

There were three different roads by which the desert might be crossed, but we were as yet kept in ignorance as to which of these the kervanbashi would choose. Owing to the caravan's being liable to be pounced upon by marauders at any minute, it is quite necessary to keep the real route a secret. But at the present stage of our journey it was easy to foretell that we should take the middle road, for our water was giving out; and the tank of water of which we stood in great need lay along that route. This night we were favoured by good fortune on our march, the rope keeping the camels together having broken but twice. When such a thing happens a couple of men are sent after the animals to bring them back, the caravan continuing their march. One of the caravan, however, is selected to keep up a continual conversation with the men sent out, while they are receding, to prevent their missing their way in the dark night. The melancholy sound of this man's voice is their only guide in the pitchlike darkness, and woe to the poor fellows if a contrary wind hinders them from hearing it. On the 16th of May we perceived in a north-eastern direction the mountain-chain of Karendag, and reached it on the afternoon of the same day. We had been told in Etrek that we might look forward to meeting friendly Yomut-Turkomans at this place, but nevertheless there prevailed a general anxiety on that subject, the fear of the possibility of being attacked by some hostile bands being quite as great as the expectation of meeting the former. We dispatched a brave Turkoman to reconnoitre the neighbourhood. Before long we caught sight of solitary tents, and, our apprehensions being dispelled, we asked ourselves what tribe we were to meet. After all they were Yomuts, and we passed the whole day with them.

A LIGHT FOR THE COMPASS.

KARENDAG MOUNTAINS.I was agreeably surprised to find near the Karendag Mountains some old ruins; the fable attaches to them that they are the ruins of Kaaba, God having from His special love for the Turkomans placed the Kaaba here first, but that Goklen, a lame blue devil, pulled it down, whereupon God carried the Kaaba to Mecca. And this was the reason why the Turkomans lived in constant enmity with and war against the Goklens, who have descended from Goklen.

The Nomads sojourning in the environs came flocking to see the caravan and to engage in trade with some of its members. In the evening, we being ready to start, one of the buffalo cows presented the caravan with a healthy calf, to the kervanbashi's intense satisfaction. On the road it occurred to him that the calf was too feeble to follow us on foot, and that he must find a place for it on the back of one of the camels. Myself and Hadji Bilal being the only ones occupying a kedsheve he naturally thought of us, and asked that one of us should give up our place to the newborn animal. Hadji Bilal resigned his basket with the utmost readiness, alleging that he did so out of kind feelings for me, who could not with my lame foot find accommodation everywhere. But no sooner did my counterpoise occupy the hadji's place than I discovered the real cause of his great complaisance—the calf was exhaling a pestiferous smell. It was passable at nights, interfering but occasionally with my slumbers, but during the day, when the sun shone out hot, I could hardly bear my sweet-smelling neighbour. Fortunately for me this agony did not last long, the calf departing this life three days afterwards.

From the spot where we started on the 18th of May, it was calculated that the Great Balkan was distant two days' march and Khiva a march of twelve days. Our guides hoped we should find rain water on the flat lands. We had last filled our canteens from the miry water of the two miserable water-tanks of Karendag, and such as it was, it had become, through being shaken up on the camels' backs, a liquid mass of mud, loathsome both to the smell and taste. We had, nevertheless, to be very economical in the use of it, for there was no prospect of obtaining any water before passing the Great Balkan. Our marching from this time onwards became more regular. We usually made three stoppages daily, of one hour and a half, and two hours' duration. The first was before daybreak, when we would bake one day's ration of bread; the second at noon, to afford some rest to both animals and men; and the third before sunset, in order to eat our modest supper, consisting of a little bread and of a few drops of water carefully doled out. The soil of the country through which we passed was a hard-baked clay producing scantily and at intervals a few blades of sickly grass. The blazing sun marked the whole surface with a thousand burning cracks. It is frightfully wearisome for the traveller to see before him everlastingly the boundless plain from which every vestige of life is banished, so much so that even the reaching of a new station is quite a relief, as it affords some rest from the rocking motion of the camel.

