He painted the perils in such lively terms that many separated themselves from our party; and as just at that moment an empty skiff appeared on the river, and the boatmen, approaching the bank where we were, offered to take us to Hezaresp, every one began to waver, and soon there remained only fourteen faithful to the original plan of the Kervanbashi. That, indeed, was the most critical moment of my whole journey! To return to Khiva might, I reflected, disturb the whole design of my journey. 'My life, indeed, is threatened everywhere--is everywhere in danger; forward, then, forward! better to perish by the fury of the elements than by the racks of tyrants!'

I remained with the Kervanbashi, as did also Hadji Salih and Hadji Bilal. It was a painful scene, that parting from our cowardly fellow-travellers; and behold, as the skiff was upon the point of putting off, our friends already on board proposed a Fal. [Footnote 40]

[Footnote 40: Fal (prognostic) is where one opens either the Koran or any other religious book at random, and seeks on the page before him a passage appropriate to his wish.]

The pebbles, indicating the number of verses to be read, were shared amongst us, and hardly had Hadji Salih, with the eye of experience, ascertained the result, when nearly all the Hadjis, abandoning the skiff, came back to us, and as everything was at hand, to prevent further hesitation and wavering, the impulse was at once obeyed, and we started. The sun had not yet set when we found ourselves already on the way to the Khalata, diverging sideways from the ruins of Tünüklü.

[Forced to throw itself into the Desert, 'Destroyer of Life']

It is easy to imagine what mood we were in, I and my companions, already so well acquainted with the terrors of the desert! From Gömüshtepe to Khiva we had been in the month of May; we were now in July. {157} Then we had had rain-water; but here there was not a single source that could be turned to account. With unutterable regret our eyes rested on the Oxus, that became more and more remote, and shone doubly beautiful in the last beams of the departing sun. Even the camels, who before we started had drunk abundantly, kept their eyes so full of expression for a long, long time turned in the same direction!

A few stars began to gleam in the heavens when we reached the sandy desert. We maintained the stillness of death during our march, in order that we might escape the notice of the Turkomans probably then in our vicinity. They might perhaps not see us on account of the darkness of the night, the moon not rising till later. We wished also that no sound might betray our position to them. On the soft ground the tread of the camels produced no echo. We feared, however, that some freak of braying might occur to our asses, for their voices would echo far and wide in the still night. Towards midnight we reached a place where we were all obliged to dismount, as both asses and camels were sinking down to their knees in the fine sand. This, indeed, formed there an uninterrupted chain of little hills. In the cool night march I could just manage to tramp on through this endless sand; but towards morning I felt my hand beginning to swell from continually resting upon my staff. I consequently placed my baggage on the ass, and took its place upon the camel; which, although breathing hard, was still more in his element in the sand than I with my lame leg.

[Thirst]

Our morning station bore the charming appellation of Adamkyrylgan (which means 'the place where men perish'), and one needed only to cast a look at the {158} horizon to convince himself how appropriate is that name. Let the reader picture to himself a sea of sand, extending as far as eye can reach, on one side formed into high hills, like waves, lashed into that position by the furious storm; on the other side, again, like the smooth waters of a still lake, merely rippled by the west wind. Not a bird visible in the air, not a worm or beetle upon the earth; traces of nothing but departed life, in the bleaching bones of man or beast that has perished, collected by every passer-by in a heap, to serve to guide the march of future travellers! Why add that we moved on unnoticed by the Turkomans? The man does not exist on earth that could make a station here on horseback; but whether the elements would not oppose our progress was a point the consideration of which shook even the sang froid of the Oriental, and the sombre looks of my fellow-travellers during the whole way best betrayed their anxiety. According to what the Kervanbashi told us, we should have had altogether on this way, from Tünüklü to Bokhara, only six days' journey, half through sand, the rest over firm and even ground, where here and there grass is met with and shepherds resort. Consequently, after the examination of our skins, we calculated that we should only have to apprehend a deficiency of water during one day and a half; but the very first day I remarked that the Oxus water did not bear out our calculations; that that most precious liquid, although we made a most sparing use of it, diminished every moment, either from the heat of the sun, its own evaporation, or some such cause. This discovery made me watch my stores with double carefulness; in this I was imitated by the others, and, in spite of our anxiety, it was even comical to see how {159} the slumberers slept, firmly embracing their water vessels.

