The road from Samarkand follows the direction of the road to Bokhara up to the hill whence we saw the city for the first time. The next day found us already in the desert. In truth, however, compared to the other deserts through which I had passed, it might have been more fitly denominated an extensive grassy plain or a prairie. One meets here everywhere with herdsmen, owing to the numerous wells around which nomadic Uzbegs have their tents erected. The wells are for the most part very deep, and near them are tanks forming reservoirs for water, of stone or wood, at which the cattle are watered. To avoid the fatiguing labour of drawing water from the wells with buckets which are exceedingly small, the herdsmen attach the rope of the bucket to the saddle of a mule, passing it over a pulley, making thus the mule perform the work of drawing water. Quite a picturesque scene is presented by such a well, the flocks of sheep wandering or resting near it with their serious shepherds, and I was forcibly reminded by it of similar sights in the Lowlands of Hungary. On the second day after our departure we met a caravan coming from Karshi, near one of the wells. One of this caravan, a young woman who had been sold by her husband to an old Tadjik, and had discovered the infamous transaction after she reached the desert, was tearing her hair, bitterly wailing and crying, and upon catching sight of me she frantically rushed up to where I stood and exclaimed: "My hadji, thou hast read books: where is it written that a Mussulman may sell his wife, the mother of his children?" In vain I told the Tadjik that to do so was to commit a grievous sin, he only composedly smiled; the judge at Karshi apparently not having shared my views, the buyer felt quite sure as to the validity of the bargain.

We proceeded but slowly owing to the excessive heat, and it took two days and three nights to reach Karshi. Nakhsheb was the ancient name of Karshi, and as a city it ranks second in the Khanate of Bokhara in extent and commercial importance. I went in search of an Uzbeg by the name of Ishan Hassan, to whom my friends had given me a letter of introduction. I found him and was very cordially received by him. He advised me to buy an ass, cattle being very cheap in Karshi, and to purchase with my remaining money knives, needles, thread, glass beads, Bokhara-made pocket-handkerchiefs, and particularly carnelians brought here from India, and to trade with these articles amongst the nomadic people we should meet along our road. All the hadjis do the same thing. In exchange for a needle or a couple of glass beads you get bread and melons enough to last a whole day. I saw that the good man was right, and went on the very same day with the Kungrat mollah to make the intended purchases. One half of my khurdjin was full of my manuscripts, mostly of literary and historical contents, which I bought in the bazaar of Bokhara; the other half was used by me as a storehouse for my wares, and thus I became at once an antiquarian, a dealer in fashionable articles, a hadji and a mollah, deriving an additional source of income from the sale of benedictions, nefesses, amulets, and similar wonderful articles.

After a stay of three days I left, in company of the mollah Ishak and two other hadjis, for Kerki, about fifty-six miles distant from Karshi. After three days' travelling we reached the Oxus in the morning, at a place where there was a small fort on our side of the shore, and on the opposite side on a steep height the frontier fort surrounded by the small town of Kerki. The Oxus flowing between the two forts is here nearly twice the width of the Danube near Budapest, but owing to its rapid current, which drove us considerably out of our course, it took us fully three hours to cross over. TAKEN FOR A RUNAWAY SLAVE.The boatmen were very clever, and would not accept anything of us for ferrying us over. But scarcely had we placed our feet on the shore when the deryabeghi (the river officer) of the governor of Kerki stopped us, accusing us of being runaway slaves intending to return to Persia, and compelling us to follow him immediately with all our luggage and things to the castle of the governor. My surprise and terror may be easily imagined. Three of my companions whose speech and features at once betrayed their origin were allowed to go free before long. I did not fare quite so well; things would not pass off so smoothly with me, they making all kinds of objections; but finally I flew into a rage, and exchanging the Turco-Tartar dialect I had been using for that of Constantinople, I emphatically insisted either upon having my passport shown to the Bi (governor) at once, or upon being taken into his presence.

At the noise I made the toptchubashi (an officer of artillery), who was of Persian origin, said something in a whisper to the deryabeghi. Then he took me aside, and telling me that he had gone several times to Stambul, from Tebriz, his native city, he knew very well persons belonging to Roum, and I might be perfectly quiet, as no harm would befall me.