THE KARENDAG HILLS.

LITTLE BALKAN MOUNTAINS.On the following day, about noon, the Little Balkan Mountains loomed up before us in the hazy distance. The Turkomans spoke to me in the most laudatory strain of the extent and size of this mountain chain as well as of its beauty and wealth in minerals. The kervanbashi, otherwise always wakeful, feeling oppressed by sleep as the evening set in, left the caravan under the care of the leader of the camels, who led us into such danger that we were all near losing our lives. There are at the foot of the Balkan many salt marshes, covered with a thick white surface, formed by deposits of salt, which it is difficult to distinguish from the solid ground. Into one of these the substitute of the kervanbashi had taken us, and we had already advanced so far that the animals, owing to the shakiness of the ground under their feet, refused to go on in spite of all urging. We quickly jumped off our animals, and my fright may be imagined when upon touching ground I had a rocking sensation as if seated on a swing, the ground apparently giving way under my feet. The panic became general. Finally the kervanbashi called out that every one should remain where he was until sunrise, when we should be able to extricate ourselves from our perilous position. For three mortal hours we dared not stir and had to remain motionless in our places, having besides to suffer from the pungent soda smell, making our heads dizzy. At length the gray streak in the east assumed the rosy tints of dawn for which our hearts had been longing. With considerable trouble and exertion the caravan succeeding in getting out of this miry pitfall and in retracing their steps to the solid track. Had we advanced but a little farther into the salt marshes, part of the caravan, if not the whole, would have been doomed to certain destruction.

On the 20th of May we reached the Little Balkan, which stretches from the south-east to the north-west. We marched on along its foot on that day and the whole day following. The kervanbashi declared that we had but just now reached the veritable desert. We soon came to the ancient bed of the Oxus, and crossing it we entered on the opposite side a high plateau. CHARM OF THE DESERT.By and by the Balkan mountain chain vanished in the blue distance, and the desert in all its awful grandeur spread before us. Man is overwhelmed here by the idea of the infinite. The impression produced by the absence of all sounds, by the very change in the colour and appearance of the sun, is indescribable. Up to this time I always thought that the charm of the desert existed chiefly in the heated imagination of enthusiastic travellers, but I lived to be undeceived in this my supposition.

We camped near Yeti Siri on the 22nd of May. This place owes its name to seven wells which stood there in ancient times, and most of which are now dry. In one or two of them some little water may be found even now, but it is undrinkable owing to its salty taste and nasty smell. The kervanbashi comforted us with the hope of finding rain-water towards evening, but at this moment I was not disposed to exchange the remaining little water (abundantly mixed as it was with mud) which was left in my canteen for the ill-smelling contents of the wells. The animals were watered, and several of the men eagerly competed with them in drinking from this water. After resting a little we resumed our march and, on our way, happened to observe, on a sand mound, raised above the smaller heaps of sand, two empty kedsheves. In the opinion of my fellow-travellers these wooden baskets had belonged to some persons who had died on this spot; and the Turkomans hold in veneration every object once possessed by man. Strange anomaly! to look upon selling men into slavery and carrying desolation into a country as commendable acts, and to couple with such views a tender feeling of piety for a wooden basket—because, forsooth, a man had once sat in it.

We went towards evening with the kervanbashi and a couple of Turkomans, on foot, to look for the hoped-for rain-water. We were all well armed, and went in search of water in different directions. I followed the kervanbashi—with whom I had been on the best terms since the last collision with him. Suddenly he caught sight of footprints in the sand and, lighting our tinder, we followed them up by its feeble light, to the mouth of a cavern. We entered after a slight hesitation, and beheld there, to our utmost horror, a man in perfectly savage condition, with long, unkempt hair and beard, and enormous finger nails, wrapped in chamois skins. At our sight he, too, started, and seizing his lance made a rush at us. I retreated as quickly as I could, but my companion remained perfectly calm, and dropping the arm he had raised and saying in a low voice, "Aman bol!" (Peace be with thee!), he left the dreadful place. Not daring to ask too many questions, I learned from the kervanbashi, on returning, that the man we saw was "Kanli dir" (a man stained with blood). I was afterwards told that this unhappy being had fled from righteous revenge for bloodshed, and had been wandering for years, summer and winter, in the wilderness.