[Death of Camels]

Notwithstanding the scorching heat, we were obliged to make, during the day also, marches of from five to six hours' duration, for the sooner we emerged from the region of sand, the less occasion we had to dread the dangerous wind Tebbad, [Footnote 41] for on the firm plain it can but bring with it the torture of fever, whereas in the region of sand it can in a moment bury everything. The strength of the poor camels was taxed too far; they entered the desert wearied by their nocturnal journey; it was not, therefore, surprising that some fell ill through the torments of the sand and the heat, and that two died even at this day's station. It bears the name of Shorkutuk. This word signifies salt fountain, and one, in fact, is said to exist here, adequate for the refreshment of beasts, but it was entirely choked up by the stormy wind, and a day's labour would have been necessary to render it again serviceable.

[Footnote 41: Tebbad, a Persian word signifying fever wind.]

[Death of a Hadji]

But let alone the Tebbad, the oppressive heat by day had already left us without strength, and two of our poorer companions, forced to tramp on foot by the side of their feeble beasts, having exhausted all their water, fell so sick that we were forced to bind them at full length upon the camels, as they were perfectly incapable of riding or sitting. We covered them, and as long as they were able to articulate they kept exclaiming, 'Water! water!' the only words that escaped their lips. Alas! even their best friends denied them the life-dispensing draught; and when we, on the fourth day, reached Medemin Bulag one {160} of them was freed by death from the dreadful torments of thirst. It was one of the three brothers who had lost their father at Mecca. I was present when the unfortunate man drew his last breath. His tongue was quite black, the roof of his mouth of a greyish white; in other respects his features were not much disfigured, except that his lips were shrivelled, the teeth exposed, and the mouth open. I doubt much whether, in these extreme sufferings, water would have been of service; but who was there to give it to him?

It is a horrible sight to see the father hide his store of water from the son, and brother from brother; each drop is life, and when men feel the torture of thirst, there is not, as in the other dangers of life, any spirit of self-sacrifice, or any feeling of generosity.

[Stormy Wind]

We passed three days in the sandy parts of the desert. We had now to gain the firm plain, and come in sight of the Khalata mountain, that stretches away toward the north. Unhappily, disappointment again awaited us. Our beasts were incapable of further exertion, and we passed a fourth day in the sand. I had still left about six glasses of water in my leathern bottle. These I drank drop by drop, suffering, of course, terribly from thirst. Greatly alarmed to find that my tongue began to turn a little black in the centre, I immediately drank off at a draught half of my remaining store, thinking so to save my life; but, oh! the burning sensation, followed by headache, became more violent towards the morning of the fifth day, and when we could just distinguish, about mid-day, the Khalata mountains from the clouds that surrounded them, I felt my strength gradually abandon me. {161} The nearer we approached the mountains, the thinner the sand became, and all eyes were searching eagerly to discover a drove of cattle or shepherd's hut, when the Kervanbashi and his people drew our attention to a cloud of dust that was approaching, and told us to lose no time in dismounting from the camels. These poor brutes knew well enough that it was the Tebbad that was hurrying on; uttering a loud cry, they fell on their knees, stretched their long necks along the ground, and strove to bury their heads in the sand. We entrenched ourselves behind them, lying there as behind a wall (see Plate); and scarcely had we, in our turn, knelt under their cover, than the wind rushed over us with a dull, clattering sound, leaving us, in its passage, covered with a crust of sand two fingers thick. The first particles that touched me seemed to burn like a rain of flakes of fire. Had we encountered it when we were six miles deeper in the desert, we should all have perished. I had not time to make observations upon the disposition to fever and vomiting caused by the wind itself, but the air became heavier and more oppressive than before.

Tebbad--Sand Storm in the Desert.

Where the sand comes entirely to an end, three different ways are visible: the first (22 miles long) passes by Karaköl; the second (18 miles), through the plain to the immediate vicinity of Bokhara; the third (20 miles) traverses the mountains where water is to be met with, but it is inaccessible to camels on account of its occasional steepness. We took, as it had been previously determined, the middle route, the shortest, particularly as we were animated by the hope of finding water amongst those who tended their flocks there. Towards evening we reached fountains that had not yet been visited this year by the {162} shepherds; the water, undrinkable by man, still refreshed our beasts. We were ourselves all very ill, like men half dead, without any animation but that which proceeded from the now well-grounded hope that we should all be saved!

[Precarious State of Author; Hospitable Reception amongst Persian Slaves]

I was no longer able to dismount without assistance; they laid me upon the ground; a fearful fire seemed to burn my entrails; my headache reduced me almost to a state of stupefaction. My pen is too feeble to furnish even a slight sketch of the martyrdom that thirst occasions; I think that no death can be more painful. Although I have found myself able to nerve myself to face all other perils, here I felt quite broken. I thought, indeed, that I had reached the end of my life. Towards midnight we started, I fell asleep, and on awaking in the morning found myself in a mud hut, surrounded by people with long beards; in these I immediately recognised children of 'Iran.' They said to me: 'Shuma ki Hadji nistid' (You, certainly, are no Hadji). I had no strength to reply. They at first gave me something warm to drink, and a little afterwards some sour milk, mixed with water and salt, called here 'Airan:' that gave me strength and set me up again.