Every stranger must submit to this searching investigation; for as slaves who had become free and were returning home had to pay a tax of two gold pieces at the border, there were many of them who resorted to all kinds of subterfuges and disguises to steal unrecognized over the frontiers. The servant who had taken my passport to the governor soon returned, not only bringing back with him my papers, but a present of five tenghis which the governor had sent me.

I was very sorry to learn that Mollah Zeman, the chief of the caravan going from Bokhara to Herat, was not expected to make his appearance before the lapse of eight or ten days. I consequently left in company of Mollah Ishak to go amongst the Ersari-Turkomans living in the neighbourhood. Here I entered once the house of Khalfa Niyaz, an ishan who had inherited sanctity, science, and authority from his father. He had a cloister of his own, and had obtained a special license from Mecca to recite sacred poems. In reading, he always had a cup filled with water placed by his side, and would spit into the water whenever he had finished reading a poem. The saliva thus permeated by the sanctity of the words he would then sell as a miraculous panacea to the highest bidder.

As we had an abundance of leisure, my faithful mollah and I, we visited the Lebab-Turkomans (viz., Turkomans on the bank). We were given quarters in the yard of an abandoned mosque. In the evening hours the Turkomans would bring with them one of their poetical tales, or a poem out of their collections of songs, and I was in the habit of reading it out aloud to them. It was delightful to have them sitting around me in the stilly night within view of the Oxus rolling onward, they listening to me with rapt attention while I read about the brave feats of one of their heroes.

A SCORPION BITE.One evening the reading had lasted as late as midnight. I was quite fagged out, and, forgetting to heed the advice I had been frequently given not to lie down near a building in ruins, I stretched my weary limbs close to a wall and very soon fell asleep. I might have slept for an hour when I was suddenly roused by a painful sensation. I jumped up screaming; I thought a hundred poisoned needles had run into my leg. The spot from which the pain proceeded was a small point near the big toe of my right foot. My cries roused an old Turkoman, lying nearest to me, who, without asking any questions, immediately broke out in the following comforting apostrophe: "Unhappy hadji! thou wast bitten by a scorpion, and that at the unlucky season of the saratan (canicular or dog days). God have mercy on thee!" Saying these words he seized my foot, and tightly swathing my foot so as almost to sever it from the heel, he immediately applied his mouth to the wounded spot, and began to suck at it with such a violence that I felt it passing through my whole body. Another soon took his place, and re-swathing my foot twice they left me to my fate, with the sorry comfort that it would be decided before next morning's prayers whether it would please Allah to free me from my pain or from the vanities of this world. Although I was quite stupefied with being thrown about, and the burning and stinging pain which kept on increasing in intensity, my memory still reverted in a dull, mechanical way to a recollection of the act that the scorpions of Belkh were known in ancient times for their venomous nature. My distress was rendered more intolerable by my fears, and that I had given up every hope during the many hours of suffering was proved by the circumstance that, totally unmindful of my incognito, I had broken out into such moans and plaintive exclamations as seemed to be quite outlandish to the Tartars, who, as I subsequently learned, were in the habit of bursting out into shouts of joy on an occasion of this kind. In a few seconds the pain had darted from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, rushing up and down like a stream of fire, but being confined nevertheless to my right side only. The tortures I was suffering beggar all description, and losing all further interest in life I dashed my head against the ground reckless of all consequences, and seeking relief in death. This action of suicidal violence was speedily remarked by the others, and they, taking no heed of my remonstrance, tied me securely to a tree. Thus I continued to be in a prostrate, half-fainting condition for several hours, staring fixedly at the starry vault above me, whilst the cold sweat of agony was gathering in heavy drops on my forehead. The Pleiades were slowly moving towards the west, the beloved West, which I despaired of ever seeing again. SAVED BY PRAYERS.Being perfectly conscious I looked forward to the hour of prayer with its sounds of devotion, or rather to the dawn of day. Meanwhile gentle sleep stole over me, sealing my burning eyelids, but I was soon roused from my beneficent slumbers by the monotonous: "La Illah, il Allah!"

