J THE MEEY OASIS VOL. L Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2016 https://archive.org/details/mervoasistravels01odon_0 THE MEEY OASIS TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES EAST OF THE CASPIAN DURING THE YEARS 1879-80-81 INCLUDING FIVE MONTHS’ RESIDENCE AMONG THE TEKKES OF MERV BY EDMOND O’DONOVAN SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT OF THE ‘DAILY NEWS * SMitlj portrait, paps, Hitfr facsimiles of jlowments IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. I. NEW YORK G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS 27 and 29 West 23d Street 1883. TO J. R. ROBINSON, ESQ. of the 1 Daily News * WITHOUT WHOSE SUGGESTION THE TRAVELS NARRATED IN THESE VOLUMES WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN UNDERTAKEN, AND BUT FOR WHOSE GENEROUS SUPPORT THEY WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN BROUGHT TO A SUCCESSFUL ISSUE & jjis ®ork is gebitattb BY HIS OBLIGED FRIEND THE AUTHOR PREFACE. These pages contain a simple record of my wander- ings around and beyond the Caspian, including a five months’ residence at Merv, during the three years 1879-1881. I had at first purposed confining my narrative to Merv itself and its immediate surround- ings ; but my friends suggested that it would in such case be too circumscribed in scope, and not fully ap- preciable by those who had not previously paid con- siderable attention to Central Asian matters. Accord- ingly, I have related my experiences of the Eussian settlements on the Eastern Caspian littoral, and touched very slightly upon the military operations directed against the Akhal Tekke tribes and their stronghold at Geok Tepe. I have also entered into the border relations existing between Russians, Tur- comans, and Persians, in order that the subsequent description of the attitude of the Merv Turcomans might be the better understood. The main interest of the book, however, centres in that portion of it which relates to Merv itself ; and in narrating what I PREFACE. viii have to say about that place and its people, I have, as far as possible, sought to confine myself to what I actually saw and heard among them. All information contained in these volumes relative to the oasis and its population is derived directly from the fountain-head ; and I have carefully abstained from quoting the recol- lections and opinions of other writers. Apart from pure narrative, the reader will occasionally meet with some expressions of opinion as to future political pos- sibilities, and an appreciation of the present and coming military situation. The Oriental documents added in the Appendix will serve as examples of the caligraphy and epi- stolary style of the country, and will at the same time show the nature of the aspirations and ideas of the chiefs, as well as the estimation in which I was myself held when I quitted their territory. The general map is based upon that published, in con- nection with the report of his travels in North- Eastern Khorassan, by Lieutenant-Colonel C. E. Stewart. On this I have grafted my own correc- tions, and my surveys pf the territory lying eastward of the point at which his travels in the Attok ceased, viz. near Abiverd. The plan of the Merv oasis and its water system is purely original, and, as far as I am aware, the first ever based on an actual survey. Of the plan showing the old cities and their relative positions the same is to be said. PREFA CE. IX I have on every possible occasion introduced illustrative anecdote and personal adventure, not only to lighten the general narrative, but also as the best possible method of conveying to my readers the nature of the surroundings amidst which I was placed, and the character of the people with whom I had to deal ; but the space allotted to me for the description of three years’ experiences scarcely allows me the latitude I could have desired in this regard. Still, as a record of the almost unique circumstances in which I was placed, I trust that the following pages will meet with the indulgence, if not with the approval, of the reading public. E. O’D. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. CHAPTER I. FROM TREBIZOKD TO THE CASPIAN. PAGE Trebizond to Batoum — Poti — Delays in landing — Rion river — Turcoman pilgrims — Railroad — Tiflis — Life in Tiflis — Travelling by troika — De- scription of vehicle — Easterly plains — Camel trains — Wild pigeons — Post-houses — Samovar and tea-drinking — ‘ Across country ’ — Troglo- dytic dwellings — Wild cats and boars — Fevers — Tartar thieves — Tartar ladies — Old Persian fortifications — Elizabethpol — Hotel there — Limited accommodation — Table-d'hote — Caviare — Prince Chavcha- vaza — News of Trans-Caspian Expedition — General Lazareff — His history — Armenian villages — Salt incrustations — Automatic raft over Kur — Abandoned Camels — Tartar funeral — Tartar tombstones — Cir- cassian horse-trappings — Waggons from Baku — Crossing the moun- tains — Red-legged partridges — Field mice and ferrets — Shumakha — Xorezsafen — Obstinate driver — First sight of Baku and the Caspian — Tartar carts — Burden-bearing bullocks — Petroleum well-houses of Balahane and Sulahane — Tying up troika bells CHAPTER II. BAKU. Baku — Apscheron promontory — Country round Baku — Armenian emi- grants from Turkish territory — Russian town — Old Baku — Aneisot Tartar town — Old f orti fications — Citadel — Bazaars — Mosques— * Palace of Tartar Khans — Caspian steamers — Municipal garden — Mixed population — Bazaar held in aid of victims of Orenburg fire — CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. National costumes and types — Nature of population — Banished Christian sects — Malakani and Scopts — Mercurius Company — Rus- sian girls’ dress — Origin of name of Baku — Bituminous dust — Laying it with astatki — Boring for petroleum — Distilling and purifying — Utilization of refuse for steamers — Probable adaptation to railroads — Island of Tcheliken — Fire temple — Guebre fire-worship . . .26 CHAPTER III. ACROSS THE CASPIAN TO TCHIKISLAR AND CHATTE. Interview with Lazareff — Voyage to Tchikislar — Reception by Turco- mans — Their Costume and Dwellings — Fort of Tchikislar — Presents to Yamud chiefs — Akhal Tekke prisoners — Journey to Chatte — Russian discipline — Rain pools and mirage — Wild asses and ante- lopes — Fort of Chatte — Atterek and Sumbar rivers — Banks of the Atterek — Diary of Journey — Bouyun Bache — Delilli — Bait Hadji — Yagbli Olum — Tekindji — Review of Lazareff’s regiment — Flies at Chatte — Tile pavements — Remnants of old civilization . . .40 CHAPTER IY. KRASNAVODSK. Lazareff’s opinion about Tchikislar — Difficulties of traversing desert — Chasing wild asses and antelopes — * Drumhead ’ dinner — A Khivan dandy — Desert not a sandy one — On board ‘Nasr Eddin Shah’ corvette — En route for Krasnavodsk — Gastronomic halt — Zakouska — Russian meal — Arrival at Krasnavodsk — Description of place — Dis- tillation of sea-water — Club — Caspian flotilla — Lieutenant Sideroflf — An ex-pirate — Trans-Caspian cable — Avowed object of Akhal Tekk6 expedition — Colonel Malama’s explanation — A Trans-Caspian ball — Khirgese chiefs — Caucasian horsemen — Military sports — Lesghian dancing . 60 CHAPTER Y. KARA-BOGHAZ SULPHUR DISTRICT. Gypsum rocks — OH jar — Natural paraffin — Post of Ghoui-Bournak — Camelthorn and chiratan — Large lizards — Ghoui-Sulmen — Nummu- litic limestone — Salty water — Method of drawing it up — Effect of washing — Turcoman smoking — Waiting for dawn — Shores of Kara- Boghaz — Searching for sulphur — Black and red lava — Kukurt-Daghi — Ghoui-Kabyl — Argillaceous sand — Turcoman and Khirgese horses — An alarm and retreat — Back to Bournak 76 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. xiii CHAPTER V I. A TURKOMAN RAID — A VISIT TO TCHIKISLAR. PAGE Turcomans in view — Preparing to attack — In a predicament — Retiring on Krasnavodsk — General panic — Lomakin’s advance — Result of skirmish — Russian military funeral — A trip to Tchikislar — Island of Tcheliken — Demavend — Ak-Batlaouk volcano — Difficulty of land- ing — Description of camp — Flies — Turcoman prisoner — Release of captive Persian women — Water snakes — Stormy voyage to Baku — Conversation with Lazareff — Russian recruits — Prince Wittgenstein — Cossack lieutenant’s story — Off to Tchikislar 87 CHAPTER VII. TCHIKISLAR SKETCHES — ATTEREK DELTA. Khirgese and Turcomans at Tchikislar — Cossack and Caucasian horse- men — Peculiar customs with regard to dress — Samad Agha — The Shah’s cousin — Hussein Bey and Kars — Nefess Merquem — Turco- mans in Russian service — Camp police — Tailless camels — The knout — Baghdad muleteers — Decorating soldiers — Camp customs — Soldiers’ games — Races — Tchikislar bazaar — Night alarm — The pig and the pipe — Military ideas about Asterabad — Turcoman graves — Bouyun Bache — Foul water — Smoking out the flies — Horse flies — Sefid Mahee — Abundance of fish — Running down partridges — Waterfowl and eels — Wild boar hunting — Atterek delta — Giurgen — Ak-Kala — A Turcoman and his captive wife — Lazareff’s decision . . .103 CHAPTER VIII. HASSAN-KOULI — DEATH OF LAZAREFF. Hassan-Kouli lagoon — Incursions of sea-water — Old piratical station — Buried melons — Turcoman cemetery — Subsidence of graves — Ioyun- vuskha — Courtesy of the desert — Turcoman character — Battle tombs — Turco-Celtic derivations — Open-air mosques — An ex-corsair — Bad treatment of an envoy — A Turcoman interior — A native dinner — Polite attentions — Armenian fishing-station — Deserted Camel — Thirsty sheep — Khirgese and Turcomans — Dysentery at Tchikislar — Lazareff’s illness and death — A burial at sea — A stormy voyage — General Tergukasoff — Back to Tchikislar and Chatte — Rainpools in the desert — Failing camels — Commissariat errors — Water-pits . . 123 xiv CONTENTS OF the FIRST volume. pagb 143 CHAPTER IX. country — -Nomad shepherds-Gokl. P r eed-fields-Tame and " ato-Krd's-eyev.. g^J^e-Ak-Kala-Mtonn- tld ducks — The Kial - Ala f n '^L 0 dogsXc r ossin g the Giurgen- tokmok-An adventure wtk * ' , te jungle-Kara-Su- Attnbai Village <* «!!! . Arrival at Asterabad Shan A CHAPTER X. ASTEEABAD. . qViflh Abass’ causeway awtof ». 7’- Percussion gunlocks-Felt ™™ f ‘f U g car< , ity o{ gra in in Mazanderan teUer— -Turcomans and an dGhilan-Turcomansand _ Ename lled tiles-R^am Pprciian mourning— Old Jx j * d spoliation— ^Lue cn an d theDiv Sefld-Bussian teUgrp ^ examples -WilA boars an maniacs '—Rept J at British Cons^e-R g^SSSSSs- CHAPTER XI. 00MC8H tep 4 -a peesiam miutakt camp. from ASTEEABAD TO G _p ers ian fortified viUages- • and Turcomans— Mutual opinio cultivation— Possibili- Cle- Depredations of wild b °^'*£_p ers ian entrenched camp ti” 8 of irrigation-^o^ bridg6 _Xnferior of A* I-”-?;J^erstion of Mustapha ment and uniforms Khan and h is Mirza-Camp ^ Description of for ;cian _Medi*val ideas A Kha n— PositioTof Australia Afghan J^_ Iotet6m iel zone- ^ i-^r^i^out Geok Tep^n ^ river— Arrival" td Gumush Tepfi • • • CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. xv CHAPTER XII. GUMUSH TEPA PAGE Maritime Turcomans — Luggers — Dug-out canoes — Permanent Turcoman settlements — Gumush Tep6 mound — Old town of Khorsib — Kizil Alan — Old earth mounds — Alexander’s wall — Former palm groves — Geldi Khan — Turcoman interior — Female costume — Children’s silver-mounted caps — Turcoman toilet — Occupations and dietary of Turcomans — Tea drinking — Economy of sugar — Absence of animal food — Fuel — Astatki lamps — Tcheliken salt — Yaghourt — Visit to Tchikislar — Salt plains — A rebuff — Every-day life at Gumush Tep6 — Makeshifts against rain — The tenkis — Precautions against storm — A rush for water 202 CHAPTER XIII LIFE IN THE KIB1TKAS. Savage dogs — Vamb^ry’s house — Turcoman want of ideas about time — Smoke — Sore eyes — Conversation — Patients — Visiting formalities — Turcoman hospitality — Karakchi thieves — Physical types of Yamuds — A Turcoman belle — Nursing children — Tekk6 bugbears — Plurality of wives — A domestic quarrel and its consequences . . . .221 CHAPTER XIV. SKETCHES OF GUMUSH TEpA College at Gumush Tepe — Professor of theology — Late school hours — Sunni and Shiia — Specimen of sectarian hatred — The white fowl mystery — Fever — Hurried burials — Mourning rites — Returning hadjis — Distinctive marks — Trade and commerce — Tanning sheep- skins — Pomegranate bark — Kusgun and yapundja — Krans and tomans — Disputes about money — Turcoman measures — Recreations — The Turcomans and ‘ Punch ’ — Agha Jik’s ideas — After nightfall . 237 CHAPTER XV. GUMUSH TEPE TO ASTERABAD. General Mouravieff — Night scene on the Giurgen — Embarking for Tchi- kislar — Wild Fowl — Fishing stations — At sea — Wading ashore — Moullah Dourdi — The Grand Hotel — Colonel Malama — Discussion about the frontier — Timour Beg — Banished again — Back to Gumush XVI STENTS OF THS F.FST VOLUME. • . - ) PAGE The plains under snow Kl 0 od Turcomans camping A -n T ra g f „" amel in a difficulty-SwoUen improvised vehicle ^^^^jportoises Luxuriant grass growth streams-Large r “ dd jungle-Wild boars . • • Suspected Turcomans iVLuaay j 254 CHAPTER XVI. bound the plains by ak-kala. A troublesome servaut-Mehem^ ^escort — Cattle scenting 0 “°°^ Giurgen-Moderu **-*•»£ Bridge over Kara-Su niprvmen and sharpshooters Kadfar fa mily-Persiao the ramparts-Finog a a v^,w__Turcoman medressces humorous moullah— V erse Turcoman — Persian military the Giurgen-Camels L a amantelpiece-Par.uganepsde--B Shal,-Ph ea- shedding winter coats— Triple „_ LoBt in the reed brakes eantsand^artndg^— A^^u^gr^ ^ r ^ n ^^^^^^ure-^usaian threats — Saddling for misund e rs tanding-WBd “ x > movement Putrescent fishA ™ h C attle-Lunch with imars and jackals— PasM-gonl^^^^^,.^ >t Asterabad News of ^ the nomads— Victims to Teheran decided on . Skobeleff — Hr. Zwovieff Journey CHAPTER XVII. astebabad to enzeli. Environs ^^r^ey— My^^^iBn^^o^^^ons— Jnngle quake shock— Plan oi j ds __ Fores t growth- -W p __ Ke nar j Dengolan — Sleeping Stuck in a quagmire *rS££r — ^^ed-bS^^VaYal^^ ®®a”^^alf s^nna^n t ^ egftre ^ tc y 1 » mail Persian launches . steamer— Astatki ship furnace . . 294 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. xvi 1 CHAPTER XVIII. ENZELI to resht. Landing at Enzeli — The Shah’s yacht — A naval salute — Persian flag on the Caspian — Armenian traders — Articles of export — Dried fish — Shah’s lodge— Across the Moradab— A tattered sail— Piri-Bazaar river Fishing weir — Road to Resht — Former dread of Russians — Tilimbars — Pebrine and flacheric diseases — Tobacco versus silk — Resht — Novel mode of torture — Retribution 310 CHAPTER XIX. RESHT TO TEHERAN. Posting in Persia — Sefid-Rood — Mountain roads — Rustamabad — Olive groves— Rood Bar— Mengil— Travelling in the dark— Stormy glen — Marc Antony and the snakes — Shah Rood — Corpse caravan — Starved post-horses — Pood Chenar — A deserted post-house — Kurd encampment —Pass of Kharzon— Kurds on the march— Funeral rites— Imam Zade — Masrah — The garrib-gez — Miana — A Persian remedy — An appeal to the Shah— Fortified villages— Kanots— Kasvin— Persian tombstones— Hotel — Enamelled tiles — A good postmaster — A contrast — A break- down — Good ponies — Mounds and villages — Count de Monteforte — Approaching Teheran — Gates and fortifications . . . . .319 CHAPTER XX. TEHERAN. Defences of Teheran— General aspect of town— Groves and gardens— British Legation— Boulevards— Gas lamps— Electric light— Cannon square — Gun from Delhi — Shah’s palace — Newly organised regiments —Uniform— Arms— Austrian officers— Captain Standeisky— Gymnas- tics— Care of arms — Captain Wagner and the artillery — Persian Cossacks— Colonel Demontovitch — Visit to cavalry barracks Old soldiers v. new— Baron Reuter’s contract — Shah’s red umbrella— Royal cavalcade — Shah’s carriage — Ladies of the Harem — ‘Be blind, be blind ! ’—Novel military salute— Departure of Austrian officers— Rumoured advent of Russian organisers .... CHAPTER XXI. / teheran ( continued ). The bazaar— Persian yashmak— Constantinople police edict— The town as it is— The Shah visiting his First Minister— A long wait— Police The cortege— Shah’s running footmen— Apes and baboons— Scattering vol. i. a xviii CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. PAGE flowers — Hopes for the future — A Persian saying — Conceited Persian officer — An explanation — A visit to the Eussian Minister — SkobelefTs telegram — ‘ Au revoir a Merv * — Interview with the Sipah Salar Aazara — A diplomatic conversation — Kusso-Persian frontier — Why I changed sides — Dr. Tholozan — The military situation — An unpleasant pro- spect 350 CHAPTER XXII. TEHERAN TO AGHIYAN. Preparing for a journey — Mr. Arnold’s servant — Posting in Persia — ‘ Towers cf Silence ’ — Evan Keif — Old police-stations — Kishlak — Mud architecture — Shab-gez — A tough fowl — Gratuities — Outlying tele- graph station — Deep-cut stream beds — Irrigation — Fortified mounds — An old palace — Persian graves — Gathering the harvest — A useful custom — Benevolent lying — Deh Memek — Towers of refuge — Terrace irrigation — Castled mound of Lasgird — Lugubrious quarters — Pursued by the mail — An adventure with Afghans — A precipitate flight — Sem- nan — Extensive cemeteries — A quick ride to Aghivan . . . 