Our companions, like ourselves, returned with empty hands from their search for water, of which not the slightest indication could be found. It was an appalling thought that the few drops of muddy dregs I still possessed would be used up to-day. That evening I ate a few pieces of bread soaked in boiling water, for I had heard that the water lost its bitter taste by boiling. I determined patiently to bear everything, for in comparison to many of my companions I had every reason to be satisfied with my condition, inasmuch as I was in good health and they were suffering a great deal from the consequences of their having drunk from the brackish water. Some of the Turkomans were suspected of having secreted a quantity of drinkable water. But to rely upon being supplied, in the desert, with water belonging to another person, would be the height of madness; and indeed any one wishing to borrow or to beg water in the desert is looked upon as demented. I had lost my appetite and could not swallow even a few bits of bread. I dropped on the ground, exhausted and weak, and pitied my hard fate, when all at once I saw every one rising and flocking around the kervanbashi, and some persons beckoning to me to join them with my canteen. THIRST!The word "water" was enough to infuse new life into me; I jumped up from the ground I had been lying on, and on reaching the crowd I saw the kervanbashi dealing out about two glasses of clear sweet water to every member of the caravan. This brave Turkoman afterwards told us that for years he had been in the habit of storing away in secret places large quantities of water, to distribute it in times of great need, when every one is benefited by it. This is a great sevab (pious act), for a Turkoman proverb says: "One drop of water given to the thirsting in the desert will wash away the sins of a hundred years."

It is just as hard to determine the greatness of such a good action as it is to describe the enjoyment afforded by one swallow of sweet water. My craving for food was gone, I did not feel any more hunger, and thought I could bear being without water for three days. As far as drinking was concerned I was all right again, but it had all gone wrong with my bread. From want of appetite and in a fit of indolence I thought that instead of using wood for fuel, which it took some time to get as it was at some distance, I would use camel's dung—the regular fuel of the desert—but of this too I had gathered rather less than was needed. I placed the dough into the hot ashes, but there was not heat enough to bake it into bread, even if it had been left there for a week. I quickly ran off to gather some wood, but it was quite dark when I returned. I immediately set to kindling a little fire, but no sooner was it perceived by the kervanbashi, than he called out to ask "If I wished to betray by the smoke our caravans to the enemy?" I had to put out the fire at once, and take with me the unleavened bread half done.

HOT WEATHER.On the 23rd of May the rays of the sun beat down upon our heads with a scorching heat. The sand to the depth of a foot became so hot, that even the most hardened Asiatic who had never worn either shoe or boot on his feet, was compelled to fasten around them a piece of leather, sandal fashion. It was only ten years later, when a Russian army, led by Colonel Markusoff had crossed this part of the desert, that I learnt that the heat in the month of May reached the height of fifty-four degrees Réaumur (about 152 degrees Fahrenheit) in the sun! No wonder that the effect of the refreshing beverage of yesterday was soon gone, and that I began to be tantalized anew by thirst. At noon we were informed by the kervanbashi that we were not far from Kahriman Ata, a place of resort for pilgrimages. In duty bound we had to dismount and walk for a quarter of an hour until we reached the saint's grave, where we performed our devotions. My distress may be easily imagined at being compelled, worn out with the heat and half dead with thirst, to join the band of pilgrims. The tombs rose on an eminence; they crowded around it and yelled out with dry throats, telkins and citations from the Koran. Oh cruel saint, I thought within myself, couldst thou not have managed to get thyself buried in some other place, in order to save me the tortures of this pilgrimage! Choking and out of breath I sank down on the grave, which was about thirty feet long, and covered with rams' horns, the ram's horn being looked upon in Central Asia as a symbol of supremacy. The kervanbashi told us that the saint resting in his grave had been a giant, as tall as the grave was long, and that ever so long ago he had defended the wells hereabouts against evil spirits who had threatened to block them up with stones. The innumerable smaller mounds, surrounding the saint's grave, marked the places where poor travellers, who had lost their lives in different places of the desert either by the hands of robbers or by elemental visitations, were sleeping their eternal sleep. Hearing of the wells placed under the patronage of the saint, my heart was gladdened with a new hope, for I thought we should find drinkable water in the neighbourhood. I hastened to be amongst the first to arrive at the designated spot. I caught sight of a brownish puddle-like spring, and helped myself to its water by taking some into the hollow of my hand. It was as cold as ice, but when I brought it near my lips I had to leave it untasted, it was so brackish, bitter, and ill-smelling. My depression became extreme; for the first time I began to be seriously alarmed about my future.

