wels are scattered about like stones. These
mica-spangled hills bear about the same relation to what one's
imagination might conceive them to be as the "gorgeous East" as it
actually exists does to the "gorgeous East" we read of in fairytales.

Beyond the mica hills, I pass through a stretch of abandoned cultivation,
where formerly existed fields and ditches, and villages with an abundance
of portable property tempted Turkoman raiders to guide their matchless
chargers hither. But small outlying settlements hereabout were precarious
places to live in, and the persistent damans generally caused them to be
abandoned entirely from time to time.

The road has averaged good to-day, and Mijamid is reached at four
o'clock. Seeking the shelter of the chapar-khana, that devoted building
is soon surrounded by a new-dressed and accordingly a good-natured and
vociferous crowd shouting--"Sowar shuk! sowar shuk! tomasha!
tomasha!"

As I survey the grinning, shouting multitude from my retreat on the roof,
and note the number of widely-opened mouths, the old wicked thoughts
about hot potatoes and dexterity in throwing them persist in coming to
the fore. Several scrimmages and quarrels occur between the chapar-jee
and his shagirds, and the crowd, who persist in invading the premises,
and the tumult around is something deafening, for it is holiday times and
the people feel particularly self-indulgent and disinclined for
self-denial. In the midst of the uproar, from out the chaotic mass of
rainbow-colored costumes, there forms a little knot of mollahs in huge
snowy turbans and flowing gowns of solid blue or green, and at their head
the gray-bearded patriarchal-looking old khan of the village in his
flowered robe of office from the governor. These gay-looking, but
comparatively sober-sided representatives of the village, endeavor to
have the crowd cease their clamorous importunities--an attempt,
however, that results in signal failure--and they constitute
themselves a delegation to approach me in a respectful and decorous
manner, and ask me to ride for the satisfaction of themselves and the
people.

The profound salaams and good taste of these eminently respectable
personages are not to be resisted, and after satisfying them, the khan
promises to provide me with supper, which at a later hour turns up in the
form of the inevitable dish of pillau.

Two miles on the road next morning and it begins raining; at five miles
it develops into