upies the
field in the person of a Tabreez Turkish luti with a performing rib-nosed
mandril and a drum. Now and then, when the crowd with no money to spend
becomes too clamorous about the doorway, the luti goes to the assistance
of the guards, and giving the mandril the length of his chain, chases the
people away.

These wandering troubadours and their performing monkeys are common
enough all over Persia, and one often meets them on the road or in the
villages; but the bicycle is quite a different thing, and the
enterprising Tchan-jees do a roaring business all the evening with
customers pouring in to see it and me. The bicycle, the luti, and the
mandril occupy the back part of the large room, where several lamps and
farnooses envelop this attractive and drawing combination with a garish
and stagy glow, so that they can be seen to advantage by the throngs of
eager visitors. My own place, as the lion of the occasion, is happily in
the vicinity of the samovar, where liberal-minded customers can treat me
to cigarettes and tea.

Ridiculous as is my position in the tchai-khan, it is, of course,
infinitely superior in point of comfort and freedom from annoyance, to my
exposed quarters over at the caravanserai. The luti sings doubtful love
songs to the accompaniment of finger-strumming on the drum, and the
mandril now and then condescends to stand on its head, grunt loudly in
response to questions, spin round and round like a dancing dervish, and
otherwise give proof of his intelligence and accomplishments. Its long
hair is shorn from the lower portion of its body, but its head and
shoulders are covered with a wealth of silvery-grayish hair that overlaps
the nakedness of its body and gives it the grotesque appearance of
wearing a tippet. The animal's temper is anything but sweet,
necessitating the habitual employment of a muzzle to prevent him from
biting. Every ten or fifteen minutes, as regular almost as the movements
of Father Time, the mandril's bottled discontent at being made to perform
seems to reach the explosive point, and springing suddenly at his master,
he buries his nose viciously among his clothing in a. determined effort
to chew him up. This spasmodic rage subsides in horrible grunts of
disappointment at being unable to use his teeth, and he becomes
reasonably tractable again for another ten minutes.

The luti himself is filled with envy and covetousness at the immense
drawing powers of the bicycle; and in a