365 CHAPTER XXIII. SHAHROOD. Caravanserais — Villages and their fortifications — Kanots and tanks — Absence of palm, orange, and olive trees — Minars — Deh Mullah — Crossed by the post — Persian postmaster — A storm on the plain — Shahrood — Derivation of name — Armenian traders — Bitten by the garrib-gez — Various cures — Disputes about sluices — Monthly pilgrim caravans — Dervishes — Military escort — Bokharan pilgrims— Change of plans 382 CHAPTER XXIY. A PILGRIM CARAVAN. Leaving Shahrood — Beset by mendicants — ‘ Where is the thob ? ’ — Star- light march — Novel mode of sleeping — Warlike appearance of caravan — Maiamid — Itinerant butchers — Eeligious drama — Persian dervishes — Waiting for the escort — An Eastern row — Besieged in a chappar hane — ‘ By your beard, Emir ’ — A present from the Governor — Eeligious buffoonery — Moullahs and dervishes — A weird procession — Mule bells — Our piece of artillery — A dangerous pass — A panic — Eeturning pilgrims — A halt 400 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. xix CHAPTER XXY. MIANDASHT — SABZAVAR. PAGE Caravanserai scenes — Travellers’ lodgings — Persian architecture — The midday siesta — Departure of a caravan — The road to Sabzavar — Strategical positions — Abasabad — Persian coinage — Sadrabad — A ruined country — Abandoned irrigation works — The Kal Mura river — An ancient bridge — Mazinan — Minars and Mosques — A decayed town — Sabzavar — Commercial relations with France — Ice manufacture — Travellers’ annoyances — Flies and scorpions — Parting from the pil- grims — Begging on the road — Persians and Turcomans — An official reception in Persia — Oriental diplomacy — News and newspapers — The wardens of the Turcoman border — Timorous guides — A travelled Persian’s impressions of London — Patti as a cancan dancer — Start for Kuchan 41.9 CHAPTER XXY I. FROM SABZAVAR TO KUCHAN. Exhausted lands — Grapes and wine — Aliak — Reformed thieves — Writing under difficulties — Sultanabad — Antiquated farm implements — Saman fodder — Water-melons — Mineral resources — Karagul — Sympathy with Russia — Persian highwaymen — Abdullah Gau — Kuchan — The Upper Atterek — Weighing the chances — Russians and Turcomans — Anxieties — Railroad — Earthquakes — Dinner with a Persian Emir — A frontier court — Dinner-table on the frontier — Social fencing — Persian zakouska — Family etiquette — A renegade — Western luxuries — A Kurdish orgie — A young captive — Eastern immorality — Going home — Bitten by the shab-gez — Fever and delirium — A friend in need — A desperate remedy — Opium dreams — Recovery — Kuchan medical astrologers . .437 CHAPTER XXYII. MILITARY AND POLITICAL SITUATION. How news travels in the East — The Russian advance — The defence of Geok Tep6 — Night in a Persian caravanserai — Persian singing — Persian servants — Scenes on the Upper Atterek — A house-top promenade — Interview with a Turcoman envoy — The Turcoman version of the course of hostilities — Russian tactics — A Turcoman poet — Modern weapons among the Nomads — Mussulman troops in the Russian service — The Daghestan cavalry — Vambery on Russian intrigues — Shiites and Sun- nites — Peculiar mercy to co-religionists — The telegraphic service — Iron posts versus wooden poles — Turcoman auxiliaries to Russia — The effect of the Afghan war on Central Asia — Turcoman hopes of British XX CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. PAGE aid — Russian designs on India — The feeling of the Russian army — Letter to Makdum Kuli Khan — Persia and Russia — Benevolent neu- trality of the Shah’s Government — Russian courtesies to Persian officials — Understanding between Persia and Russia — Start for Meshed 466 CHAPTER XXYIII. KUCHAN TO MESHED. The Meshed road — Kurdish customs — A thievish chief — Rapacious officials — Persian building — Fruits — Pitfalls in the roads — Meshed — A mag- nificent prospect — The Grand Boulevard of Meshed — Lack of public spirit — Russian commerce — Strange nationalities — Persian attendants — Antique coins — A Persian house — Fountains and water supply — Drinks of the country — Population of Meshed — Turcoman horses . 473 CHAPTER XXIX. THE SHRINE OF IMAM RIZA. A Persian Mecca — Jealousy of Christian visitors — Interments in the sacred ground — Tombstone makers — A Persian lathe — The great mosque — Characteristic architecture — Colour in architecture — The tomb of Haroun-al-Raschid — Renegade Christians — Light and Shade effects — Wealth of a Mahomedan sanctuary — Rights of pilgrims — Mosques in decay — Minars and Irish round towers — An ancient rite — Saluting the sunset — Barbaric music — Relics of Zoroastrism — Sunnites and Shiites — The twelve holy Imams — Wine-drinking among Persians — National traditions and religion — The Mahomedan conqueror of Persia . . 488 ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE FIRST VOLUME. Portrait of the Author Frontispiece Facsimile of Russian Passport — Tiflis to Baku . . to face page 7 Ground Plans of Gumush Tepe and Part of Kizil Alan 206 M E B V CHAPTEE I. FROM TREBIZOND TO THE CASPIAN. Trebizond to Batoum — Poti— Delays in landing — Rion river — Turcoman pilgrims —Railroad — Tiflis — Life in Tiflis — Travelling by troika — De- scription of vehicle — Easterly plains — Camel trains — Wild pigeons — Post-houses — Samovar and tea-drinking — ‘ Across country ’ — Troglodytic dwellings — Wild cats and boars — Pevers — Tartar thieves — Tartar ladies — Old Persian fortifications — Elizabethpol — Hotel there — Limited accommo- dation — Table d'hote — Caviare— Prince Chavchavaza — News of Trans- Caspian Expedition — General Lazareff — His history — Armenian villages — Salt incrustations — Automatic raft over Kur — Abandoned camels — Tartar funeral — Tartar tombstones — Circassian horse-trappings — Waggons from Baku — Crossing the mountains —Red-legged partridges — Field mice and ferrets — Shumakha — Xorezsafen — Obstinate driver — First sight of Baku and the Caspian — Tartar carts — Burden-bearing bullocks — Petroleum well-houses of Balahane and Sulahane — Tying up troika bells. I left Trebizond at sunset on Wednesday, February 5, 1879, en route for Central Asia. It was my intention to travel to Central Thibet, but subsequent circumstances obliged me to alter my resolution, and directed my steps to a locality perhaps not less interesting. I started by the English steamer ‘ Principe di Carignano,’ reaching Batoum early on the morning of the 6th. I found that place wonderfully increased in size, even during the short time which had elapsed since the Eussian occupation. The number of houses had almost trebled, and, after the VOL. i. B 2 LANDING AT POTL fashion of Russia generally, the majority of these consisted of rum and vodka 1 shops. At least one barrel-organ was to be heard grinding in the streets, and, for the first time in the history of the town, public vehicles — the Russian phaeton, or gig — plied for hire. The same afternoon, the ‘ Principe di Carignano ’ continued her voyage, arriving at the mouth of the Rion river in two and a half hours. Here one became fully impressed with the necessity felt by Russia for a better naval station than Poti on the Southern Black Sea littoral. The extreme shallowness of the water obliged us to anchor at least a mile and a half from the low pebbly beach, and, owing to the violent off- shore wind which prevailed, which would neither allow us to send boats ashore, nor the usual tug steamer, employed for dis- embarking passengers, to come off, two days and a half elapsed before the slightest chance of landing occurred. Such delays, I was told, were of common occurrence. At length some of the fishing luggers ventured to put out from the river’s mouth, and brought us and our baggage ashore. Arrived within the mouth of the river, we were taken in tow by a small steamer, which tugged us a distance of two miles, finally landing us at the town of Poti itself. The river banks on either side presented a dismal aspect, such as one notices along the minor tributaries of the Mississippi. Everything seemed but lately to have been inundated. Rotting ‘ snags ’ stuck from the slimy surface of the semi-stagnant water; the lower portion of those trees which stood along the margin looked black and rotting, and a general odour of decomposing vegetable matter permeated the air. Poti is notorious for its unhealthy, feverish climate, and, considering its immediate surroundings, I am not surprised at this. As a naval station there can be no comparison between it 1 A fiery, -white spirituous liquor, largely consumed in Russia. TIFLIS RAILWAY. 3 and Batonm. The latter possesses a deep and well- sheltered, though small harbour, where the largest vessels can anchor within a few fathoms of the beach, and where they are perfectly sheltered from winds, whether off or on shore. It is true that under Turkish rule, owing to the blocking of the mouths of several minor mountain streams, swamps had formed in the neighbourhood of the town, which rendered it to a certain extent a feverish locality. Still, the smallest engineering effort would serve to remove this drawback, and I believe that at this mo- ment such effort is being made. Among my fellow- travellers who crowded the luggers were Trans-Caspian Turcomans, on whom I now laid my eyes for the first time. They were pilgrims returning from Mecca; for, notwithstanding the never-ceasing hostility between the nomads and the Russians, the former invariably adopt the route by Baku, Tiflis, Poti, and Constantinople, when going to the Sacred City, instead of the land route by Persia and Baghdad. Before we were permitted to leave the precincts of the landing station, the usual tedious examina- tion of baggage, and then of passports, had to be under- gone, and fully four hours elapsed after our landing before we were allowed to enter the town About Poti itself there is little to say. It is a rambling kind of place, largely composed of wooden shanties, and, but for its phaetons, low-crowned-hatted coachmen, and its unmis- takeable gendarmes, might pass for a town of almost any nationality. From Poti there is a railroad to Tiflis, the journey to the latter place occupying about twelve hours by ordinary train. During the first two hours, the country one traverses is indescribably dreary, rotting forest growth and stagnant overflows of the river being its main charac- teristics. Then a steep gradient is arrived at, by which the train mounts to the crest of an outlying spur of the 4 TIFLIS — PA DAROSJNA. Caucasus, whence a commanding view is obtained over the vast expanse of country lying in the direction of Tiflis. Leaving Poti late in the afternoon, oile arrives at the capital of the Trans-Caucasus early on the following morning. The first thing that strikes the eye is the semi-Asiatic, semi-European aspect of the place — the old town, with its narrow streets, its old-fashioned booths, and artisans plying their trades in full view of the public, together with Tartar head-dresses and fur-lined coats, contrasting violently with the palatial houses, wide prospects, and great open gardens, thronged with persons of both sexes, wearing the ne plus ultra of Western European fashionable attire. I was unfortunate enough to miss seeing Prince Mirski, the governor of the town, he being absent in the interior ; so, after a couple of days’ delay at the Hotel Cavcass, I prepared for my journey across the steppes which separated me from the Western Caspian border. During the two nights which I remained in Tiflis, I had ample opportunity of witnessing the remarkably ‘ fast ’ rate of living which usually obtains in better-class Bussian society. Everything seemed at fever-heat. Theatres, music-halls, and circuses were nightly thronged, and petits soupers and select dinner parties seemed the order of the day. As for myself, the thing I least liked about Tiflis was the very excessive charge made at the hotel, and I was glad when the morning for my departure arrived. We are told that up to the end of the seventeenth century in France, a traveller setting out from Lyons for Paris, in view of the state of the road, considered it his duty to draw up his last will and testament. If the roads in France at that date bore any resemblance to those I have traversed on my way from Tiflis across the Trans-Cau- casian plain, I must say the travellers were perfectly TjROIKA. 5 justified in their precautions. I had heard and read a good deal about travel in this part of the world, but my wildest anticipations fell very far short of the sad reality. When one has to do with officials in Bussia, especially those of a subordinate class, he is certain to be worried almost out of his existence by needless and seemingly endless delays before the simplest matter of business can he effected, or the inevitable official documents procured. After a good deal of trouble I succeeded in securing the all- important padarosjna (this is the nearest approach I can make to the name in our alphabet), which entitles the holder to carriages and post-horses. It is a large sheet of paper bearing the Bussian double-headed eagle, with paraphernalia, in the water-mark, and having several double-headed eagles and ornamental panels all over it. It bears many numbers of registration, and a still greater amount of signatures and counter-signatures, and is not unlike a magnified reproduction of some of the earlier American paper dollars. On the strength of this docu- ment, the people of the Hotel Cavcass undertook to find me an orthodox postal vehicle, with the due number of horses and the official conductor. The vehicle in which one ordinarily travels by post in this part of the world is termed a troika. There is a more luxurious kind of conveyance — which, to tell the truth, is not saying much for it — named a tarentasse ; but though one may pay the increased rate demanded for such a carriage, he is not always sure of finding others at the changing-places on the route, should, as is generally the case, his own come to grief. The experienced traveller generally chooses the troika , for at each station at least half a dozen are always in readiness to supply the almost inevi- table break-downs which occur from post-house to post- house. At the moment of which I speak I had never seen 6 TROIKA . either tarentasse or troika. I had a kind of preconceived idea about four fiery steeds and a fur-lined carriage, in which the traveller is whirled in luxury to his destination. Judge of my surprise when, on a raw winter’s morning, just as the grey dawn was stealing over the turrets of the old Persian fortress, I saw a nameless kind of thing drawn up before the door of the hotel. Though I had just been sum- moned from bed to take my place, I had not the slightest suspicion that the four-wheeled horror before me was even intended for my luggage, so I waited patiently for the arrival of my ideal conveyance. The hall porter and some chilly-looking waiters were standing around, impatiently awaiting a ‘ gratification,’ and evidently believing that I was all the time buried in deep political or scientific thought. I was beginning to get stiff with cold, and at length I asked, ‘ Where is this coach ? ’ ‘ Your Excellence,’ said the porter, ‘ it is there before you.’ When I shall have described a troika , no one will wonder at the exclama- tion of amazement and terror which burst from my lips at the bare idea that I had to travel four hundred miles in such a thing. Imagine a pig-trough of the roughest pos- sible construction, four feet and a half long, two and a half wide at the top, and one at the bottom, filled with coarse hay, more than half thistles, and set upon four poles, which in turn rest upon the axles of two pairs of wheels. Besides these poles, springs, even of the most rudimentary kind, there are none. Seen from the outside, the troika has the appearance of a primitive lake-habita- tion canoe, just drawn out of a mud bank; anything in the shape of washing, either for vehicles or drivers, being considered in this part of the world entirely a work of supererogation. The driver, clad in a rough sheep-skin tunic, fitting closely at the waist, the woolly side turned inwards, and > . Appendix.R. Russian passport _ Tiflis to Baku C* .con nojopoiKHon aa ■epcT py® JT KO„ ifxeaamej LEAVING TIFLIS. 7 wearing a prodigious conical cap of the same material, sits upon the forward edge of the vehicle. With a com- bination of patched leather straps and knotted ropes by way of reins, he conducts the three horses. The centre animal is between the two shafts, which are joined by a high wooden arch of a parabolic form. From the summit of this arch a leather strap, passing under the animal’s chin, keeps his head high, while two pretty large bells, hung just where he ought to keep his ears, force him to carry the latter in a painfully constrained position, while during the whole of the stage he must be almost deafened by the clang. The horses on either side are very loosely harnessed ; so much so, that while the central one is, with the vehicle, running along a deep narrow cutting, the flankers are on the top of high banks on either side, or vice versa. Once for all, I give a description of a troika as the species of carriage in which I made my journey to the Caspian. As the stations at which relays are usually found are but twenty-seven or twenty- eight miles apart, they are gone over, almost the whole time, at full gallop. In such guise, mingled with heterogeneous portions of luggage, and wallowing in thorny hay, I was whirled out of Tiflis, across a long wooden bridge over the Kur, and then up a long, zig-zag, dusty, stony road, leading to the plateau east of the town. Arrived on the plateau, a sud- den undulation of the road shuts out the last glimpse of the city. Henceforth, for many a weary league, all is bleak. There are sandy rolling expanses where the glaring gravelly surface is varied only by scant olive-green patches and clouds of dun-red dust. On the right are a couple of sad-looking turbes, or Mahometan tombs — dreary square structures of earth-coloured, unbaked brick, sur- mounted by broken cupolas, amidst whose crumbling walls nomadic goat-herds cower around a scanty fire. A 8 OUT ON THE PLAINS. compound flock of small, active sheep, mingled with wiry, long-haired goats, with an occasional diminutive donkey, the whole conducted by a scriptural-looking person with primitive shepherd’s crook, crosses the way. Then comes a string of shaggy, supercilious-aired camels, each bearing a couple of slimy casks of petroleum from Baku, every member of the string growling and groaning in true camel fashion. Now and then a blue cloud starts up from the gravelly track. It is composed of wild pigeons. What they can possibly find to attract them to that dusty gully it is not easy to understand. Yet they look plump and strong, notwithstanding the apparent unproductive- ness of the surroundings. Meanwhile the driver, with many an Asiatic whoop and shout, plies his long whip, and we tear along, one side of the troika occasionally a couple of feet higher than the other, scaring dozens of white-backed scald-crows from something they, like the pigeons, find in the dust. They fly on, a hundred yards, and then, with a curious obstinacy, settle again and again before us, to be driven on again. Away to the left the giant range of the Caucasus trembles in ghastly whiteness athwart the cloudless sky, and at its base stretches widely a blue mirage that mocks the Kur, alongside of which we go. To the right, farther off still, fainter and more visionary than the Caucasus, are the Persian mountains. Between, a vast dun expanse, fifty or sixty miles across, the horizon ahead, clear and uninterrupted as that of mid- ocean. It is not surprising that Eastern imagination has conjured up so many Gins and Ghouls to haunt its day- dreams. Out on these plains one feels more lonely and abandoned at mid-day, than in the grizzliest, most un- canny churchyard at home at the witching hour of night. It was with a real sense of relief that I at length perceived, slightly on my side of the horizon, a cloud of smoke. My POS T-HO USES— S A MO VAR. 9 conductor informed me that in a couple of hours after reaching this smoke we should arrive at the first station. A station on this route is not like a railway station. The latter exists because of certain pre-existent surround- ings; in the former case the surroundings exist because of the station. In other words, out on these steppe-like expanses, certain stages are measured off along a given line, and the people employed there have created what there is of cultivation, and attracted the small population which clusters round the post-house, which, except in the case of villages few and far between, consists simply of rude farm buildings. The station, which I found behind the horizon, comprised three small buildings of a single story, some barns, and a few enclosures for fowl and cattle. The station-master, with his military uniform and flat regulation cap, was the only sign of officialism about the place. As a rule, I found these station-masters ex- ceedingly obliging, and ready to afford the traveller every assistance. At each station-house is a ‘ guest-chamber,’ as the Mohammedans style the apartment in their houses which is appropriated to the reception of strangers. It is generally a small room containing two wooden camp-beds, a table, a fire-place, and sometimes a couple of chairs. No bedding is provided, the traveller being supposed to bring this with him, as well as his food, tea, sugar, &c. A petroleum lamp burns all night within the chamber, and another is attached to the blue and white striped post at the door, which indicates the station, with its distance from the last centre of Government, in versts. Usually it is difficult to procure food, unless some of the women of the establishment can supply a few eggs and some sheets of the peculiar leathery bread, rivalling in size and consistency a cobbler’s apron, which seems to pervade the entire East. The only thing the traveller can io TRA YELLING BY TROIKA. be certain of finding is the redoubtable samovar. This instrument is to be found in the humblest Tartar hovel, for tea — morning, noon, and night — seems an absolutely indispensable necessity of Eussian populations. This samovar is a large cylindrical brass urn, mounted on a short column and broad pedestal, having a movable cover, from the centre of which projects a vertical chimney, six inches high. This chimney connects with a central tubular furnace, which is filled with lighted charcoal. The water occupies the annular space outside, and is drawn off by means of a stopcock. The chimney is bell-mouthed, and supports a small metal or porcelain tea-pot, which contains what we should consider pretty strong tea, kept at almost boiling-point by the heat of the chimney. It is an almost universal custom here to drink tea in glass tumblers. Each glass is filled one-third, or in some cases one-half, with the liquid contained in the small tea-pot, and the remainder with boiling water from the samovar. Some persons dissolve their sugar in the tea, but many prefer to hold it between their lips and suck the tea through it. Milk or cream as an adjunct is a thing un- heard of, though sometimes rum or cognac is added. On the arrival of a troika with travellers, the samovar is im- mediately brought into the guest-room, and tea is prepared while the horses are being changed. This description will answer for the vast majority of postal stations on the Caspian route. Weak tea swallowed, the traveller again mounts his chariot, which at once dashes away in the most reckless fashion, utterly regardless of the nature or state of the road. Over bad portions the jolting of the springless vehicle is terrific, especially as, after the first ten minutes, one finds his way through the hay to the boards beneath. During the first hours of the journey from Tiflis, one forgets the physical inconveniences of the TROGLODYTIC DWELLINGS. ii system of travelling, wrapt in admiration of the wonderful mountain and plain scenes ; but the eternal sameness at length, notwithstanding its magnificence, palls upon the eye ; and the traveller falls into a dreamy state, which is broken only by some marvellous jump of the troika over an irrigation trench three feet deep, drawn across the road. The postal conveyances do not always follow the great high road. The drivers make all kinds of short cuts, choosing their way very much as a rider after the hounds would . 1 After the first two stations from Tiflis, I can only compare our mode of progress to a headlong steeplechase over a violently accidented ploughed field, with continually occurring mad dashes across steep-sided torrent beds filled with large boulders — the banks on either side having a slope of thirty or forty degrees, some- times more. The great high road is, as a rule, very good except in low-lying parts, where it is apt to be inundated at times. But the drivers of the post troikas laugh con- ventionalities to scorn, and would not go a quarter of a mile out of their way to follow the best road on earth ; and their pace over hill and dale is the same as on the highway. Under ordinary circumstances the jolting is bad enough, but * across country ’ must be left to the imagination. I remember once going into action seated on the tumbril of a field-gun, galloping over a rough, stony plain. It was luxurious ease compared to the sensa- tions experienced in a troika when the driver takes it into his head to make a short cut. At the third station from Tiflis the traveller may be said to bid farewell for the time being to civilisation. It is a kind of village on the right bank of the Kur. The 1 Since these lines ■were written, the Trans-Caucasus railroad has been com- menced and nearly completed ; so that the experiences related above are, for the traveller to Baku, things of the past. 12 WILD ANIMALS. postal station and the houses of three or four well-to-do Tartar families were the only buildings, strictly speaking, above the surface of the ground. The other dozen or so of habitations are even more troglodytic than those of Central Armenia. In the latter place there is, at least, something like a slightly raised tumulus to suggest to the experienced eye that a dwelling exists, or did so formerly. Here advantage is taken of some scarped bank, into which a broad deep trench is cut. This is covered over with hurdles and branches, and the earth which covers all is scarcely, if at all, above the level of the surrounding sur- face. Here and there a wooden cask-like construction acts as chimney ; but in most instances this last is simply a hole in the ground, with stone coping, and a small wooden fence erected round it to prevent human beings or cattle from falling through. Buffaloes and goats wander at will over these singular house-tops. A stranger is often startled, while strolling over what he considers solid ground, to come upon an oblong opening, through which he can hear human voices. This is one of the venti- lation holes which abound ; and I wonder that they are not a more frequent source of accident than they seem to be. Huge wolf-like dogs prowl about, causing the stranger to pass them by a kind of sidelong, edging movement, by way of precaution. Here and there are large rectangular enclosures seventy or eighty feet square, girt by walls of stout hurdle, within which are the farm sheds and habita- tions of the better class of the population. The hurdle wall is meant as a protection to the flocks at night, against the depredations of wolves and wild cats. These latter are really formidable creatures — little less in size than a leopard, of a lion-tawny coloured stiff fur, with flat heads and noses, half-way between those of an otter and a bull- dog. One had just been shot by a peasant close to the THIEVES— TARTAR LADIES. 13 station. It was one of the ugliest-looldng beasts I had ever seen. For twenty miles round, the country is infested by all manner of wild animals. The village or station is situated on a sloping hank, one side of which descends vertically to the Kur, often going sheer down two hundred feet to the water’s edge. The river, spread out into a network of channels and swamps, studded with marshy islands overgrown with brushwood and lesser forest trees, is nearly a mile wide. Close by are patches of primaeval forest, the haunts of wild boars, lynxes, and all the other savage animals of the locality. Wild boars’ flesh is the only meat one can reckon on, but that, with occasional wild ducks and partridges, is in abundance. Owing to the marshy ground, the neighbourhood is very unhealthy, ague largely prevailing. I myself suf- fered from the renewal in the locality of on old complaint. Hot and cold sweats, trembling, and violent accesses of vomiting are the symptoms. At one time I feared that I had caught the much-dreaded Astrakan plague, hut I recovered after a couple of days and a good deal of quinine. A still worse mishap, however, occurred at this station. I had a small leather writing-case, closed by a lock, and containing all my maps, notes, and writing material. There are always prowling round a large station a number of thievish Tartars, and while seeing to the transfer of my baggage to the place where I was to pass the night, one of these itinerant gentlemen, evidently mistaking the article for a money-box, made off with it. On missing it I at once called on the officer of the station to despatch men to pursue the thief. Everything possible was done, but in vain, and in the interim my sword-belt disappeared. The station officers had warned me against these gentry, but I could not imagine that they would carry on their depredations at the very door of the post-house. 