A WELL IN THE DESERT.

Luckily for us a heavy rain storm came up during the night, the rain descending in large drops, and towards morning we came to the extremest edge of the sand. It took us three days to pass through it. We were sure of finding on to-day's road in the loamy ground an abundance of rain-water. The kervanbashi, judging by the numerous footprints of gazelles and wild asses, anticipated with certainty the accomplishment of our hope, but, volunteering no opinion of his own, only pressed forward, and very soon discovered, with his lynx eyes, at a great distance, a pool of rain-water. Su! Su! (water! water!) was on everybody's lips when the kervanbashi had communicated his discovery. We arrived there towards noon, and met on our way, besides the large pool we had seen at a distance, numerous pits filled with the sweetest rain-water. I was the first to run up to them, not to drink, but to fill my goatskin and other vessels with the precious fluid before it became muddy and murky with being stirred up. A quarter of an hour later everybody sat at his breakfast with a feeling of infinite delight.

From this station to Khiva we could without interruption fill our skins with sweet water, and our further progress became, comparatively speaking, contrasted with our former experiences, a pleasure trip. In the evening we reached a place where everything pointed to the mastery of a genuine spring, and camped amidst small lakes set in frames of verdant meadows. My thoughts involuntarily reverted to my sorrowful plight of yesterday, and it was with some difficulty I could persuade myself that the landscape before me was not an idle dream. To add to our satisfaction, the kervanbashi announced to the caravan that the danger from attacks was over, and that we should be permitted to build our fires after to-night. Our Turkoman fellow-travellers attributed the abundance of water to the fact that we, the hadjis, had been with them. We refilled our canteens and gaily proceeded on our journey.

XXI.
IN KHIVA.

On the 28th of May we came to Shor Gol (salt lake) in the plateau of Kaflankir. We took a rest of six hours in order to go through the ablutions commanded by Islam, which for some time we had been compelled to neglect. On this occasion my fellow-travellers opened their bundles, and every one of them found a spare shirt in it; I was the only one who had none. Hadji Bilal offered me the loan of one, but I declined it with thanks, well knowing that in my apparent poverty lay my greatest security. My face was covered by a layer of dust an inch thick. I had numerous occasions, in the desert, to wash it off, but I preferred keeping it on as a protection against the heat of the sun. Truth to tell, not only myself, but all the others were dreadfully disfigured by the teyemmun, or washing with the sand, the substitute for the ablutions with water, ordered by the Prophet to travellers in the desert. After my friends had been washing and dressing, I saw only what great lords they looked like in comparison to me. Several of them offered to lend me parts of their wardrobe, but I thanked them cordially, and in refusing their kind offers, I announced to them that I should wait until the Khan of Khiva supplied me with a garment.