I now first became aware that I and my other fellow-travellers were the guests of several Persian slaves, who had been sent hither in the middle of the wilderness, at a distance of ten miles from Bokhara, to tend sheep; they had received from their owners only a scanty supply of bread and water, so that they might find it impossible to make such a provision as should help them to flee away through the wilderness. And yet these unfortunate exiles had had the magnanimity to share their store of water with their arch-enemies, {163} the Sunnite Mollahs! To me they showed peculiar kindness, as I addressed them in their mother tongue. Persian, it is true, is spoken also in Bokhara, but the Persian of the Irani is different from the former.

I was much touched to see amongst them a child five years old, also a slave, of great intelligence. He had been, two years before, captured and sold with his father. When I questioned him about the latter, he answered me confidingly. 'Yes; my father has bought himself (meaning paid his own ransom); at longest I shall only be a slave two years, for by that time my father will have spared the necessary money.' The poor child had on him hardly anything but a few little rags, to cover his weak little body; his skin was of the hardness and colour of leather. I gave him one of my own articles of attire, and he promised me to have a dress made out of it for himself.

The unhappy Persians gave us besides a little water to take with us. I left them with a mixed feeling of gratitude and compassion. We started with the intention of making our next station at Khodja Oban, a place to which pilgrims resort to visit the grave of a saint of the same name: it was, indeed, out of our road, lying a little to the north, still, as Hadjis, we were bound to proceed thither. To the great regret of my companions we lost our way at night between the hills of sand that are on the margin of the desert, and out of the middle of which Khodja Oban projects like an oasis; and when, after a long search, the day broke we found ourselves on the bank of a lake full of sweet water. Here terminated the desert, and with it the fear of a death from thirst, robbers, wind, or other hardships. We had now come positively to the frontiers of Bokhara, properly so called; and when, {164} after two leagues' journey, we reached Khakemir (the village where the Kervanbashi resided), we found ourselves already in the middle of a country tolerably well cultivated. The whole district is watered by canals connected with the river Zereshan.

In Khakemir there are but 200 houses. It is only two leagues distant from Bokhara. We were obliged to pass the night here, that the tax-collector (Badjghir) and reporter (Vakanüvisz), informed of our arrival in accordance with the law, might be in a position to complete their report of search and examination outside the city.

The very same day a messenger went express, and the following one, very early in the morning, arrived three of the Emir's officers, with faces full of official dignity and importance, to levy upon us the imposts and duties, but more especially to learn tidings concerning the adjoining countries. They first began to overhaul our baggage. The Hadjis had, for the most part, in their knapsacks holy beads from Mecca, dates from Medina, combs from Persia, and knives, scissors, thimbles, and small looking-glasses from Frenghistan. And although my friends declared that the Emir, 'God grant him to live 120 years,' would never take any customs from Hadjis, the collector did not in the slightest degree allow himself to be diverted from his functions, but wrote down each article separately. I remained, with two other mendicants, to the last. When the official looked at my face he laughed, told me to show my trunk, 'for that we' (meaning, probably, Europeans, as he took me for one) 'had always fine things with us.' I happened to be in excellent humour, and had on my Dervish or fool's cap. I interrupted the cunning Bokhariot, saying 'that I had, {165} in effect, some beautiful things, which he would see himself when he came to examine my property, movable and immovable.' As he insisted upon seeing everything, I ran into the court, fetched my ass, and led it to him up the stairs and over the carpets into the room; and after having introduced it, amid the loud laughter of my companions, I lost no time in opening my knapsack, and then showed him the few rags and old books which I had collected in Khiva. The disappointed Bokhariot looked round him in astonishment, demanding if I really had nothing more. Whereupon Hadji Salih gave him explanations as to my rank, my character, as well as the object I had in view, in my journey; all of which he noted down carefully, accompanying the act with a look at me and a shake of the head full of meaning. When the collector had finished with us, the functions of the Vakanüvisz (writer of events) began. He first took down the name of each traveller with a detailed description of his person, and then whatever information or news each might have it in his power to give. What a ridiculous proceeding--a long string of questions respecting Khiva, a land of kindred language, origin, and religion with Bokhara; their frontiers having been for centuries and centuries coterminous, and their capitals lying only a few days' journey distant from each other.

[First Impression of Bokhara the Noble.]