When I awoke and began to arrange my ideas I thought I felt a slight cessation of the pain. The burning and stinging sensation grew less and less violent, and about the time that the sun had risen to the height of a lance, I could attempt to stand on my foot, although very feebly and clumsily yet. My companions assured me that the morning prayer had the effect of exorcising the devil which had crept into my body by means of the bite of the scorpion. Of course I dared not suggest any doubts as to this pious version of my cure, but was too well pleased under any circumstances to have got over this dreadful night, the horrors of which will be ever present in my memory.

After having waited for many weary days for the arrival of the caravan from Herat we were at length informed that the looked-for event was near at hand. I immediately hastened to Kerki, in the hope of starting at once. But my hopes in this direction were doomed to disappointment. There were about forty freed slaves from Persia and Herat in the caravan of Mollah Zeman, who were now on their way home under his dearly-paid protection. In journeying alone these poor freedmen run the risk of being pounced upon and sold into slavery again. These former slaves returning home must pay toll here, and this gave occasion to a great deal of noisy demonstration, the kervanbashi having stated the number of slaves at a lower figure than was warranted by the actual facts, whilst the officer of customs claimed toll for others not slaves, setting down every person who was not known to him to be free as a slave, and demanding toll for him. And as neither of them would yield, but stood up in defence of their respective allegations, the hubbub and anger seemed to be in a fair way of never subsiding. It took the entire day to examine the goods, the men, the camels, and the asses. We left at last, not, however, without the escort of the officer of the customs, who kept a vigilant eye upon the caravan lest some straggling travellers might join it at some by-path. He did not leave us until we had crossed the frontiers of Bokhara, and had proceeded on our journey through the desert.

At the first station I gathered that there were a great number of people, besides myself, in the caravan who were longing to set their eyes on the southernmost border of Central Asia. REDEMPTION OF SLAVES.The freedmen appeared to seek our company by preference, that is, the company of the hadjis, and by their joining us I had occasion to hear of truly affecting instances of the misery of some. Near me was sitting a grayheaded old man who had just ransomed his son, aged thirty, in Bokhara, and was taking him back to the arms of a young wife and infants. He had to purchase his son's freedom by sacrificing all he had, the ransom amounting to fifty gold pieces. "I shall rather bear poverty," he said, "than see my son in chains." His home was in Khaf, in Eastern Persia. Not far from me there was lying a muscular man, whose hair had turned gray with mental agony. A few years ago the Turkomans had carried away into slavery his wife, his sister, and six children. For a whole year he had wearily to drag his steps through Khiva and Bokhara before he could find a trace of them. When he had succeeded in tracking them a heavy blow was in store for him. His wife and the two smallest of the children as well as his sister had perished from the hardships of slavery, and of the four remaining children he could purchase the freedom of only the two younger ones; the two elder ones, girls, who had blossomed into beautiful lasses, being rated too high and above the amount of ransom he could afford to pay. There was a group of an aged woman and a young man that attracted our attention. They were mother and son, he a young man from Herat, and she fifty years old. He had purchased the liberty of his mother. Two years before, as she was travelling in the company of her husband and eldest son, they were attacked and made prisoners. Her husband and son were massacred before her eyes, and she was sold into slavery at Bokhara for twenty gold pieces. When her younger son found her and offered to ransom her, they doubled the amount as soon as they recognized him as a son, rapaciously speculating in his filial affection. Let me mention the case of another unfortunate man who had been sold into slavery about eight years previously, and was ransomed after about six years of slavery by his father. On their way home when but a few hours' march from their native town, both father and son were fallen upon by Turkomans, who immediately carried them to Bokhara to be sold. Now they had both regained their freedom and were returning home.

We were following a southern course, through an interminable level plain destitute of vegetation with the exception of a species of thistle, growing sparsely, which furnishes a sweet morsel for the camel. It is rather wonderful how these animals will pull off with their tongues and swallow a plant the mere touch of which is apt to wound the most callous hand.