14 ELIZABETHPOL. It would be tedious to recapitulate the scenes of each day’s journey ; one day was like another, save that at each mile the road grew worse. At last it seemed to have totally disappeared. We promenaded at will over long brown expanses, and over water-worn torrent-beds, the driver seeming always to have the most implicit faith in the impossibility of upsetting his vehicle. Sometimes long trains of camels glided by us in spectral fashion, the huge loads of lengthy osiers with which some of them were laden, the branches trailing behind on the ground, giving them the air of gigantic long-legged porcupines. Then we would meet a Tartar cavalcade, with indigenous ladies on horseback, clothed as usual in staring red garments, and much more effectually veiled than the Turkish ladies generally are. From time to time trains of twenty or thirty huge waggons, each drawn by four or five horses all abreast, came by from Persia. The trade from the latter country on this side is evidently far greater than that by the Bayazid and Erzeroum routes. On, on, across burnt-up, grey-looking expanses, the Caucasus and Persian mountains always looming right and left, amid the glare of an Eastern day. Elizabethpol, the next station, is a kind of half-way house between the last traces of Europe and the Caspian shores. It is approached by a steep road descending towards the western bank of the Kur. You cross a water-worn, boulder -strewn channel, descending at an angle of 45°. You are dragged through the water before you have time to appreciate the fact that your feet are flooded in the vehicle, and up an equally abrupt slope along the border of ancient fortifications taken by Shah Abass from the Turks 250 years ago; and then, plunging among the brick-fields and ruined mud-walls, all white in the glaring sun, you suddenly make your appearance in the modern TRANS-CAUCASIAN HOTELS. IS town of Elizabethpol. On the right are gardens, with stately trees, centennial elms, and chenars ; there are never-ending suburbs, as there usually are to Oriental towns, as nobody seems to wish to occupy a site on which a predecessor has lived. Half a verst is got over, and we are in the midst of the town of Elizabethpol. Like Tiflis, it is half Asiatic, half European. There are Tartar shops in the bazaar, there are Tartar minarets on the mosques, there are kalpaked Tartars in the streets ; the latter contrasting with the patrols of from thirty to forty soldiers, with long grey coats and fixed bayonets, marching slowly along the public ways. There are Turkish cafes — holes in the wall, as we should pro- bably call them — mere niches, within which the pro- prietor crouches, nursing his charcoal fire wherewith to light water-pipes for his customers. Those who speak of ‘ more than Eastern splendour ’ should go to Elizabethpol to have their ideas corrected. I do not know how it is that the East is always connected with splendour in European minds, but I venture to think that in the mind of anyone who has practically visited the East the idea will be reversed, and, even in traversing the Trans-Caucasus, the ground over which one goes will show even a more violent contrast between Eastern and Western civilisation than can be noticed in crossing the Bosphorus itself. My battered conveyance drew up at the door of what I should be tempted to call a caravanserai, but which, in view of the fact of its being in Bussia, I suppose I must style an hotel. Mud- spattered and weary, I descended from my nest of straw in the troika which had carried me so far, and, limping under a horse-shoe archway, found myself in a spacious courtyard, surrounded by two tiers of galleries. I was in the Grand Hotel of Elizabethpol. It was some time before I could attract the attention of any i6 TABLE-DHd TE—CA VI A RE. of the employes, but after a while I was shown into what they were pleased to call my bedroom. Its furniture con- sisted of a bedstead, guiltless of mattress or anything else which we are accustomed to associate with the name of bed. I was wearied to death, and could scarcely summon energy to cry aloud for the attendants, for bell there was not. After some parley I understood that it was the custom for travellers in these parts to bring beds with them, and that hotel-keepers were not expected to pander to the luxury of ordinary people like myself. However, by dint of bribery, I secured a kind of feather-bed, and prepared to make up by a night’s sound repose for the fatigues endured since leaving Tiflis. I thought that a wash would be the best preliminary to this ; but no such thing as a basin-stand seemed to exist. I summoned the attendant, and learned that the basin was still in use. From this I gathered that in the Grand Hotel of Elizabethpol only one basin was allowed for the service of the guests. A very solid-looking individual finally made his appearance with a basin full of water which had already been used, the con- tents of which he flung over the balcony into the centre of the yard. In this yard was already a stagnant pool, which stank horribly ; and I may add, en parentliese, that more than wash-basins were emptied into it over the balcony. There was an attempt at a table-d’hote, and a very poor one it was. The bill of fare was apparently drawn up rather for the amusement of the guests than with the view of pointing out to them in what guise they should satisfy their appetites. After having enumerated in vain several articles the names of which were written very plainly upon the carte, I was forced at length to say, ‘ What have you got ? ’ Then I discovered that there were ham and caviare, the two never- failing articles of diet to be met with in the most out-of-the-way Eussian PRINCE CHAVCHAVAZA. 1 7 town. Perhaps most of my readers are unacquainted with this Russian luxury — I mean caviare. It is the roe of the sturgeon. When the fish is freshly caught, and its roe (caviare) consumed, I am told that it is a delicacy such as the world elsewhere cannot produce. The black, salted specimens which reach Europe are, it is said, nothing in comparison with the caviare as Russians eat it at home. For my part, if the caviare as Russians eat it have any resemblance whatever to the black salted caviare familiar to us, ‘I’ll none of it.’ I once, by accident, tasted it at Constantinople, and it seemed to me that, inadvertently, a spoonful of cod-liver oil had been administered to me. It would be tedious to enumerate the disadvantages of hotels under such circumstances. They can be better imagined than described. According to Russian courtesy, when a traveller of any distinction passes through a district, he is supposed to call upon and pay his respects to the local governor. Accordingly, I donned the best suit which the slender wardrobe carried in my saddle-bags afforded me, and pre- sented myself at the palace of the Government, where Prince Chavchavaza resided. I was graciously received, but the Prince, a Georgian of the old school, unfortunately did not understand French. The secretary, more than polite, as secretaries usually are in Russia, interpreted our discourse. I was received in a chamber hung with ancient tapestry, the walls of which were garnished with arms of different periods, captured during the protracted struggle in which Schamyl led the Caucasians. Our con- versation at first took a general turn, and after a while we began to speak of the future of the Russian Empire over these vast plains. I observed that nothing but means of communication and transport were wanting to make Russia the Rome of to-day. He bowed his head in VOL. i. c i8 GENERAL LAZAREFF. assent, and gave me many examples, which space does not allow me to recapitulate here, especially as the present is only a chapter introductory to my adventures beyond the Caspian. And then, suddenly turning to me, he fixed his dark eyes upon my face with a piercing glance, and said, ‘ Do you know that we expect an army corps shortly, bound for the shores of the Caspian ? ’ ‘ My prince,’ I replied, ‘ I was unaware of the fact. Where are they going to ? ’ ‘ There is an expedition against the Turco- mans,’ he said, * commanded by General Lazareff.’ This was news for me, and I resolved, instead of proceeding on my original mission, to follow the operations of the Eussian columns. Having thus determined, nothing was left but to await the arrival of the Commander-in-Chief, General Lazareff, and to ask his permission to accompany his expedition. I waited several days, amid the usual spendthrift extravagance of Eussian border towns, and at length the colossal old general made his appearance. General Lazareff was no ordinary man. In stature he was over six feet high, and broadly made in proportion. A mass of jaw was surmounted by a more than Caesarian nose, and the large grey eye, half hidden by the heavy eyelid, denoted the amount of observation which as a specialty belongs to his race, the Armenian. Up to the age of twenty years he worked as a journeyman tailor in the town of Baku, upon the Caspian 'edge. Later on, he was a sergeant in the twenty-first regiment of the line; and when years had gone by, it was Lazareff who captured Schamyl in his stronghold amid the Caucasus. Eelegated to obscurity by political intrigues, he remained, living upon his modest allowance, until the outbreak of the Eusso- Turkisli war called him again into action. He sent for- ward a petition to the Emperor, asking to be employed in the humblest capacity, and was immediately sent to the GERMAN COLONISTS.— RAD ROADS. 19 front before Kars in the capacity of Lientenant-General. He took an active part in the siege of that place, and it was owing to his exertions, to his intrigues, and to his intrepidity, that Kars became a Russian citadel instead of a Turkish one. Two days elapsed before I was able to leave Eliza- bethpol. At half-past six in the morning I started in the postal troika. To describe the scenes and incidents along the route would be but to repeat what I have already written, for each section of the road is, physically, pre- cisely like the other, so is each post-house, so are the officials, and the occurrences of each day and hour. There are the same undulating plains, with the Kur on the right, and Persian mountains to the left ; the same clouds of blue pigeons and crows, the same dust, the same groaning camels. As the road descends towards the Kur, trees begin to appear, and there are occasional large expanses of jungle, which, to judge from the frequent appearance of animals of all descriptions, must be a happy hunting-ground for those who are addicted to field sports. Occasionally, too, one meets with a lonely farmhouse, or two or three buildings grouped together. These are for the most part inhabited by German colonists, and partially also by Fins. Around these dwellings are large vineyards. Wine is usually to be had in abundance, but it is of poor quality ; nor do I ever recollect discovering in situ any of the wine which, under the name of kakatinski, is pur- chasable at all the hotels throughout the Trans-Caucasus. From time to time, also, one meets with the semi-subter- ranean Armenian villages to which I have already alluded. On the whole, the population is exceedingly sparse, and, considering the excellence of the soil, and the abundance of water, the country may be said to be almost unin- habited. There are great tracts of giant bulrushes and rotting jungle through which the driver continues his 20 AUTOMATIC RAFT OVER EUR. way with the same mad pace as ever, making rushes at all the dangerous points, such as bridges more or less at right angles to the road, and innocent of such a thing as a parapet. Sometimes, to avoid the deep sloughs along the regular postal track, the troika is driven along the side of a hill so steeply sloping as to induce strong fears of a momentary upsetting. Over and over again I pre- ferred to dismount from my rough chariot and pick my way through the miry loam sooner than run the risk of broken bones at this, the commencement of my journey. Soon the banks of the Kur are reached — a deep, broad river, hemmed in on either side by domelike masses of brown magnesian limestone, running into each other. In many places the soil is covered with a white saline in- crustation, in appearance exactly resembling a new snow fall. From hence to the Caspian shores and beyond them the earth is impregnated with this saline matter, which, mingling with the water of the streams and wells, renders it all but undrinkable. At the crossing point is the straggling village of Mingatsur. No such thing as a bridge exists, and the stream is far too deep, even when the water is scantiest during the dry season, to allow of an attempt to ford. It is here some hundred yards wide, and is traversed by means of a raft propelled backwards and forwards by the force of the current itself. A very thick cable, supported on either bank by a tall, stout framework, is drawn as tautly as possible across the stream. This passes between two rollers on board the raft, which, accordingly as the traject is to be made in one direction or the other, is set with its side obliquely to the current, which thus drives it along the rope to the opposite side. This raft is capable of transporting a couple of large waggons and a half dozen camels simul- taneously. Along the river marge, owing to frequent TARTAR FUNERAL. 21 inundation, the ground is rich in the extreme, on account of alluvial deposits ; but as, going eastward, we leave the river behind us, bleakness again comes on, and these same eternal expanses of plain, covered with short, burnt-up herbage, reach away right and left to the Cau- casus and the Persian frontier. Here and there is to he seen a solitary camel, abandoned by some passing caravan, his depleted hump hanging over like an empty sack, and indicating an entire state of exhaustion. Towards sunset, as we drew near the fourth station from Elizabetlipol, and about 79 J versts from that town, I had an opportunity of witnessing a Tartar funeral pro- cession. First came a body of horsemen, armed to the teeth, and some twenty or thirty in number. Then a single horseman, bearing in front of him, across his saddle bow, the body, sewn up in a litter of Persian carpet, similar to that used in removing the wounded from the field of battle. The side poles had been brought together above the body, and fastened with rope. Then followed a long cavalcade composed of the friends of the deceased, moving at a very stately and funereal pace. There is a peculiarity in Tartar tombstones which now first came under my notice. They are quite unlike the turban stone of the Osmanli Turks, or the flat-lying slabs one sees among the Shiia Persians in the great burying- grounds in and around the sacred city of Meshed. The Tartar headstones are about eighteen inches high, and represent lance-heads sculptured in stone, or I might more aptly compare them to gigantic decanter stoppers. After this station the mud was so deep, and our progress so slow — the wheels sinking frequently axle deep into the stiff brown mud — that I took horse and rode some twenty versts. As none but Circassian horse- trappings were available, the stirrup leather being little over eighteen 22 MOUNTAIN ROAD.— WRETCHED POST-STATION. inches long, I suffered frightfully from the cramped position which I was obliged to adopt. At this point the plain is traversed by an elevated mountain chain, along whose sides the road proceeded in the most tiresome zig- zag manner, to enable the huge waggons plying between Baku and Tiflis, with their four or six horses abreast, to traverse the steep incline. My conductor would not follow this road, but went boldly up the side, from angle to angle, of the zigzag thoroughfare. Soon we got into the region of clouds, where all around us was a rolling waste of mist. Here and there, when wind gusts broke the wall of vapour, we caught below us occasional glimpses of the vast plain traversed by the Kur and its numerous tribu- taries. In ordinary weather, when the roads are in a tolerably good condition, by travelling hard one is sup- posed to arrive at Baku in twenty-four hours from the westward foot of this mountain; but the weather was so severe, the snow lay so deep, and the roads were in such exquisitely bad condition that we were unable to cover more than a third of the way within that time. There was a lonely station where the postmaster understood nothing but Persian. It was exceedingly cold, and I passed a wretched night sleeping upon one of the bare wooden camp beds with which the guest-rooms of the post-houses are supplied. I bought some red-legged partridges for a penny e^ch, but found them so tough that I was glad to abandon them to a hungry-looking cat who glanced at me from the corner. Next morning I started on horseback for the town of Shumakha. We were five hours in traversing the most dreadful mountain tracks, often along the top of some great landslip which the torrent at its base had sapped from the mountain side. The country seemed alive with field mice, rats, and ferrets. Never do I recollect seeing so many of these SHUMAKHA. 