Everything was in order, only some difference of opinion arose as to the quarter in the capital where we should first put up. The collector proposed the custom-house, hoping, at least, there to be able to squeeze something out of us, or to subject me to a stricter examination. Hadji Salih (for the latter, possessing much influence in Bokhara, now took the lead in the {166} karavan) declared, on the contrary, his purpose to put up in the Tekkie; and we started at once from Khakemir, and had only proceeded half-an-hour through a country resplendent with gardens and cultivated fields, when Bokhara Sherif (the noble, as the Central Asiatics designate it) appeared in view, with, amongst some other buildings, its clumsy towers, crowned, almost without exception, by nests of storks. [Footnote 42]

[Footnote 42: In Khiva nightingales abound, but there are no storks; the reverse is the case at Bokhara, in which there is not a single tower or other elevated building where we do not see birds of the last-named description, sitting, like single-legged sentinels, upon the roofs. The Khivite mocks the Bokhariot upon this subject, saying, 'Thy nightingale song is the bill-clapping of the stork.']

At the distance of about a league and a half from the city we crossed the Zerefshan. It flows in a southerly direction, and, although its current is tolerably strong, is fordable by camels and horses. On the opposite side was still visible the tête du pont of a once handsomely-built stone bridge. Close to it stood the ruins of a palace, also of stone. I was told that it was the work of the renowned Abdullah Khan Sheibani. Taken altogether, there are, in the immediate environs of the capital of Central Asia, few remains of her former grandeur.

CHAPTER X.

[Bokhara; Reception at the Tekkie, the Chief Nest of Islamism]

The road led us to the Dervaze Imam, situated to the west, but we did not pass through it, because, as our Tekkie lay to the north-east, we should have been forced to make our way through all the throngs in the bazaar. We preferred, therefore, to take a circuitous route along the city wall. This we found, in many places, in a ruinous state. Entering by the gate called Dervaze Mezar, we speedily reached the spacious Tekkie. It was planted with fine trees, formed a regular square, and had forty-eight cells on the ground floor. {168} The present Khalfa (principal) is grandson of Khalfa Hüsein, renowned for his sanctity, and the Tekkie itself is named after him. The estimation in which his family stands is shown by the fact that his relative, above mentioned, is Imam and Khatib (court priest) of the Emir, an official position which made me not a little proud of my host. Hadji Salih, who was a Mürid (disciple) of the saint, and was consequently regarded as a member of the family, presented me. The respectable 'Abbot,' a man of gentle demeanour and agreeable exterior, whom his snow-white turban and summer dress of fine silk well became, received me in the warmest manner, and, as I maintained for half-an-hour a conversation couched in tumid and far-fetched language, the good man was overjoyed, and regretted that the Badewlet [Footnote 43] (his Majesty the Emir) was not in Bokhara, that he might immediately present me.

[Footnote 43: Badewlet means properly 'the prosperous one.']

[Rahmet Bi]

He assigned me a cell to myself in the place of honour, that is where I had, as neighbours, on one side a very learned Mollah, and on the other Hadji Salih: this establishment was filled with personages of celebrity. I had fallen, without having remarked it, upon the chief nest of Islamite fanaticism in Bokhara. The locality itself, if I could but accommodate myself to its spirit, might turn out the best and safest guarantee against all suspicions, and save me all disagreeable scenes with the civil authorities. The reporter had returned my arrival as an event of importance; the first officer of the Emir, Rahmet Bi, who during his master's campaign in Khokand commanded in Bokhara, had directed that the Hadjis should, that very day, be questioned concerning me; {169} but in the Tekkie the Emir's orders were inoperative, and so little respect was entertained for the investigation, that no communication at all was made to me on the subject. My good friends replied in the following manner to the doubts of laymen:--'Hadji Reshid is not only a good Musselman, but at the same time a learned Mollah; to have any suspicion of him is a mortal sin.' But, in the meantime, they advised me how I was to act, and it is solely to their counsels and invaluable suggestions that I can ascribe my having entirely escaped mishap in Bokhara; for, not to mention the sad ends of those travellers who preceded me to this city, I have found it a most perilous place, not only for all Europeans, but for every stranger, because the Government has carried the system of espionage to just as high a pitch of perfection as the population has attained pre-eminence in every kind of profligacy and wickedness.

[Bazaars]

I went next morning, accompanied by Hadji Salih and four others of our friends, to view the city and the bazaars; and although the wretchedness of the streets and houses far exceeded that of the meanest habitations in Persian cities, and the dust, a foot deep, gave but an ignoble idea of the 'noble Bokhara,' I was nevertheless astonished when I found myself for the first time in the bazaar, and in the middle of its waving crowd.