At Maimene, the caravan camping outside the town, I put up at the tekkie (convent) of one Ishan Eyub, to whom I had been given a letter of introduction by Hadji Salih. The following day I set up my shop at the corner of a street. My stock of wares, however, was quite reduced owing to the fact that I had not replenished it since the first purchases I had made. One of my companions came up to me and said in a tone of warning and compassion: "Hadji Reshid, half of thy knives, needles, and glass beads, thou hast already eaten up, the other half, together with thy ear, will follow in a short time; what will then become of thee?" The man was perfectly right, but what was I to do? My future caused me many an anxious thought, the Persian border being far away, with winter approaching. I comforted myself very soon, however, with the remembrance of my former experiences amongst the Uzbegs, whom I knew never to allow a hadji or a beggar to leave their door empty-handed. I was sure of bread and fruit, and, now and then, even of a gift of some piece of clothing; and with these I hoped to be able to get on in my journey.

No difficulties about the tolls retained us at Maimene, but the kervanbashi and more prominent merchants of our caravan put off their departure on account of their own private affairs. They wished to attend two or three horse fairs at least, the prices of these animals being very low here. The horses are brought to the fair by the Uzbegs and Turkomans of the environs, and are carried from here to Herat, Kandahar, Kabul, and often to India. Horses which I saw sold in Persia for thirty to forty gold pieces apiece, could be bought here at one hundred to one hundred and sixty tenghis (a tenghi being about ninepence).

EXORBITANT TOLLS.Our road now lay continuously through mountainous regions. Upon reaching the border of Maimene, we were confronted again by a Yuzbashi, performing the office of frontier's guard, who levied upon us an additional toll under the title of whip money, this being the third toll we had to pay within the Khanate of Maimene. A merchant from Herat to whom I complained about this extortion, observed to me: "Thank God we are called upon to pay toll only. In former days travelling in these parts was most dangerous, for the Khan himself was plundering the caravans."

A troop of Djemshidis who were sent by the Khan from Bala Murgab, for our protection against predatory tribes through whose territories we were to pass, joined us at the frontier, forming our escort. I was informed that our caravan had not been exposed to such imminent danger as awaited them here during the whole journey from Bokhara. We kept our eyes open, carefully glancing to the right and left, and cautiously surveying every little hill we passed. Thus we journeyed on in the greatest suspense, but it was in all probability owing to the size of the caravan and its watchfulness that we escaped being attacked.

At the time the caravan left Herat for Bokhara it was spring, and Herat was then besieged by the Afghans under Dost Mohammed. Six months had passed since the news of the capture of the city; its pillage and destruction had reached us long ago, and the intense longing of those of our caravan who were from Herat to see again their families, friends, and houses may therefore be easily imagined. We were, nevertheless, made to wait a whole day at Kerrukh, one of the border villages of Herat, until the officer of the Customs, who had come already upon us in the morning, had, in the overbearing and supercilious manner peculiar to the Afghans, finished making up, with a great deal of ado, an extensive list of every traveller, animal, and each piece of goods we had with us. I had imagined Afghanistan to be a country with somewhat of a regular administration; nay, I had fondly hoped that my sufferings would terminate here, and that I might dispense henceforth with the assumption of the character of a dervish. Alas! I was sadly mistaken. Nowhere had we been treated in such a brutal manner as we were treated here by the Afghan Customs collectors. We had to pay duty on the very clothes we wore, with the exception of the shirt. On my ass I had to pay a duty of six krans, and he who was not able to pay had simply all his things confiscated.

Towards evening, when the plundering was over, the governor of Kerrukh, who has the rank of a major, made his appearance in order that he might examine us. At me he took a good long look, evidently being struck by my foreign features, and immediately summoned the kervanbashi to make some whispered inquiries about me. He then called me to come near him, made me sit down, and treated me with marked politeness. Whilst talking with me he studiously turned the conversation on Bokhara, smiling always in a mysterious way as he did so. But I remained faithful to the part I had assumed. On taking leave he wanted to shake hands with me in the English fashion, but I anticipated the motion of his hand by raising mine as if in the act of bestowing a fatiha upon him, whereupon he left me with a laugh. We were finally allowed to leave Kerrukh, and entered Herat on the following morning after a toilsome journey of six weeks.