23 animals together. Great flocks of wild geese marched waddlingly on either side, and scarcely took the trouble to make way before our horses. Falcons and kites, too, were to be seen in incredible numbers, doubtless owing to the abundance of provision which they found at hand. Leaving the mountain, with its snow and fog, behind us, it was an inexpressible relief to issue upon the dry, warm plain stretching eastward to Shumaklia. This place has the appearance of having been once a flourishing town, but owing to a violent earthquake which took place here some years back there is scarcely an edifice which is not in a ruinous condition. There are two large-sized mosques, one belonging to the Shiia Mussulmans, the other to the Sunnites of the town, for the population of Shumakha is almost exclusively Mussulman. The few Christians that there are, live in a quarter by themselves. The church tower, crowned with its green kiosk, rises in strong contrast with the crimson dome and minarets im- mediately in front. Considerable as the town is, at the postal station neither horses nor troikas were to be found for the moment, and I was obliged *to spend another night upon the rude benches of the guest-chamber, starting again early on the morning of Wednesday, the 27 th, and passing another exceedingly disagreeable 2>nd difficult series of mountains deeply covered with snow. Passing through Maraza, the station of Xorezsafen, thirty-one versts from Baku, is reached. Here the postal station consists of an antique castellated structure, in the old Moorish style, coeval with the days of Tartar inde- pendence, and known as Sheik Abass’ house. At the next station, some sixteen versts farther on, my patience was sorely tried. The station itself consisted of a series of extensive farm-buildings, and there seemed no lack of troikas and horses standing about in the muddy places 24 FIRST SIGHT OF CASPIAN. which represented stable-yards. A wedding was in pro- gress, and the driver whose turn it was to conduct the vehicles could on no condition be induced to turn his back to the good cheer and vodka of the festivities. After a prolonged and wearisome debate among the company it was finally agreed to send a driver, but I had scarcely made two or three versts across a most disagreeably rocky ground when I perceived that my conductor had not the slightest intention of pushing on to Baku, and was trying every possible ruse in order to make out that it was im- possible to reach my destination that evening. It was far better, he said, to turn back and partake of the good things which were being distributed at the marriage feast, and to pass the night in comfort, instead of pushing across the uncomfortable ground which lay between us and Baku. There were, he said, deep rivers to be crossed, and brigands were notoriously numerous along their banks. Finding me inexorable, he first upset one of the horses, and then managed to smash his harness. After a long halt in the cold, and bitterly cold it was, a com- bination of knotty straps and rotten ropes was rigged up, and we went forward, at as slow a pace as it was possible for a troika to move at without standing still altogether. The horses had, apparently, as great an objection to go forward as the driver, and wandered incontinently all over the ground in any direction but that required of them. At length the fellow declared that with these horses it was impossible to go on, and I was obliged to sit waiting for two hours while he returned to the last station for others. It was seven o’clock in the morning when, after a weary night drive, we came in sight of Baku, lying some ten versts off; the Caspian, glittering beyond, being seen at intervals between the low hills that flanked its border. The country at this point is inex- TARTAR CARTS.— ENTERING BAKU. 25 pressibly dreary and volcanic-looking; the salt incrusta- tions which I have already mentioned are thicker and more extensive than ever. Here and there were straggling Tartar villages, with their flat houses and preposterously large conical chimneys, looking like gigantic mushrooms. From time to time we passed along the road the peculiar- looking carts characteristic of the country. The wheels were not less than eight feet in diameter, and very close to each other, the body of the cart being but two feet wide, a structure like a pulpit rising in front, gaudily painted, and probably intended for the use of the con- ductor. The centre of gravity of the vehicle was pitched so high, the wheels were so tall, and by their proximity afforded such a slender base, that it was a matter of wonder that at each jolt over the stony ground the entire contrivance did not turn over. It bore no bad resem- blance to a great grass- spider with his long legs. Small cows, too, were to be met, with burdens strapped upon their backs, as one sees them among the nomad Kurds of Persia ; and at length, driving at breakneck pace down the steeply- winding road, the troika jostling and reeling over the rocky surface streaked with the wheel-marks of ages, we dashed into the outskirts of Baku. Away on the left, crowning the heights, and scattered in apparently unlimited numbers over the country northwards, were to be seen strange-looking constructions resembling enormous sentry-boxes, and some twenty-five feet in height. These were erected over the petroleum wells of Balahane and Sulahane. Entering Baku itself, the driver descended for a moment from his seat to tie up the bells hanging from the wooden arch above the central horse, the municipal regula- tions forbidding the entry of postal vehicles accompanied by their usual jangling uproar, lest the horses of the town 'phaetons should take fright. Baku merits a chapter of its own. BAKU. 26 CHAPTEE II. BAKU. Baku — Apscheron promontory — Country round Baku — Armenian emigrants from Turkish territory — Russian town — Old Baku — Ancient Tartar town — Old fortifications — Citadel— Bazaars — Mosques — Palace of Tartar Khans — Caspian steamers — Municipal garden — Mixed population — Bazaar held in aid of victims of Orenburg fire — National costumes and types — Nature of population — Banished Christian sects — Malakani and Scopts — Mercurius Company — Russian girls’ dress — Origin of name of Baku — Bituminous dust — Laying it with cistatki — Boring for petroleum — Distilling and purifying — Utilization of refuse for steamers — Probable adaptation to railroads — Island of Tcheliken — Pire temple — G-uebre fire-worship. Baku, a few years back little if at all known to Europeans, is a place full of interest, and one destined to play an important part in the future of the Caspian regions. It is situated on the western shores of the Caspian Sea, on the promontory of Apscheron, which juts out eastward, and is the point nearest to Krasnavodsk, on the opposite littoral. The surroundings are of the same bleak and desert kind which characterises almost the entire circuit of the sea. In fact, the Steppes commence far west of the latter. Eor leagues around not a blade of grass is to be seen, and not even a shrub breaks the arid expanse of broken strata and scorched marl. Here and there, at long intervals, is a Tartar village, or the crumbling remains of some ancient Persian town. At midday not a living thing is visible, and the white glare of an Eastern sun reveals with painful distinctness every detail of the ghastly desola- tion. The houses are all of one story, flat-roofed, and built BAKU. 2 7 of great slabs of kneaded clay dried in the snn. Were it not for the huge conical chimneys, which rise like watch- towers from the flat roofs, at a distance it would be impos- sible to distinguish these clay-coloured dwellings from the surrounding soil. Occasionally one sees a semi-subterranean Armenian village inhabited by emigrants from Turkish territory. These people adhere to their old system of con- struction, living in burrows covered over by low mounds of earth, and entered by a descending staircase. It is quite possible for a stranger, unaccustomed to these dwellings, to ride or walk across an entire village without being aware of its existence. A semi-circle of rugged scorched hills of grey sand- stone, highest towards the south, and dying away north- ward into the plain, encloses Baku on the land side. The northern portion of the town is altogether European in appearance, with yellow stone-fronted houses precisely similar to those of a Western Russian town. There is a large square, round which are planted a few stunted bushes and acacias. The orthodox Russian Church, of severely simple architecture, occupies the south-western side, just within the old fortifications ; while on the northern side is an equally stern-looking Gregorian Armenian place of worship. Close by this square is the ancient Tartar town, the old fortifications still quite perfect, save where a couple of bastion towers show the yawning breaches effected by the Russian artillery some fifty years ago. The walls are lofty, solidly constructed, and flanked by numerous circular towers. A fausse-braye , or lower exterior rampart, adds to the strength of the place. The northern gateway is covered by a heavy stone ravelin, evidently of much later construction than the town walls. In the midst of the sea-front of the town, its eastern side, rises an immense circular tower, with massive outlying flank of 28 OLD PALACE.— GARDENS. oblong plan, over one hundred and fifty feet high, and which at present serves as a lighthouse. Around its base are the ruins of the old bazaar, part of which is now converted into a school for children, and close by is the modern thoroughly Oriental bazaar, where, in a series of vaulted passages, opening in the roof, Armenian and Persian mer- chants sit cross-legged in the midst of an infinity of articles of almost every conceivable kind — bowls of spice, packages of starch and candles, rolls of calico, boxes of tea, cases of scissors, combs, brushes, ammunition, pipes, tobacco ; in fact, it would be hard to think of a merchandise which these dealers do not each and all offer to the public. This tower is of considerable age, and was built during the reigns of the old Tartar Khans of Baku. Not far from it are some very old and solidly built mosques of bluish-grey stone, profusely ornamented with Cufic inscriptions, and bearing palpable marks of the Russian artillery fire. The streets are narrow, and the houses of the genuine ogive-windowed, flat-roofed Persian type. The old Tartar town, that lying within the ramparts, slopes up the hill on whose eastern side it is built, and at the top rises the palace of the former Tartar Khans, still in a state of excellent preservation, and now made use of as a Russian artillery depot. For a mile along the water’s edge are numerous piers, alongside of •which steamers of a thousand tons can lie to discharge their cargoes. There are usually eight or ten merchant steamers in port, besides a couple of steam corvettes belonging to the Caspian flotilla. At the southern extremity of the town, immediately outside the old walls, a garden has been planted, which, owing to the entire absence of water and the bituminous nature of the soil, requires the most assiduous care to keep it in existence. The environs of Baku itself being entirely destitute of trees and flowers those of the public garden GUEBRE PRIEST. 29 had to be brought from Persia at a great expense. There are the yellow flowering broom ( Planta genista), which in this climate attains the dimensions of an ordinary apple tree ; large rose trees, and twenty others for which T know no name. Every Sunday and Thursday a military band plays from sunset until ten o’clock in the evening. In the most cosmopolitan town in Europe it would be hard to match the mixed population that throng these gardens. Shortly after my arrival, a kind of bazaar was held in aid of the victims of the fire at Orenburg ; and, perhaps, in prospectu for the victims of the coming cam- paign. The Red Cross Society presided. There were few nations in Europe unrepresented. All the more strange that few even know of this town of Baku — separated but by the Caspian’s breadth from the borders of the vast desert reaching far away to the limits of Cathay and the regions from which Marco Polo brought back his tale of wonders. The expedition which was to penetrate into hitherto unknown regions away across the Steppes was represented at the gathering. Long white-robed Cos- sacks and blue-vested dragoons thronged the green alleys with training sabres, and mingled with an Eastern popula- tion. The eye is attracted by a reverend form reclining on a bench, under the shadow of the clustering trees. His long blue robe, coal-black plaited hair, and white turban bespeak him a priest. But he is one of a sect long passed away. He is the last priest of Zoroaster’s creed that lingers yet in a region once all its own. He sits gazing dreamily at the shifting throng before him, thinking, perhaps, of the past glories of Iran, ‘ quenched with the flame in Mithra’s caves.’ Close by is a group of young men whose blue, green, or brown robes, and spot- less white turbans, show them to be Softas, theological students, priestly aspirants of the Shiia Mussulman sect. 30 NATIONAL COSTUMES.— RELIGIOUS SECTS. Their faces are handsome and well cut, but bear the unmistakable stamp of dissipation. In the throng which saunters along the leafy alleys under the twinkling lamps suspended from the trees are to be seen the costumes, all of them strongly contrasting, of Germans, Swedes, Geor- gians, Jews, Persians, Armenians, Poles, Russians, and Tartars, not to speak of those of the different religious sects which obtain in Baku. There is the Jew with his black cloth cap, sombre robe, and long staff; the Armenian, with sleek black silk tunic, flat-peaked cap of the same colour, and belt of massive pieces of carved enamelled silver ; the Georgian, vested almost like the Circassian, with silver mounted cartridge tubes in horizon- tal rows on either breast, and guardless Caucasian sabre, the richly-mounted hilt entering with the blade up to the pommel in the leather sheath. The Russian peasant at all seasons wears the usual long slieep-skin tunic, the wool within, the amber yellow-tanned skin outwards, long leather boots, and a fur hat. The Tartar has his great woolly hat, like that of the Grenadier Guards, and a curious nondescript flowing robe of various colours. The Persian has one invariable, distinctive mark : his tall hat of black Astrakan wool, oval in section, the top often modified at the taste of the owner to a more or less mitred shape. The Swedes, Germans, Russians, and others of a superior class, all wear a strictly European costume. The couple of American engineers present wore a strictly Yankee garb. Among all the frequenters of the garden promenade, by far the most curious were those belonging to different Christian sects. From what I have learned from different sources it seems there was a moment when the efforts directed towards national unity of creed per- mitted of no departure from the strictly orthodox faith. Pole3 and Russians who held fantastic Nonconformist RELIGIOUS SECTS. 3i ideas were relegated to the borders of the Caspian. In the case of the Poles there was probably also a certain mixture of political ideas. Among these religious sects, after the fire-worshipping priest, I shall mention but two — the Malakani and the Scopts. The first differ but little from the orthodox creed, save that they insist upon making use of milk and butter during the Lenten period. I was unable to distinguish any difference in dress between the male members of this congregation and the same sex of similar nationality. The ladies wear old-fashioned gowns with wide skirts of the brightest possible colours, emerald green and scarlet, lilac or blue. On the head is a hand- kerchief of variegated hues, knotted under the chin in Scandinavian fashion, the point falling between the shoulders. This sect is sub-divided into two sections. One considers it lawful to sing during Divine service, the other confines itself to slow dancing to the accompaniment of a monotonous drumming executed by some members of the congregation. I believe that in other respects both sub-divisions accept the usual dogmas. Of the Scopts, owing to their very peculiar ideas, I must say but little. They have curious notions about the possibilities of exces- sive population before the arrival of the Day of Judgment. They devote themselves to the production of capital and the limitation of offspring. One child is allowed to each married couple. Both sexes then undergo a peculiar and barbarous mutilation. This sect lies under the special ban of Russian law. It is a curious fact that all its com- ponent members inhabiting Baku, the only place in which I ever had an opportunity of seeing or inquiring about them, live in the same street, and are mostly bakers. The men are easily recognised in the streets by their melancholy, downcast air, and pale, shrivelled faces, as well as by their semi- Judaic garb. The German inhabitants 32 ORIGIN OF NAME BAKU.— BITUMINOUS DUST. are few in number, either belonging to large commercial houses, or to the extensive petroleum works near Baku, about which I shall have something to say later on. The Swedes are mostly employed in connection with a steamship company founded by their countrymen, and which rivals the Mercurius, the Russian shipowners’ company on the Caspian waters. Among the brightest and most graceful costumes in these garden promenades was that of some young Russian girls of the higher classes, who on gala occasions don the typical dress of the peasantry. This consists of a black or red skirt, with broad blue, red, and white parallel lines around the lower edge, turning sharply square at the corners like those patterns one sees in old Pompeian frescoes. A small black apron with the same border is added. A white muslin handkerchief crossed on the breast, knotted and pendant behind, and a wide-leafed straw hat with pendant edges, complete the costume. The name of Baku means ‘a place beaten by the winds.’ Never did any locality better merit the appella- tion. Even in these hot summer months, when at times we lie gasping for a breath of ah’, sudden storms arise, sometimes from the seaward, sometimes from off the land. These storms raise clouds of dun-yellow dust, whirling in columns like the sand before the simoom. This dust has a particularly disagreeable nature, all its own. All around Baku the ground is sodden with natural issues of naphtha. In some places the earth is converted into a natural asplialte, hard during cold weather, but into which the foot sinks a couple of inches at midday in summer. Add to this that, owing to the scarcity of water, the streets are moistened with coarse black residual naphtha, a treacly fluid which remains after the distillation of the raw petroleum, and termed astatki in Russia. It effectually lays BORING FOR PETROLEUM. 33 the dust during fifteen days. After this period a thick brown dust lies four or five inches deep in the roadway, over which the numerous phaetons, or street carriages, glide so softly and noiselessly that the foot passenger is frequently in danger of being run over. When a north or west wind arises, the air is thick with impalpable marly earth, combined with bitumen. The least glow of sun- shine fixes this indelibly in one’s clothes. No amount of brushing or washing can remove it. Perhaps I cannot here do better than enter on a short description of the sources of mineral oil lying around Baku, which well merits the title of the ‘ Oil City ’ of the East. The shores of Baku bay north of the town trend towards the east, and some five or six miles distant are the petroleum, or, as they are termed, the naphtha springs of Balahane and Sulahane, the former fifteen, the latter eighteen versts from the town. The surrounding district is almost entirely destitute of vegetation ; and in its midst are some black-looking brick buildings, interspersed with those curious wooden structures, which I have mentioned in describing the approaches to Baku, twenty feet high, and resembling Continental windmills or gigantic sentry boxes. These latter are the pump or well houses covering the borings for oil, and in which the crude liquid is brought to the surface. The odour of petroleum pervades the entire locality, and the ground is black with waste liquid and natural infiltrations. Boring for naphtha is conducted much in the same manner as that for coal. An iron bit, gouge-shaped, is fitted to a boring bar eight or ten feet in length, which is successively fitted to other lengths as the depth of the piercing increases. This depth varies from fifty to one hundred and fifty yards, this difference existing even at very short horizontal distances, some- times of not over forty yards. Layers of sand and rock VOL. I. D 34 DISTILLATION OF PETROLEUM. have to be pierced. It is in the sand that often the greatest difficulties are to be met with. A loose boulder will meet the boring tool, and, displacing itself, leave the passage free. But when the rods are withdrawn to allow the introduction of the tubes which form the lining of the well, the boulder falls back to its place, and baffles all attempts to continue the orifice. This boulder difficulty is the great terror of those commencing to bore. Some- times, after a lengthened discharge of light carburetted hydrogen, the naphtha rises to the surface, and even flows over abundantly, occasionally springing fountain-like into the air to a height of eight or ten feet for hours at a time, as in the case of the artesian well. In such cases the ground around the boring is often flooded to a depth of six inches with the mineral oil, which, to avoid the danger of a conflagration, has to be let off by channels constructed so as to lead out to seaward. Under ordinary circumstances, it has to be drawn up from a considerable depth. The boring is generally ten, or at most eighteen, inches in diameter. A long bucket, or rather a tube stopped at the bottom and fifteen feet in length, is lowered into the well, and drawn up full of crude petroleum- fifty gallons at a time. This, which is a blue-pink trans- parent liquid, is poured into a rudely constructed, plank- lined trough at the door of the well house, whence it flows by an equally rude channel to the distillery. The distilla- tion is conducted at a temperature commencing with 140 degrees — much lower, I am told, than the first boiling point for that from Pennsylvania. When no more oil comes over at this heat, the result is withdrawn and the temperature increased by ten degrees. This second result is also laid aside, and, the heat being again increased, a third distillation is carried on until no further easily evaporated liquid remains. This last is the best quality ASTATKL— ADAPTATION TO STEAM NAVIGATION. 35 of petroleum for lamps. That which preceded it is the second quality ; and the first, or highly volatile liquid, is either thrown away or mixed with the best and second best as an adulteration. The thick dark brown treacly fluid remaining after distillation is termed astatki, and is that used for the irrigation of the streets. The distilled petroleum, if used in lamps, would quickly clog the wick with a carbonaceous deposit. With a view to obviating this, previous to being offered for sale it is placed in a reservoir, within which revolves a large paddle-wheel. Sulphuric acid is first added, and, after being allowed to settle, the clear top liquor is drawn off, and similarly treated with caustic potash. After this it is ready for sale. Up to the present, the residues, after the acid and potash treatments, have not been utilised. I have no doubt that valuable products will ultimately be derived from them. With the astatki , or remnant after the first distillation, the case is different. For years past this has been the only fuel used on board the war ships and mercantile steamers of the Caspian. At Baku its price is only nominal, vast quantities being poured into the sea for lack of stowing space or demand. It is used in cook- ing apparatus, and for the production of gas for light- ing purposes. In the latter case it is allowed to trickle slowly into retorts raised to a dull red heat, pure gas with little graphite being the result. Weight for weight, this waste product gives four times as great a volume of gas as ordinary coal. By distillation at a high temperature and treatment with an alkaline substance, a product is obtained which is used as a substitute for oil in greasing machinery. Apart from the local use of petroleum for lighting purposes, and its exportation for a similar use, is its appli- cation to steam navigation. With the old-fashioned 36 ASTATKI FUEL. boilers in use, which have a central opening running longi- tudinally, no modification is necessary for the application of the new fuel. A reservoir, containing some hundred pounds’ weight of the refuse ( astatki ), is furnished with a small tube, bearing another at its extremity, a few inches long, and at right angles with the conduit. From this latter it trickles slowly. Close by is the mouth of another tube, connected with the boiler. A pan containing tow or wood saturated with astatki is first introduced to heat the water, and, once the slightest steam pressure is produced, a jet of vapour is thrown upon the dropping bituminous fluid, which is thus converted into spray. A light is applied, and then a roaring deluge of fire inundates the central opening of the boiler. It is a kind of self-acting blow-pipe. This volume of fire can be controlled by one man, by means of the two stop-cocks, as easily as the flame in an ordinary gas jet. This I have repeatedly witnessed on board the Caspian steamers. As regards the expense, I give the following data on the authority of a merchant captain who has used naphtha fuel for years. His steamer is of four hundred and fifty tons, and of one hundred and twenty horse-power. He burns thirty pood per hour of astatki to obtain a speed of thirteen nautical miles in the same time. One pood is about thirty- three English pounds (16 kilogrammes), and costs on an aver- age from five to six pence. Thus a twenty hours’ voyage at full speed for such a vessel costs about twelve pounds sterling. The fuel is as safe as and occupies much less space than the amount of coal necessary to produce a similar effect, not to speak of the enormous difference in price and the saving of manual labour. Two engineers and two stokers suffice for a steamer of a thousand tons burden. In view of the immense supply of natural petro- leum, as yet only very slightly developed, and its application CARBURETTED HYDROGEN.— FIRE TEMPLE. 37 to the already guaranteed railway from Tiflis to Baku, and to the inevitable future ones beyond the Caspian over the plains of the far East connecting with that already con- structed from Krasnavodsk to the new Russian possessions of the Akhal Tekke, I think this subject is worthy of every attention. Yet there are proprietors of large tracts of petroleum-bearing ground whose capital rests unproductive because of a want of demand. The island of Tcheliken, not far from Krasnavodsk, teems with the precious liquid. The seaward cliffs are black with its streams flowing idly into the sea ; and a natural paraffin, or ‘ mineral wax,’ is found abundantly in the island and in the low hills a hundred versts west of Krasnavodsk. All round Baku the ground is full of naphtha. In hundreds of places it exhales from the ground and burns freely when a light is applied. Only a couple of months before my visit its volatile pro- ducts produced a remarkable effect a few miles south of Baku. A large earth cliff fronting the sea was tumbled over as by an earthquake shock, and, as I saw myself, huge boulders and weighty ships’ boilers were thrown a hundred yards. In some places I have seen fifty or sixty furnaces for burning lime, the flame used being solely that of the carburetted hydrogen issuing naturally from fissures in the earth. This brings me to one of the most curious features of Baku and its environs. It was one of the last strong- holds of the ‘ Fire-worshippers,’ and I am sure that had Thomas Moore ever travelled so far eastward he would have made 4 Hafid ’ figure rather on the top of the gigantic double citadel- tower (150 feet high) than on the peak of an imaginary mountain overhanging the waters of the Sea of Oman. In the midst of the busy petroleum works of Sulahane and Balahane, where the chimneys of the distilling works no doubt far surpass in height the fire towers of old, is a 38 FIRE TEMPLE. real specimen of the religious architecture and practices of ante-Mussulman days. After stumbling through the black naphtha mud, and over uneven foundations, a hole roughly broken in a modern wall gives entry to a small chamber, twenty feet by fifteen, adjoining which is a smaller one to the right. In the opposite wall and to the left is another low door opening on a semi-circular yard, fifteen feet wide at its greater diameter. It is the re- maining half of a once celebrated fire temple, or rather of the small monastery connected with it. The exterior wall, eleven or twelve feet high, on which is a parapeted walk, is composed of rough stone. From the courtyard one can enter thirty-five roomy cells, accessible by as many doors. These were the cells of the former devotees of fire, or perhaps the accommodation for the pilgrims who came to visit the shrine, such as we see at celebrated religious tombs in Persia to-day. These cells formerly enclosed a circular space, one-half of which has been demolished or has fallen to ruin, and a modern wall through which one enters is the diameter of the circle. Looking northward, and sup ported by three double sets of pillars, is the ancient chief entrance, above which the parapet walk is continued. This entrance has been long walled up, and the only access is given by the hole broken in the modern wall behind. The cells formerly occupied by the monks or pilgrims are now rented at a moderate price to some of the workmen who belong to the factories immediately surrounding, by the priest, the last of his race, who still lingers beside his unfrequented altars. Near the western wall of the semi-circular enclosure is the real fire shrine. It is a square platform, ascended by three steps, of a little over one foot each in height. The upper portion of the platform is about sixteen feet square, and at each angle rises a monolith column of grey stone, some sixteen feet high and seven feet broad at the GUEBRE WORSHIP. 39 base, supporting a gently sloping stone roof. In the centre of the platform is a small iron tube, where the sacred fire once burned. North, south, and east of this shed-like temple are three wells with slightly raised borders, the contents of which could at a previous period be lighted at will. Now, owing to the drain on the subterranean gases, this is no longer possible. In the chamber which we enter through the rough hole in the modern wall we find the only remnants of the old worship. The priest is called for. He is the same we have seen lounging meditatively in the gardens of Baku. He dons a long white robe, taken from a rude cupboard in the white-washed wall, and, drawing near a kind of wide altar tomb at the south- western corner of the chamber, railed off from the outer portion of the apartment by a low wooden balustrade, applies a lighted match, which he has previously sought for in a most prosaic manner in his breeches pocket, to a small iron tube. A jet of pale blue lambent flame is produced, rising to the height of eight inches or a foot. Seizing the rope of a bell hung over his head, he rings half a dozen strokes upon it, then takes in his hand a small bell, and, ringing it continually, proceeds to bow and genuflect before the altar, ‘ muttering o’er his mystic spells.’ The lights wane gradually, and go out. And then, advancing towards the curious spectator, the priest proffers on a small brass dish a few grains of barley or rice, or, as I once saw, three or four pieces of candied sugar, which the envelope indicated had been manufactured in Paris ! A person in the East always gives a present with the view of receiving at least fifty times its value in return ; so we present the last of his race with a couple of roubles, and retire. 40 INTERVIEW WITH LA Z A REEF. CHAPTER III. ACROSS THE CASPIAN TO TCHIKISLAR AND CHATTE. Interview with Lazareff — Voyage to Tchikislar — Reception by Turcomans- ~ Their Costume and Dwellings— Fort of Tchikislar — Presents to Yamud chiefs — Akhal Tekke prisoners — Journey to Chatte — Russian discipline — Rain pools and mirage — Wild asses and antelopes — Fort of Chatte — Atterek and Sumbar rivers — Banks of the Atterek— Diary of Journey — Bouyun Bache — Delilli -Bait Hadji — Yaghli Olum — Tekindji — Review of Lazareff’s regiment — Flies at Chatte — Tile pavements — Remnants of old civilization. I called upon General Lazareff at Baku, when I learned that he was about to start for the Eastern Caspian shore and the camp of Tchikislar, the immediate base of opera- tions of the expeditionary columns destined for service against the Akhal Tekke Turcomans. On my asking permission to go with him, he very kindly said he would be glad of my company, but that the formality, at least, of requesting the consent of H.I.H. the Grand Duke commanding at Tiflis, must be gone through. In two days the requisite permission arrived, and I was directed to hand my papers to Colonel Malama, the chief of staff of the expeditionary forces. On the afternoon of Tuesday, April 2, 1879, with the General-in-Chief and his staff I went on board the Russian war steamer ‘ Nasr Eddin Shah,’ bound for the camp on the south-eastern shore of the Caspian. Nothing could exceed the old General’s kindness to me. I was his guest on board, and he took every opportunity of distinguishing me. On the following Friday, April 5, we anchored in front of the long, low- lying sandy shore off Tchikislar, but, owing to the extreme LANDING AT TCHIKISLAR. 