These establishments in Bokhara are indeed far from splendid and magnificent, like those of Teheran, Tabris, and Isfahan; but still, by the strange and diversified intermixture of races, dresses, and customs, they present a very striking spectacle to the eye of a stranger. In the moving multitude most bear the type of Iran, and have their heads surmounted by {170} a turban, white or blue--the former colour being distinctive of the gentleman or the Mollah, the latter the appropriate ornament of the merchant, handi-craftsman, and servant. After the Persian it is the Tartar physiognomy that predominates. We meet it in all its degrees, from the Özbeg, amongst whom we find a great intermixture of blood, to the Kirghis, who have preserved all the wildness of their origin. No need to look the latter in the face; his heavy, firm tread suffices alone to distinguish him from the Turani and the Irani. Then imagine that you see in the midst of the throng of the two principal races of Asia some Indians (Multani, as they are here called) and Jews. Both wear a Polish cap, for the sake of distinction, [Footnote 44] and a cord round their loins; the former, with his red mark on his forehead, and his yellow repulsive face, might well serve to scare away crows from rice fields; the latter, with his noble, pre-eminently-handsome features, and his splendid eye, might sit to any of our artists for a model of manly beauty. There were also Turkomans distinguished from all by the superior boldness and fire of their glance, thinking, perhaps, what a rich harvest the scene before them would yield to one of their Alamans. Of Afghans but few are seen. The meaner sort, with their long dirty shirts, and still dirtier hair streaming down, throw a cloth, in Roman fashion, round their shoulders; but this does not prevent their looking like persons who rush for safety from their beds into the streets, when their houses are on fire.

[Footnote 44: Elameti Tefrikie, which according to the provisions of the Koran, every subject, not a Musselman, must wear in order that the salutation 'Selam Aleïkum' (Peace be with you!) may not be thrown away upon him.]

This diversified chaos of Bokhariots, Khivites, Khokandi, Kirghis, Kiptchak, Turkomans, Indians, Jews, and Afghans, is represented in all the principal bazaars; and although everything is in unceasing movement up and down, I am yet unable to detect any trace of the bustling life so strikingly characteristic of the bazaars in Persia.

I kept close to my companions, casting as I passed glances at the booths, which contain, with a few articles from the other countries in Europe, fancy goods and merchandise, more especially of Russian manufacture. These have no particular intrinsic attractions in themselves for a European traveller to this remote city; but they interest him nevertheless, for each piece of calico, each ticket attached to it, identifying the origin with the name of the manufacturer, makes him feel as if he has met a countryman. How my heart beat when I read the words 'Manchester' and 'Birmingham,' and how apprehensive I was of betraying myself by an imprudent exclamation! There are very few large warehouses or wholesale dealers; and in spite of cotton, calico, and fine muslin being sold, not only in the Restei Tchit Furushi (the place where cotton is exposed for sale), which has 284 shops, but also in many other places in the city, I might boldly affirm that my friends 'Hanhart and Company,' in Tabris, dispose alone of as much of the articles above named as the whole city of Bokhara, in spite of the latter being denominated the capital of Central Asia. That department in its bazaar has more interest for the stranger, where he sees spread out before him the products of Asiatic soil and native industry; such, for instance, as that cotton stuff named Aladja, which {172} has narrow stripes of two colours, and a fine texture; different sorts of silken manufactures, from the fine handkerchief of the consistence of the spider's web, to the heavy Atres; but particularly manufactures in leather. These play, indeed, a preeminent part; in this department the skill of the leather-cutter, and still more, that of the shoemaker, deserves commendation. Boots, both for male and female wear, are tolerably well made: the former have high heels, terminating in points about the size of a nail's head; the latter are somewhat thick, but often ornamented with the finest silk.

I had almost forgotten the bazaar and booths where clothes are exposed to tempt the eyes of purchasers. They consist of articles of attire of brilliant bright colours.

The Oriental, only here to be met with in his original purity and peculiarity, is fond of the Tchakhtchukh or rustling tone of the dress. It was always an object of great delight to me to see the seller parading up and down a few paces in the new Tchapan (dress), to ascertain whether it gave out the orthodox tone. All is the produce of home manufacture, and very cheap; consequently it is in the clothes' market of Bokhara that 'believers,' even from remote parts of Tartary, provide themselves with fashionable attire. Even the Kirghis, Kiptchak, and Kalmuks are in the habit of making excursions hither from the desert; and the wild Tartar, with his eyes oblique and chin prominent, laughs for joy when he exchanges his clothes, made of the undressed horse-skins, for a light Yektey (a sort of summer dress), for it is here that he sees his highest ideal of civilisation. Bokhara is his Paris or his London.