We had been toiling on for four days in the high plateau of Kaflankir, when one morning my eyes were gladdened by the sight of numerous tents on our right and left. The occupants of these tents came flocking out to meet us, receiving us with the friendly greeting of "Aman gheldinghiz!" (Happily come!) Ilias having many friends amongst the people who were encamped here, he proceeded at once to procure from them hot bread and other Kurban (they were just then celebrating this, one of the most important holidays of Islam) gifts. He came back very soon from his errand, loaded down with meat, bread, and kimiss (a sharp and acid beverage brewed of mare's milk), all of which he distributed amongst us. Before long Nomads living at a greater distance were arriving to shake hands with us, and thus perform an act pleasing to God. For our share in this pious act we were remembered by gifts of great quantities of camel's, horse's and sheep's flesh.

AN ASININE ARMY.

As we were preparing our tea on the evening of the 30th of May, we were startled by the wild scampering of the camels which we had turned loose. Before we had time to investigate the cause of their fright, five horsemen appeared all of a sudden keeping straight towards us at the top of their horses' speed. We, too, immediately ran to our arms, and in a second we stood prepared to meet them. But the horsemen slackened their pace and the Turkomans soon discovered that they had been mistaken in supposing them to be hostile, for they only wanted to go with us as members of our caravan.

On the following morning we came to an Uzbeg village belonging to Akyap (the white canal). At this place we had entirely left behind us the wilderness lying between Gomushtepe and Khiva. Here I saw Uzbegs for the first time, and I found them very kind and friendly people. As usual we made, with our visits, the round of all the houses, and earned with our fatihas a plentiful harvest. We might still have reached Ilias's dwelling-place on the same day, but he had his dose of vanity and did not wish us to arrive there unexpectedly. We therefore passed the night, within two hours' march of his home, at the house of a rich uncle of his, who entertained us most sumptuously. In the interval he sent word of our arrival to his wife, and next morning, on the 1st of June, we entered the village of Akyap. The numerous kinsmen and friends of Ilias came out to meet us, receiving us most cordially. REST AND DREAD.To me he offered a handsome tent, for my quarters, but I preferred his garden, for my soul had long been yearning for the shade of trees. After a brief rest we resumed our march towards the capital, which we reached in safety on the following day. The capital, seen at a distance, surrounded by gardens and surmounted by its many towers and cupolas, makes a pleasing impression upon the traveller. In entering through the main gate of the city I could not shake off a certain fear of being found out or suspected by the Khan of Khiva, whose cruelty was condemned by the Tartars themselves, and at whose hands I had reason to expect a much sterner treatment than even from the Turkomans. I had heard that the Khan makes a slave of every stranger suspected by him, and that only recently this had been the sad fate of a Hindoo, alleged to be of princely origin. But by this time I was accustomed to brave almost any danger without losing my presence of mind. I therefore kept perfectly cool, and only busied myself devising schemes by means of which I might outwit the superstitious tyrant. I had collected, on the way, reliable and full information about every prominent man in Khiva who had visited Constantinople. The name of a certain Shukrullah Bey, who had there passed ten years in the capacity of an ambassador to the Sublime Porte, was most frequently mentioned, in this connection. I had a sort of hazy recollection of having met this man at the house of the Turkish Secretary of State. This Shukrullah Bey, I reflected, knows Stambul well; he must be familiar with the language and manners current with its better classes. Now I should pretend to a former acquaintanceship with him, and force it upon him whether he wants it or no; and as I thought myself fully capable of acting the character of a man from Stambul to such a perfection as to impose upon a native of that place, I felt sure that I should not to be suspected by the late ambassador of the Khan of Khiva, who would be thus obliged in a manner to countenance me.