4i shallowness of the water, we were obliged, at a distance of two and a half miles from it, to land in men-of-war’s boats at the extremity of a rude pier, at that time reaching but some hundred and fifty yards out into the shallows. It was originally a kind of sand-spit, used by the Turcomans when discharging the cargoes of their lodkas. The General was received by some score of Yamud elders, who, drawn up at the extremity of the pier, offered him, as he landed, a cake of bread, a plate of salt, and a large fish newly caught ; meantime, the guns in the small redoubt adjoining the camp thundered out their salute. The Turcomans of the entire surrounding neighbourhood had assembled to do honour to the General, and were drawn up on either side of the pier along which he passed to the shore. At its landward extremity, a number of Turcomans held prostrate on the ground half a dozen black-haired sheep, and, as he passed, a knife was drawn across the throat of each animal, the blood streaming, hot and smoking, across his path, and flooding the ground to such an extent that our shoes were all ensanguined as we walked in procession across it. It was the first time I had had a good opportunity of seeing genuine Turcomans. Each wore the enormous sheepskin shako affected by the in- habitants of Central Asia, and a long tunic of some bright colour, tightly girt at the waist by a broad white sash, knotted in front, a long dirk thrust through it. Over this was an exterior garment of some sombre tint, with long sleeves, which the wearers were continually pulling back' wards in order to leave their hands free. Each, together with his poniard, wore a curved, leather-sheathed sabre, with cross guard. One might have imagined them a battalion of the Foot Guards, robed for the nonce in dressing gowns. Some, also, wore the enormous pelisse of sheepskin so common among the dwellers in Central 42 CAMP OF TCHIKISLA R. — LA ZA REFF’S SPEECH. Asia, and which, doubtless, has been worn in those far-off lands from time immemorial. A person of an imaginative turn of mind might see in these primitively- clad Turco- mans so many resurrected bodies of Cyrus’s or Zenghis Khan’s camp followers or soldiers. The camp was partly composed of regular Russian military tents, and partly of the circular, bee-hive-shaped Turcoman dwellings known as aladjaks, kibitkas , or evs. These are some fifteen feet in diameter, and twelve feet high to the centre of the dome-like roof, covered with felt an inch in thickness, the vertical portion of the walls being further bound round with a kind of reed matting. As I shall afterwards have occa- sion, in describing my visit to Merv, to speak of these circular dwellings more in detail, I shall now confine myself to a brief allusion to them. The fortifications of Tchikislar were, in themselves, but very trifling. A low parapet of sand and a shallow beach surrounded a quadrangular space about two hundred yards square. In its centre was the kibitka of the Commandant ; and not far from this latter was a tall signal station, composed of a platform elevated on a very tapering pyramid of poles to a height of sixty or seventy feet. This served the double purpose of a light-house at night and a look-out station during the day. Immediately on his arrival, General Lazareff gave an audience to a number of chiefs of the Yamud Turcomans, and delivered to them a short and characteristic speech. He said that he had come among them as a friend, that he hoped they would offer no opposition to his march through their territory, and hinted, more or less vaguely, that the true objective point of the expedition lay far beyond their bounds. Among his audience were fifteen or sixteen Akhal Tekke prisoners captured during some recent skirmish in the direction of the entrenched camp of Chatte. The EN ROUTE FOR CHATTE. 43 majority of them were keen, intelligent-looking men, but among them were some faces of as ruffianly a cast as it has ever been my lot to see. With a view of propitiating their companions of the distant oasis, the General ordered the immediate release of these prisoners, and sent them away to their homes, giving to each some trifling present in money or articles of European manufacture. To them, as well as to the Yamud chiefs and elders, he gave silver watches, silver-mounted handjars, pieces of bright-coloured cloth, and such like articles, as he thought might he pleas- ing to them. On the following morning, April 6, a little before daybreak, we started for the advanced post of Chatte, at the junction of the Atterek and Sumbar rivers. The General led the way in a carriage drawn by four horses, his chief of staff following in another ; then came half a dozen troikas, exactly similar to those which I have described in relating my journey from Tiflis to Baku, carrying various members of his household, as well as the personal baggage. We were escorted by some two hundred Cossacks. Half a sotnia (fifty) rode a hundred yards in advance of the General’s carriage, bearing the great black and white standard of their regiment ; while the remainder, at a dis- tance of two or three hundred yards on either flank of the cortege, rode in single file. Other detachments of horse had been sent forward to scour the plain, and to see that the road was clear, as well as to put the detachments of infantry, posted at various intermediate points along the road, on the alert. For upwards of four miles the road was an excessively disagreeable one, for the waters of the Caspian, under the pressure of a wind from the west, are often forced over the plain to the distance of more than a league. All over the first section of the road were deep accumu- lations of sand, into which the wheels of the vehicles sank deeply, and all the force of traction of the horses was 44 EN ROUTE FOR CHATTE.— MIRAGE. required in order to drag them slowly along. Two miles inland I saw the bleaching skin of the Caspian carp ; and multitudes of sea anemones lay around. Far inland, too, we met with Turcoman tdimuls, or dug-out canoes, lying about over the plains in the places where they had been left stranded by the retiring waters. Beyond this sandy zone the road became better and better with every mile of our advance, and ultimately we were careering along at the rate of ten miles an hour over a hard, white marly plain, as level as the best kept high road in the United Kingdom. As the day grew on, the heat became intense, and there continually stretched before us, to the eastward, one mag- nificent mirage, which made us imagine that we were but crossing some isthmus between one sea and another. Un- dulations and irregularities of ground showed in the midst of the silvery expanse like so many headlands and islands, and the atmospheric effects magnified the most trifling objects at a distance to extraordinary dimensions, a tama- risk bush or clump of camel thorn not more than eighteen inches high often assuming to our eyes the proportions of a crouching camel. Nothing could well be more picturesque than our long procession of carriages and troikas , flanked by galloping Cossacks in their wild, semi-Eastern garb, as we dashed along over the burning plain towards the appa- rently unreachable water expanse stretching away eastward. The plain was, for the most part, dotted with scrubby, thick-leaved plants, belonging to the order of Crassulacece, or Chir atari, as the Turcomans call it, mingled with the ever present camel thorn (yandak), and a kind of lichen-like vegetable growth. Now and then we passed wide areas of ground entirely destitute of the smallest trace of vegetation of any kind. These were sometimes two or three miles in extent, and marked the spots where the winter rain-falls had lodged in immense sheets of water until over- K A RAJ A BATUR.— CAMEL BONES. 45 powered by the great mid-day heats of the spring and early summer. At other periods of the year I have seen these great shallow lakes undried by the sun ; but so used had I become to the mirage that, when first I espied the glitter- ing of the sea afar off, I could scarce bring myself to believe that it was not the oft-repeated atmospheric delusion which had so frequently beguiled me into a bootless ride of many a league in search of the wished-for water. On this present occasion, the spaces of ground upon which the water had lain during the period at which vegetation usually springs up with the little vigour it ever possesses in these dusty plains, presented a glaring white surface, as if the marl had been calcined in some mighty furnace, the water having, in fact, as effectually prevented germination as the fiercest sun-rays could have done. At two o’clock in the afternoon we reached the first station, Karaja-Batur, about thirty, miles distant from Tchikislar. Here we found two companies of soldiers entrenched within a small rectangular redoubt, and a water party busy in excavating wells for the future use of the expeditionary force. Close by us was an old sepulchral tumulus, indicating the spot where a celebrated Turcoman leader, killed in some forgotten combat, was buried. Within the redoubt were a few aladjaks for the use of the soldiers, ordinary regulation tents being almost entirely useless as a protection against the sun. After an hour or two’s rest we again set forward, the apparently interminable plain always presenting the same characteristic features. Camel and mule bones, bleaching in the sun, strewed every foot of the way — ghastly evidences of the dangers awaiting the traveller across these silent tracts. Save ourselves, not a living being of any description was in sight. Not even a prowling Turcoman was to be seen. In some places, where the great rain-pools were not yet quite dried up, the muddy soil bore the foot-prints of immense 46 TEKINDJL — CHA TTE. numbers of antelopes and wild asses, the only creatures, excepting tortoises, lizards, and tarantulas, seeming capable of existence in this horrid desert. During all our journey we had not once caught sight of the river Atterek, for we were moving in a direct line along the cord of the circular sweep described by the river, which, besides, has excavated its bed to such a depth below the surface that it is entirely invisible until you arrive upon its very edge. Evening had long closed in, and we still continued our headlong course, some of the vehicles going astray in the darkness, and having to be sought for by Cossack pickets lest they should by chance fall across parties of Turcomans in the dark. It must have been two hours after sunset as we reached Tekindji, the last station before Chatte. Here, again, were a small redoubt, and some kibitkas, on the floors of which we were glad to sleep until morning. Sunrise again saw us on our way, and we halted but once in a shallow ravine, for breakfast. This ravine, apparently the bed of some considerable stream which once swelled the volume of the Atterek, is now destitute of a single drop of water. Here we were met by some Cossacks, sent forward from Chatte, who were supplemented by some three hundred auxiliary Yamud cavalry. By mid-day we were in sight of Chatte itself, with its signal and look-out station, precisely similar to that at Tchikislar, and surmounted by the Russian flag, towering above the whity wilderness around. Beyond Chatte, and across the plain to the southward, we could see ranges of low, rocky hills — spurs thrown off by the Persian mountains. The name Chatte, which signifies in Turkish a fork, implies that it is situated at the junction of the river Atterek with its tributary the Sumbar, which has its rise in the Akhal Tekke mountains. Chatte is one of the dreariest places imaginable. It is a moderately-sized entrenched camp, occupying a kind of peninsula, bounded CHATTE.— ATTEREK AND SUM BAR. 47 on two of its sides by the steep earth cliffs forming the sides of the Snmbar and Atterek respectively, and on the third, or western side, by a number of ravines and spaces of earth, honeycombed by running streams, which effectually protect it in that direction. In fact, it can only be entered by making a long detour to the northward, and then to the south, so as to avoid the many pitfalls around, and gain the narrow causeway which leads to its only available entrance. At the time of my visit the garrison consisted of two battalions. The heat was intense ; and the ceme- tery, not far off, and ominously large for so small a garrison, spoke in eloquent terms of the unhealthy nature of the locality. Fully eighty feet below, in the midst of their tremendous ravines, ran the canal-like streams of the Atterek and Sumbar, at this time shrunk to comparative threads of water, all white with suspended marl, and almost undrinkable from the quantity of saline matter held in solution. This salty water, as well as the entire absence of vegetable food, seems to explain in a sufficiently satis- factory manner the disastrous prevalence of scorbutic affections among the troops and garrison at Chatte. Myriads of flies rendered life unbearable by day, as did gnats and mosquitoes by night ; and the intense heat, aggravated by the simoom-like winds sweeping across the burning plain, made Chatte anything but a desirable abiding-place. 4 1 would ten times rather be sent to Siberia than left here any longer,’ I once heard an officer of infantry exclaim to one of his newly-arrived comrades. Indeed, were not some other goal in view, it would be hard to imagine why life and gold were squandered in securing the possession of such a hideous wilderness. As I have stated, during our two days’ journey from Tchikislar we had not an opportunity of seeing the Atterek until the moment of our arrival at Chatte ; but as on 48 ALONG THE ATTEREK. another occasion I followed its banks from near the point where it forms its delta up to its union with the Sumbar, and as I do not intend again to recur in detail to this par- ticular portion of the Trans-Caspian plains, I cannot do better than here subjoin the diary which I kept on the occasion alluded to, and which will give an accurate idea of the course and nature of this stream, about which so much has of late been said and written in connection with the Russian advance in Central Asia and the question of the Russo-Persian frontier. I was accompanying a battalion of troops, escorting a large train of provision and ammuni- tion waggons, which was proceeding to Chatte, and which, occupying seven days in transitu, were compelled, in order to secure a constant water supply for the horses, to follow the very edge of the river. 4 September 80, 1879. - I reached the station of Bouyun Bache this evening, after thirteen hours’ march across a singularly barren expanse of desert. The battalion es- corted a convoy of some hundred waggons laden with stores for the army, and was obliged to adapt its rate of marching to that of the heavy-laden, badly-horsed arabas. The soil of the desert ceases to be sandy ten miles from the Caspian shore. It is a heavy white loam resembling pipeclay, and, owing to the recent heavy rains, the wheels of the vehicles sank deeply, an occasional wag- gon sometimes sticking fast for twenty minutes before it could be disengaged. The horses’ hoofs were laden with great masses of adhesive mud, which in no slight way im- peded the march. I myself dismounted for a time, but was shortly obliged to give up walking, the mud masses attached to my boots making me feel like a convict with cannon-shot chained to my heels. Slowly as my horse plodded his way through the sticky mire, he made rapid progress in comparison to the main body, and at length I LOST IN THE DESERT. 