After having strolled around for about three hours, I begged my guide and excellent friend, Hadji Salih, to lead me to a place of refreshment, where I might be allowed a little repose. He complied, and conducted me through the Timtche Tchay Furushi (Tea Bazaar) to the renowned place Lebi Hauz Divanbeghi (bank of the reservoir of the Divanbeghi). For Bokhara, I found this a most attractive spot. It is almost a perfect square, having in the centre a deep reservoir, 100 feet long and 80 broad; the sides are of square stones, with eight steps leading down to the surface of the water. About the margin stand a few fine elm trees, and in their shade the inevitable tea booth, and the Samovars (tea-kettle), looking like a colossal cask of beer. It is manufactured in Russia expressly for Bokhara, and invites every one to a cup of green tea. On the other three sides, bread, fruit, confectionery, and meats warm and cold, are exposed for sale on stands shaded by cane mats. The hundreds of shops improvised for the occasion, around which crowds of longing mouths or hungry customers hum like bees, present us with a very characteristic spectacle. On the fourth side, that to the west, which is in the form of a terrace, we find the mosque Mesdjidi Divanbeghi. At its front there are also a few trees, where Dervishes and Meddah (public reciters) recount in verse and prose, and actors represent simultaneously, the heroic actions of famous warriors and prophets; to which performances there are never wanting crowds of curious listeners and spectators. When I entered this place, as fate would have it, still further to enhance the interest of the exhibition, there were passing by, in their weekly procession, Dervishes of the order of the Nakishbendi, of whom this city is {174} the place of origin and the principal abode. Never shall I forget that scene when those fellows, with their wild enthusiasm and their high conical caps, fluttering hair, and long staves, danced round like men possessed, bellowing out at the same time a hymn, each strophe of which was first sung for them by their grey-bearded chief. With eye and ear so occupied, I soon forgot my fatigue. My friend was obliged positively to force me to enter a booth, and, after the precious Shivin (a kind of tea) was poured out, wishing to profit by the ecstatic feeling in which he found me, he asked me, chucklingly, 'Now, then, what do you say to Bokhara Sherif (the noble)?' 'It pleases me much,' I replied; and the Central Asiatic, although from Khokand, and an alien enemy, as his nation was at that moment at war with Bokhara, was nevertheless delighted to find that the capital of Turkestan had made such a conquest of me, and gave me his word that he would show me its finest features in the course of the following days.

[Baha-ed-din, Great Saint of Turkestan]

In spite of the costume, strictly Bokhariot, which I had this day assumed, and of my being so tanned by the sun that even my mother would have had a difficulty in recognising me, I was surrounded, wherever I appeared, by a crowd of inquisitive persons. Ah! how they shook me by the hands, and how they embraced me; how they wearied me to death! An immense turban [Footnote 45] crowned my head, a large Koran hung suspended from my neck;

[Footnote 45: The turban, it is well known, represents the pall that every pious Musselman must bear on his head as a continual memento of death. The Koran only enjoins a pall (Kefen) having a length of 7 ells. But zealots often exceed the measure, and carry about on their heads 4 to 6 such palls, thus making altogether from 28 to 42 ells of fine muslin.]

I had thus assumed the exterior of an Ishan or Sheikh, and was obliged to submit to the corvée which I had so provoked. Still, I had reason to be contented, for the sanctity of my character had protected me from secular interrogations, and I heard how the people about questioned my friends, or whispered their criticisms to each other. 'What extreme piety,' said one, 'to come all the way from Constantinople to Bokhara alone, in order to visit our Baha-ed-din!' [Footnote 46] 'Yes,' said a second, 'and we, too, we go to Mecca, the holiest place of all, to be sure, with no little trouble.' But these people (and he pointed to me) having nothing else to do, their whole life is prayer, piety, and pilgrimage.' 'Bravo! you have guessed it,' I said to myself, delighted that my disguise was becoming so pregnant of consequence. And really I was, during my whole stay in the capital of Turkestan, not once an object of doubt or suspicion to the people, in other respects cunning and malicious enough. They came to me for my blessing; they listened to me when, on the public places, I read to them the history of the great Sheikh of Bagdad, Abdul Kadr Ghilani. They praised me, but not a farthing did I ever get from them; and the semblance of sanctity in this nation presented a singular contrast with the genuine piety and benevolence of the Khivan Ozbegs.

[Footnote 46: Baha-ed-din,--or according to Bokhariot pronunciation, Baveddin--is an ascetic and saint renowned throughout all Islam, the founder of the Nakishbendi order; members of it are to be met with in India, China, Persia, Arabia, and Turkey. He died in 1388, and the convent, as well as the mosque, and space walled in for his grave in the village of Baveddin, were erected by direction of Abdul Aziz Khan in the year 1490.]