Many people were already waiting for us at the gate, offering us bread and dried fruit. For years there had not arrived such a numerous party of hadjis; and people came crowding around, and gaping at us from every street in the city. We were greeted on all sides by the words, "Aman essen gheldinghiz!" (Happily arrived!) "Ha shahbazim! Ha arslanim!" (My falcon! My lion!) As soon as we arrived at the bazaar, Hadji Bilal began with a telkin (a hymn). My voice being the loudest of all, I could not help being moved upon people kissing my hands, feet, and even the loosely hanging rags of my garment, as if I had been some first-class saint or had just descended from heaven. We put up, according to the custom of the country, at the caravansary, used at the same time for a Custom House, and I set out, before long, in search of Shukrullah Bey. I had been told that he was now without any employment or office, and was living in a cell at the Medresse of Mehemmed Emin, the finest building in Khiva. MAKING A FRIEND.I introduced myself to him through one of his attendants as an Effendi come from Stambul, adding that I had known him there and wished to pay him my respects in passing through Khiva. The old gentleman was quite astonished at so strange an occurrence and came out himself to receive me, but was quite startled upon seeing before him a tattered beggar in rags. He nevertheless took me into his room, and no sooner had I pronounced a few words with the genuine Stambul accent, than he began to inquire, with increasing interest, after his friends at the Turkish capital, the political configurations, the new Sultan, and so forth. When, in the course of conversation, we became better acquainted, Shukrullah Bey thus apostrophized me: "For the love of God, what has induced thee, Effendi, to come from Stambul, that earthly paradise, to these fearful countries?" I then told him that I belonged to an order of dervishes, that my pir (spiritual chief) had sent me on this journey, and that a murid (a novice) is bound to obey the commands of the pir, even at the risk of his life. My new acquaintance was highly pleased with my explanations, and only wished to know the name of the dervish order to which I belonged, and when I told him that of the Nakishbend, he became aware that Bokhara was the object of my pilgrimage. He was desirous of immediately arranging quarters at the Medresse for me, but I declined, excusing myself by mentioning my fellow-travellers whom I had left behind, and went away promising to renew my visit very soon.

An officer from the Court came to me on the following day, bringing with him presents, destined for me, from the Khan, and orders from the latter to make my appearance at the ark (palace) that very evening, in order to bestow on him, the Khan, my fatiha, it being the Hazret's (his majesty's) most cherished wish to receive the blessing of a dervish coming from the Holy Land. I told him I should obey. I called upon Shukrullah Bey in the afternoon, as he wished to be present at the audience, and was conducted by him to the palace of the Khan. On our way there he gave me directions how to comport myself, and described to me the ceremonial I was to observe on being presented to the Khan. He informed me, at the same time, that not being on good terms with the mehter (minister), who looked on him as his rival, his, Shukrullah Bey's, recommendation might perhaps injure me rather than be of benefit to me. But following the prevailing custom, I nevertheless had myself first introduced to the mehter. His ante-chamber, it being audience day, was cramful of people who, on our entrance, respectfully made way for us, standing aside. Some women present were pointing at me, saying: "This is the dervish from Constantinople, who will bestow benediction on our Khan. May the Lord hearken to his words!"

