y, does the
agreeable with tea and kalians, and provides substantial refreshments.
The soothing Shi-razi tobacco provided with his kalians, and the
excellent quality of his tea, provoke me to make comparison between them
and the wretched productions of Afghanistan. Abdurrahzaak laughs
good-humoredly at my remark, and replies, "Mashallah! there is nothing
good in Afghanistan." He isn't far from right; and the English officer
who named the products of Afghanistan as "stones and fighting men" came
equally near the truth.

Fair roads prevail for some distance after leaving Torbet-i-Sheikh Jahm;
a halt is made at an Eliaute camp to refresh myself with a bowl of doke.
A picturesque dervish emerges from one of the tents and presents his
alms-receiver, with "huk yah huk." Both man and voice seem familiar, and
after a moment I recognize him as a familiar figure upon the streets of
Teheran last winter. He says he is going to Cabool and Kandahar. A unique
feature of his makeup is a staff with a bayonet fixed on the end, in
place of the usual club or battle-axe.

The night is spent in an Eliaute camp; nummuds seem scarce articles with
them, and I spend a cold and uncomfortable night, scarcely sleeping a
wink. The camp is not far from the village of Mahmoudabad, and a rowdy
gang of ryots come over to camp in the middle of the night, having heard
of my arrival.

From Mahmoudabad the road follows up a narrow valley with a range of
hills running parallel on either hand. The southern range are quite
respectable mountains, with lingering patches of snow, and--can it
be possible!--even a few scattering pines. Pines, and, for that
matter, trees of any kind, are so scarce in this country that one can
hardly believe the evidence of his own eyes when he sees them.

On past the village of Karizeno my road leads, passing through a hard,
gravelly country, the surface generally affording fair riding except for
a narrow belt of sand-hills. At Karizeno, a glimpse is obtained of our
old acquaintances the Elburz Mountains, near Shah-riffabad. They are
observed to be somewhat snow-crowned still, though to a measurably less
extent than they were when we last viewed them on the road to Torbeti.

The approach of evening brings my day's ride to a close at Furriman, a
village of considerable size, partially protected by a wall and moat,
Stared at by the assembled population, and enduring their eager gabble
all the evening, and then a nummud on the roo