[Spies set upon Author; Fate of recent Travellers in Bokhara]

But in playing my part it was not so easy to deceive the Government as the people. Rahmet Bi, whom I before spoke of, not being able to come at me openly, set spies incessantly at work. These, in conversing with me, took care to embrace a variety of subjects, but always came to the subject of Frenghistan, hoping, probably, that I should betray myself by some unguarded expression or other. Perceiving that the twig which they had so limed did not catch its bird, they began to speak of the great pleasure which the Frenghis experience in the 'noble' Bokhara, and how already many of their spies, but particularly the Englishmen, Conolly and Stoddart, had been punished. [Footnote 47] Or they recounted to me the story of the Frenghis who had arrived only a few days before, and had been imprisoned (referring to the unfortunate Italians); how they had brought with them several chests of tea sprinkled with diamond dust, to poison all the inhabitants of the holy city; how they converted day into night, and brought about other infernal strokes of art. [Footnote 48]

[Footnote 47: The sad fate of these two martyrs has continued to remain, as I remarked, a secret even in Bokhara; the most contradictory reports are up to the present day in circulation upon this subject. The reader will readily understand that without betraying my real identity it was impossible for me to put the necessary questions to elicit any fresh information; and the sad event having been so frequently and so fully entered into by Wolff, Ferrier, T. W. Kaye, and others who have written officially and unofficially upon the subject, any notices collected by myself in my journey through Bokhara seem entirely useless and uncalled for.]

[Footnote 48: They, it appears, have recently been liberated.]

[Book Bazaar]

These bloodhounds were for the most part Hadjis who had long dwelt in Constantinople, and whose design was to test at once my knowledge of its language, and my acquaintance with its mode of living. After listening to them a long time with patience, it was my habit to put on an air of disgust, and to beg them to spare me any further conversation about the Frenghis. 'I quitted Constantinople,' I said, 'to get away from these Frenghis, who seem indebted to the devil for their understanding. Thank God I am now in the "noble" Bokhara, and do not wish to embitter the time I spend here by any recollections.' Similar language I employed also with the crafty Mollah Sherefeddin, the Aksakal of the booksellers, who showed me a list of books which a Russian ambassador, a few years ago, had left behind him. I threw my eye carelessly over them and observed, 'Allah be praised, my memory is not yet corrupted by the science and books of the Frenghis, as unhappily is too often the case with the Turks of Constantinople!' [Footnote 49]

[Footnote 49: One day, a servant of the Vizir brought to me a little shrivelled individual, that I might examine him to see whether he was, as he pretended, really an Arab from Damascus. When he first entered, his features struck me much, they appeared to me European: when he opened his mouth, my astonishment and perplexity increased, for I found his pronunciation anything rather than that of an Arab. He told me that he had undertaken a pilgrimage to the tomb of Djafen Ben Sadik at Khoten in China, and wanted to proceed on his journey that very day. His features during our conversation betrayed a visible embarrassment, and it was a subject of great regret to me that I had not an occasion to see him a second time, for I am strongly disposed to think that he was playing a part similar to my own!]

When Rhamet Bi saw that he could not, by his emissaries, found any accusation, he summoned me to attend him. Of course, this was in the form of a public invitation to a Pilow, which was also attended by a circle composed of Bokhariot Ulemas. At my very entry I found that I had a hard nut to crack, for the whole interview was a sort of examination, in {178} which my incognito had to stand a running fire. I saw, however, while it was yet time, the danger to which I was exposed; and, to escape being surprised by some sudden question or other, I assumed the part of one himself curious of information, frequently interrogating these gentlemen as to the difference of religious principles in the Farz, Sünnet, Vadjib, and Mustahab. [Footnote 50]

[Footnote 50: These are the four grades expressing the importance of the commandments of Islam. Farz means the duty enjoined by God through the Prophet; Sünnet, the tradition emanating from the Prophet himself without Divine inspiration. The latter two words, Vadjib and Mustahab, signify ordinances originating with more recent interpreters of the Koran; the former being obligatory, the latter discretionary.]

My earnestness met with favour; and soon a very warm dispute arose upon several points in Hidayet, Sherkhi Vekaye, and other books treating of similar subjects; in this I was careful to take part, praising loudly the Bokhariot Mollahs, and admitting their great superiority, not only over me, but over all the Ulemas of Constantinople. Suffice it to say that I got safe through this ordeal also. My brethren, the Mollahs, gave Rahmet Bi to understand, both by their signs and words, that his reporter had made a great mistake, and that, even supposing me not to be a Mollah of distinction, I was still one on the high road to receive worthily the lightning-flash of true knowledge.