I found the mehter in a porch, surrounded by his men, who smiled at every word uttered by him. His dark complexion and long beard reaching to his chest showed him to be a Persian. When he saw me approaching him he said something to his attendants. I marched up boldly to him, saluted him with becoming gravity, and immediately sat down in the principal place belonging by rights to a dervish. After saying the customary prayer, followed by every one's stroking his beard, and responding with a loud "Amen," I exchanged the usual formal courtesies with the mehter. Then he told me that the Hazret—at which word everybody rose from his seat—wished to see me, but that he would be very glad if I could produce a couple of lines from the Embassy at Teheran or the Sultan. I replied that my journey had no worldly aims, that I required nothing of anybody, but that for the safety of my person I had brought with me a firman provided with the tugra (the Sultan's seal). In saying this I handed the mehter my passport, which he kissed with great reverence, rubbing the seal against his forehead: then he rose and said he would give the document to the Khan. Shortly afterwards he returned, announcing to me that the Khan was ready to receive me. Shukrullah Bey entered first, and I had to wait until the necessary preparations were made. Although I was introduced as a dervish, the Khan had been informed by Shukrullah Bey that I knew every distinguished pasha in Constantinople. THE KHAN.After a while I was taken by the arm by two officers, the curtain was drawn aside, and I saw before me Seid Mehemmed Khan Padishahi Kharezm, the Khan of Khiva, seated on a terrace-like platform, a round velvet cushion supporting one arm, and holding a short gold sceptre in his other hand. Strictly adhering to the ceremonial prescribed for me, I lifted my hand, all present and the Khan himself following my example, recited a brief sura, a short passage from the Koran, two alahumu sellahs (God be praised) and a short prayer. As the Khan was taking hold of his beard in order to respond with "Amen" at the termination of the prayer every one called out, "Kabul bolgai!" (May thy prayer be heard!). Thereupon I drew near the prince, who held out his hand, and after having gone through the mussafeha (the salutation prescribed by the Koran—the two persons in giving a greeting extend an outstretched hand to each other), I retreated a few steps, and there was an end to the ceremony. The Khan now commenced to make inquiries about the object of my journey, and the impression the Turkomans, the great desert, and Khiva had made upon me. I replied that I had undergone a great many trials and sufferings, but that the sight of the Hazret's djemal mubarek (his Majesty's blessed beauty) compensated me abundantly for all my sufferings. "I thank Allah," I continued, "for allowing me to have this extraordinary good fortune, and I believe that I must look upon this signal favour of Kismet (fate) as a good omen for the safe progress of my journey." I was asked by the Khan if I intended to remain a long time in Khiva, and whether I was provided with the necessary wherewithal for my journey. I answered to him that before continuing my journey I intended visiting the graves of all the saints reposing in the blessed soil of the Khanate, and that as to being provided with the needful travelling expenses, we dervishes did not trouble ourselves about such worldly trifles; the nefes (holy spirit) which was given to me by my pir (chief of the dervish order) on my journey would sustain life in me for four or five days without taking any food. Therefore I had no other wish but that God might prolong his Majesty's life to one hundred and twenty years.

AUDIENCE WITH THE KHAN OF KHIVA.

My words seemed to have pleased his Royal Majesty, for he ordered that I should be given twenty gold pieces and a strong ass. I did not accept the money, under the pretext that it was a sin for a dervish to be possessed of money, but accepted the animal, adding, however, the request to select, if possible, a white one, for it was one of that colour which the sacred law prescribed for pilgrimages. I was about to withdraw, when I was asked by the Khan to be at least his guest during the short time I intended to pass at the capital, and to accept during this time from his treasury, daily, two tenghes (a sixpence) for my board. This offer, too, was declined with thanks, and I retired after having given my final benediction. Upon returning, I was greeted most respectfully with selam aleikums (Peace be unto you!) by the people who were thronging the courtyard of the palace and the bazaar. I did not breathe freely until I found myself in safety within the four walls of my cell.

Every feature in the Khan's face betrayed the debauched, worn-out, dull-minded, inhuman tyrant; his eyes were deeply sunken, his lips of a pallid white, and his voice was shaky. I was profoundly thankful for his exceptional kindness to me, and was pleased to think that I now could employ the time I had in wandering through the Khanate to my heart's content without any interference.

There was not much to be seen at the capital itself, and what little there was worthy of note might have been easily looked at in a couple of days. A LION IN KHIVA.But my time was entirely taken up by invitations from the Khan, the government officials and prominent merchants. Since it had become generally known that I was in the good graces of the king, everybody wished me and my dervish companions to be his guests. It was a real torture for me, to have to accept six and even eight invitations a day. I recall with a shudder, to this day, the number of times I had to sit down, early in the morning, between three and four o'clock, to a plate of rice swimming in a gravy of mutton fat. The Toshebaz (the name of the cloister where I was quartered) comprised a mosque and a large water-tank, and was therefore looked upon as a public building, and continually swarming with visitors. This offered me a very good opportunity of observing the dress, the mode of life and all the doings of the Uzbegs, and to become personally acquainted with several of them. The men wear tall pyramid-shaped fur caps on their head, and enormously large boots of Russian leather of shapeless bulk on their feet, besides which their costume consists in summer of only a long shirt. The women wear turbans of immense size, consisting of from fifteen to twenty Russian pocket handkerchiefs rolled one into the other, and are compelled, poor creatures, to drag jars of water during the greatest heat, having on their feet tremendously large boots, and muffled up in their manifold dresses. Often women were stopping at my door asking for a little khakishifa (health-powder) which the pilgrims bring with them from Medina, from the house of the Prophet, and which is used as a medicine against all sorts of ailings; or they would beg for a nefes (holy breath) and give a detailed account of their bodily sufferings. I had, of course, to comply with all requests, and touching the sore place I blew or breathed on it three times. Thereupon the patient heaved a deep sigh, and many of them insisted that they immediately felt relieved from pain. Both I and my hadji friends had reason to be gratified with the brilliant success of our dealing in the holy breath, for I myself earned fifteen gold pieces for the heavenly article.