After this scene they left me to live a quiet life in Bokhara. It was my practice first of all to fulfil at home the different duties imposed upon me by my character of Dervish. I then proceeded to the book bazaar, which contains twenty-six shops. A printed {179} book is here a rarity. In this place, and in the houses of the booksellers (for there is the great depot), many are the treasures that I have seen, which would be of incalculable value to our Oriental historians and philologists. Their acquisition was, in my case, out of the question, for in the first place I had not the adequate means, and in the second, any appearance of worldly knowledge might have prejudiced my disguise. The few manuscripts that I brought back with me from Bokhara and Samarcand cost me much trouble to acquire, and my heart bled when I found that I was obliged to leave behind me works that might have filled many an important history in our Oriental studies. From the book market I was in the habit of resorting to the Righistan (public place); it lay rather remote. Although larger and more bustling than the Lebi Hauz, which I before described, it is far from being so agreeable; we find here also a reservoir surrounded by booths for tea; from the bank we can discern the Ark (castle or palace) of the Emir, which is on the opposite side, situate upon high ground. The portal was crowned by a clock; it had a gloomy appearance. I shuddered when I passed by this nest of tyranny, the place where, perhaps, many who preceded me had been murdered, and where, even at that moment, three wretched Europeans were languishing so far from their country and every possibility of succour. Near the gate lay fourteen pieces of brass cannon, the long barrels of which were highly ornamented. The Emir had sent them home from Khokand as trophies of the victories gained in his campaign. Above, to the right of the palace, is Mesdjidi Kelan, the largest mosque in Bokhara; it was built by Abdullah Khan Sheibani.

After leaving the Righistan, I entered the tea-booth of a Chinese from Komul, [Footnote 51] a man perfectly acquainted with the Turko-Tartar language, and who passed here for a Musselman. This good man was very friendly to me, and yet how far were our homes asunder! He recounted to me much concerning the beautiful locality, much of the customs, and the excellent dishes, too, of his fatherland! But his experience was particularly great in matters connected with teas. How enthusiastically he spoke when treating of the tea-shrub, which displayed upon a single stem leaves of such a variety of flavours! He had in his shop sixteen different kinds, which he could distinguish by the touch. [Footnote 52]

[Footnote 51: Komul is distant 40 stations from Kashgar and 60 from Bokhara.]

[Footnote 52: The teas were of the following kinds:--
(1) Kyrkma.
(2) Akhbar.
(3) Ak Kuyruk.
These kinds, rarely seen in Central Asia and in China, are more used in Russia, Persia, and Europe.
(4) Kara Tchaj.
(5) Sepet Tchaj.
These two, sold like Chinese Kynaster, pressed into the form of a brick, are drunk only in the morning with cream and salt, and are very stimulating.
(6) Shibaglu.
(7) Gore Shibaglu.
(8) Shivin.
(9) It Kellesi.
(10) Bönge.
(11) Poshun.
(12) Pu-Tchay.
(13) Tun tey.
(14) Gülbuy.
(15) Mishk-göz.
(16) Lonka.
These are all green teas, none others are in favour in the north of China and in Central Asia. The last-named (Lonka) is regarded as the most precious, a single leaf suffices for a cup which equals two of ours.

The purchaser first forms a judgment of his tea by tasting a leaf that has been already boiled: when the tea is good the leaf is extremely fine and soft.]

I had, during my journey from Teheran to Bokhara, heard the latter city so often described by my companions, that after a sojourn of eight days I was quite at home. First of all Hadji Salih led me everywhere, and then I continued my investigations alone, through the city, its bazaars, and its colleges (Medresse), only accompanying my friends when we received joint invitations to the house of a Chinese Tartar who had settled there. We were on these occasions usually treated to national dishes, to which my friends (I mean Hadji Bilal and his party) had long been strangers. There is one which I will impart in confidence to my European readers, for I can recommend it as a dainty. It is called Mantuy, a sort of pudding filled with hashed meat mixed with fat and spices. This they boil in a singular manner. They place upon the fire a kettle of water, which is covered in at the top, with the exception of an opening of about the size of one's closed hand. Upon this opening are placed three or four strainers or sieves, which close firmly, the under one being made fast with dough to the kettle itself. As soon as the water begins to boil, and a sufficient quantity of steam passes into the strainers, the Mantuy is at first laid in the upper, and then in the lowest strainer; here it is suffered to remain until done. It seems singular that the Chinese should employ steam in the preparation of their meats! The Mantuys, after having been boiled, are then often broiled in fat, when they receive the name Zenbusi (lady's kiss). My friends from Kashgar and Yarkend have many more dishes peculiarly their own, but these receipts would only suit a Tartar cookery book.