I soon had occasion to become convinced that the mehter, the Khan's minister, was trying to injure me for no other reason except that he hated Shukrullah Bey, who patronized me. He could not very well doubt my being a Turk, but he endeavoured to make the Khan believe that I had put on the dervishship as a mask merely for some secret mission from the Sultan on which I was now going to Bokhara. Information of his perfidiousness had already reached me, and I was not at all surprised at being again invited to the Khan's court, a few days only after my first audience. A large company was present, and he received me immediately with the question, if it was true that I was versed in worldly knowledge too, and that I could write in a flowery style. He wished me to write something for him in the fashion of Stambul, which he was very desirous to see. I very well knew that the request was made in consequence of the mehter's machinations against me, who enjoyed the reputation of being clever in fine and flowery writing and had made inquiries respecting me of my hadji-companions. I produced my writing materials and wrote as follows: "High, mighty and terrible king and lord! I, thy poorest humblest servant, immersed in thy royal graces, keeping before my eyes the proverb that every fine writer is a fool, have hitherto occupied myself but little with studies of fine writing. On the other hand I recalled that other saying, that every fault becomes a virtue as soon as it pleases the king, and found courage to write down these lines."

These high-sounding titles pleased the Khan very much, but the mehter was too stupid to perceive the drift of my allusions. I was told to sit down and, having been treated with bread and tea, called upon by the Khan to come and talk with him. Politics were, this time, the exclusive topic of our conversation, but I, remaining faithful to the character of a dervish, showed but little interest in the matter, and every word had to be forced out of me. All this while the mehter was attentively listening and keenly scanning the expression of my countenance in the hope of my saying something to justify his suspicions, but it was all to no purpose. The Khan sent me away again with the repeated assurance of his good graces, and told me to draw upon his treasurer for my daily stipend. He ordered a yasaul (a court officer) to take me to the treasurer. I found the treasurer, who paid me at once the sum as directed, singularly employed. He was arranging the khilat (robe of honour), that is, those garments which were destined to be sent to the camp in order to invest with them the heroes, in reward of their bravery. There were four different sorts of silk suits of clothing, all of them the most glaring colours, richly embroidered with flowers in gold; and dividing them into four groups, he called them suits of four heads, suits of twelve heads, suits of twenty and of forty heads. This nomenclature struck me as very odd, all the more so as there was not the slightest trace of a head to be seen on those garments. Instead of answering my question the treasurer told me to meet him in a large public square on the following morning. I was there at the appointed time. FIERCE BARBARISM.I found about a hundred horsemen, who had just arrived from the camp, covered with dust, each of them leading a couple of prisoners, amongst them women and children, who were tied either to the horses' tails or the saddle-bows, each horseman bringing with him, besides, a sack which was thrown across the saddle. As soon as they arrived each of them handed over the prisoners, he had brought with him, as a present to the Khan, or some other grandee of the land; then they removed the sacks from the saddles and taking hold of the two sides of the one end they spilled their contents on the ground as one does with potatoes. But these were human heads, the heads of slaughtered enemies, which were rolling at the feet of the official who wrote down their number. He first carefully counted the number of heads brought by each horseman and then gave a receipt for the same, the servant kicking them meanwhile into a heap. The horsemen galloped away with their receipts, which were drafts upon the treasurer for their respective rewards, in the shape of robes of honour of four, twenty or forty heads.