49 pushed forward alone for our halting-place. In half-an- hour I was far out of sight of the column. Around, the miry waste was studded with bunches of wild sage, and a kind of plant of the botanical order crassulacece (in Turcoman chir atari), which even my Turcoman horse refused to crop. My sole companion was an Armenian servant ; but he having, when leaving Tchikislar, indulged in too much vodka with his compatriots, took fright at the sight of half- a-dozen tall bushes which he supposed to be so many fierce Tekke horsemen, and I found myself alone in the desert. My only guide was the telegraph line to Asterahad, but there was a certain point at which I should diverge to the left. This point I could not distinguish, and so naturally I went astray. Night falls rapidly in the desert, and it was with no pleasant feelings that I vainly stretched my glance through the gathering gloom for some glimpse of a camp fire to indicate the station of Bouyun Bache. At night, especially when it is a starless one, to hesitate for a moment, to let your path deviate but a degree from the true course, is to lose the road hopelessly. Such was my case, and, recognising the situation, I made up my mind to wait for dawn where I was. I dismounted and lay down in the damp loam, trying to compose myself to sleep. An hour passed, and a faint bugle note came across the night air. I rose immediately and followed the sound. Then I heard voices singing, and so I stumbled into Bouyun Bache. The column had not arrived, and no one knew when it was likely to do so. It ultimately arrived towards midnight. * The station of Bouyun Bache is situated on a gentle slope beside a marshy lake, surrounded by tall cane brakes, the haunt of wild fowl and wild boars. The lake may possibly be the summer remnant of the Atterek winter inundations, and never thoroughly dries up, for I VOL. I. E 50 RUSSIAN DISCIPLINE. have seen fish and small turtles hooked by the soldiers on its banks. During the summer heats the district is ex- tremely feverish. A company of infantry is permanently camped here ; no cavalry save the daily Cossack patrols. The principal use of the post seems to be the holding in check of the Persian Turcomans at present occupying the winter pastures of the Atterek delta, and who have of late engaged in hostile descents on small Russian convoys going to Chatte. * October 1. —We left Bouyun Bache an hour before daybreak this morning, en route for our next halting- place at Delilli. I had spent hut a wretched night, trying to shelter from the heavy rain under a waggon. Hot as the days still are, the nights are wretched, and one welcomes the scalding hot weak tea which is invariably forthcoming at every halt if there he any possibility of lighting a fire. At the moment of starting I witnessed an example of the rather rude system of discipline occasionally enforced in the Russian service. The advanced guard, consisting of two companies, had fallen in, and were about to be sent off in advance of the first detachment of waggons. The major commanding the battalion noticed some awkwardness and confusion as the men took their places, and by way of see- ing who was in fault, immediately ordered them to go through their facings. An unfortunate sergeant appeared not to be well up in his business, and bungled at every step, going exactly where he ought not to go at a given moment. I saw wrath gathering in the major’s eye, and in another instant he dismounted from his horse, took off his overcoat with the greatest deliberation, handed it to his orderly, and then, providing himself with an exceedingly heavy horse- whip, beckoned to the unlucky sergeant to come towards him. The man, like his comrades, was, notwithstanding the rawness of the early dawn, dressed only in a light linen DELILLI. 5 * tunic. When he stood to attention before the major, the latter proceeded to belabour him with all his might ; and so rigid is the discipline of the Russian army, that the man dared not even run away or attempt to defend himself from the tremendous plaited leather thongs that went twisting around his all but naked shoulders. The beating, which lasted half a minute, terminated, the major restored the whip to its owner, put on his overcoat, and again mounted his horse, not a single remark having passed the lips of anybody. ‘ The sergeant took his place again in the ranks as if nothing had happened. Our march to-day has been a slow, dragging one. As usual after the first couple of hours’ march, lingering along with the heavy-laden waggons, we were obliged to halt during half-an-hour to let the horses rest a little. At mid-day we had another halt, this time of over two hours, to cook dinner. It was close on sunset ere we reached Delilli, our halting-place for the night. There is no dwelling-place or camp of any kind. A wide marsh, partly covered with immense reed growths, reaches away to the Atterek, part of whose flooded delta it constitutes — like our last evening’s halting-place, very unhealthy, the air reeking with the smell of decaying organic matter. Bent, the point at which the Turcomans dammed up the river to ton it further south, is some versts further on. ‘ October 2. — A little after leaving our last station we commenced crossing an undulating country seamed with immense rugged gashes, torn in the earth by winter rains. Four Turcoman guides rode some hundreds of yards ahead, carefully picking out practicable ground for the immense waggon train, which, when possible, advanced in three columns, and so avoided straggling, but sometimes was obliged to pass certain spots in single file. In this latter case the rearguard remained till all had passed, lest a 52 GUDRI. sudden swoop of the enemy might be made. I remarked great numbers of sepulchral tumuli scattered over the plain, some very large, other smaller ones grouped in their vicinity ; some evidently very ancient, others marking the resting-places of Russian and Turcoman soldiers dead only a few months or even days before. About the middle of our day’s march we began to remark palpable signs of the presence of the Atterek itself, streaks of verdure and un- usually tall bushes making their appearance far off on the righthand side. About four in the afternoon, turning by a sweeping path to the right, we arrived on the banks of the river. We camped in a wide level piece of ground, which gave evidence of being, under favourable circumstances, more or less of a pasturage. It was now, however, cropped quite bare by the great trains of cattle and horses which were continually passing. Above us, on two gently swelling hills, in an angle of the river, were camped two squadrons of Cossacks ; for this point, at which the convoys pass, is quite close to the winter pasturages of the Turcomans on the Persian bank. It is at this station, named Gudri, that the banks of the Atterek suddenly assume that precipitous canon-like form which they preserve up to and beyond Chatte. Immediately below Gudri they vary in height from three to seven feet; above it they suddenly rise to fifty or seventy feet. At the lower level, and on the south- ern bank, the ground partly enclosed by the numerous and very tortuous sinuosities of the river is densely overgrown with brushwood and tamarisk, the latter sometimes attain- ing the height of eight or ten feet. The antelope, wild hoar, and colon, or wild ass, frequent the locality in great numbers. I saw some scores of large black hawks wheeling high in air. I believe they subsist on the mice which abound, and on stranded fish. The most objectionable frequenters of the place are scorpions and enormous BAIT HADJI. 53 tarantula spiders. The latter, known here as the falang, or perhaps phalange, is as large as an ordinary mouse, of a chocolate colour, marked with black stripes and patches. One is obliged to look carefully into one’s coat sleeves, boots, &c., before dressing, lest some of these ugly and really dangerous creatures have found lodging there. They fre- quent the tents and kibitkas, where the flies gather largely, and seem to be most active at night, especially when a camp fire or candle has been lit. ‘ October 8. — Eeached Bait Hadji at sunset, after a fatiguing but very instructive march, during which the desert presented a completely new appearance, and indicated the vast difficulties of transport in autumn and winter, as well as in summer. We got into movement at about half- past four o’clock, the morning being very dark. The ground, too, was in many places so heavy that considerable deviations from the usual track had to be made. At first the desert presented the usual appearance — a white earth ex- panse dotted with bunches of scrub. Not a single blade of grass of any kind. Towards seven in the morning there were a couple of light showers ; and the soldiers, who wore them white linen blouses and blue calico summer marching trousers, were obliged to run hastily to the waggons for their grey greatcoats. At length rain set in steadily, and it was with difficulty the troops could drag their mire-laden feet along. In expectation of hot dry weather they had doffed their heavy long boots, and wore instead linen rags tied round the foot and leg in the Italian peasant fashion, a leather sole or tight shoe being added. In fine weather this system is well adapted to marching. Now, however, the rags became saturated with muddy water, and from the enormous quantity of adhesive earth sticking to his feet each soldier had the air of a North American Indian wearing snow-shoes. They laid their saturated greatcoats 54 DIFFICULT MARCHING . aside, preferring walking mid the downpour in their light linen blouses to carrying unnecessary and useless weight. The arabas and great four-wheeled fourgons, some drawn by four horses all abreast, were usually one-third the wheel’s diameter buried in the soil through which they slowly crept, usually halting every ten minutes. The rain kept on steadily, and by ten o’clock in the forenoon, far as the eye could reach, was an expanse of water, broken here and there by slightly raised undulations of ground and tufts of brush. I had gone over this ground in the early summer, and, crossing the then scorched and burning waste, could never have imagined such a spectacle as the desert under water. Close as we were to the river, there seemed to be absolutely no surface drainage, the water lying motionless around. By mid-day the soldiers were mid-leg deep in water ; and the waggons, often down to the axle, had to be forcibly spoked forward by the men. The camels alone seemed to get on at nearly their usual pace, though they splashed and slid about a great deal with their great splay feet, and groaned and grumbled even more than ordinarily. ‘ When the time for the two hours’ halt arrived it was impossible to make soup or tea, for the usual fuel — the generally scorched-up sage brush — was saturated with water, and no dry spot could be found for a fire even if fuel were forthcoming. To start again seemed impossible ; hut, as a night’s halt in such a place was out of the question, and would hardly better matters in the morning, we again set out, the front and rear guard men picking their way across the slime like so many flies over a treacly surface, and the waggons, urged slowly forward by the combined efforts of men and horses, resembling a fleet of barges crossing a marshy lake. During all this misery the troops were most cheerful, singing and laughing as they YAGHLI OLUM. 55 waded along or spoked the waggons through the mud. I know it is a generally received opinion at home and else- where that Eussian soldiers are kept up to their work by the distribution of unlimited rations of vodka. On the occasion to which I allude they certainly had no stimulants given them, nor have I ever witnessed the distribution of any to the soldiers. Yet, neither during that day’s wet march, nor afterwards, was there a single case of illness arising from those twelve hours’ continuous hardships. Towards sunset we neared the flank of a long escar-like sand ridge, where some drainage existed, and the ground, though cut up by deep channels, was still, on the whole, much firmer. Our night’s camping-ground, Bait Hadji, is on the slope of a high earth-swell overhanging the Atterek bed. The place was entirely without garrison, and we found there only some two dozen waggons halted during the return journey to Tchikislar. On the top of the earth slope is an ancient turbe, or saint’s tomb, partly earth and partly stone, where the individual from whom the name of the locality is taken is interred. Around are many large tumuli. The river bed, or rather the immense ravine through the midst of which the deep, narrow, canal-like water channel winds, is here nearly half a mile wide and seventy to ninety feet deep, the vertical flanks being torn into a thousand rugged and fanciful pinnacles. £ October 4. — Yaghli Olum, the fifth station from Tchi- kislar, is directly on the river’s edge. It was formerly occupied by two companies of infantry — now it is deserted, an old redoubt alone marking the camp. To-day, unlike the preceding one, was extremely hot and dry, and the greater portion of the journey was on dry firm ground. Great quantities of bones and offal of all kinds lay about, on which over one hundred vultures and other large birds were preying. The river scenery here is imposing, but 56 NEARING CHATTE. the water is exceedingly bad, quite as white as milk with suspended marl. In fact, one would think that the tea or coffee made with it were mixed with milk. At this season, too, the water is more strongly impregnated with saline matter than earlier in the season, and is very unwhole- some. The desert on both sides of the river is bare and arid, without a shred of vegetation. The first Persian hills lie southward, about six or seven miles off. Up to their slopes everything is utterly barren. ‘ October 5. — Another very hot day’s march without incident to Tekindji, the last station before Chatte. The river banks steeper than ever. Wild pigeons in abun- dance. At night troops of jackals come shrieking into the very midst of our camp. In view of the absence of troops along the line, and of the bulk of the army beyond Chatte, a sudden attack by cavalry from the northward being possible, great military precautions were taken, a com- pany of skirmishers moving far out to observe the approaches. ‘ October 6. — Being within twenty versts of Chatte I rode on quickly before the convoy, and arrived at my desti- nation at about eleven o’clock. Between Tekindji and Chatte is a large deep ravine, crossing the road at right angles, and which must be very difficult of passage in wet weather. Close to Chatte I met troops of hundreds of camels, led by Yamud Turcomans, slowly making their way to Tchikislar, for provisions and general stores.’ Such are the notes I jotted down along the way just as I wrote them. It will be seen that at times the desert becomes impassable at certain places, for other reasons than want of water. The route which I have described, and which during the dry season is the only one practi cable between Tchikislar and Chatte for wheeled vehicles, horses, and troops, becomes entirely closed during three BED OF ATTEREK. 57 or four months of the year, (November, December, Janu- ary, and February), owing to the flooding and softening of the ground. What I have seen of the Atterek at different seasons leads me to believe that even as far as Chatte it is entirely useless as a means of water transit. In autumn it is shrunk to a miserable, muddy ditch, at some places not over eight feet wide, and almost everywhere fordable to horses. That it occasionally assumes more respectable dimensions is evident from the various water-level marks on its banks. It must sometimes have a depth of over twenty feet, and an average width of thirty, without overflowing its regular channel, which is cut as even as that of any canal, winding in the centre of a vast ravine, with vertical sides. At places this ravine has a breadth of three quarters of a mile. On neither the north nor south shores is the Atterek available for irrigation purposes, the great depth to which it has cut its bed precluding such a possibility. Hence the entire barrenness of the desert on either side, reaching from the commencement of its delta to over a hundred miles above Chatte. The extreme percentage of sediment makes its water unfit for human consumption without filtering or deposition ; and for the supply of camels and horses it has to be fetched with great labour by zigzag steep paths cut in the huge earth cliffs of the ravine from the centre channel to the plain above. As a frontier line the Atterek has the advantage of being, except at its delta, exceedingly well defined and unmistakable. Were its depth at all seasons so great as to render it unfordable, that, taken in connection with the depth and steepness of its ravine, would render it as well a formidable harrier to the incursions of hostile nomads. As it is, its use from a military point of view, and that of its confluent the Sum- 58 LAZAREFF'S OLD REGIMENT. bar, is simply that of a water supply of the main line of communication between Tchikislar and Chatte. On the evening of the day of our arrival at Chatte, the irrepressible old General, notwithstanding the fatigues of the journey, was on his legs again, reviewing the old regi- ment to which he had formerly belonged, and in which he had once served in the capacity of sergeant — the Shir- vanski. When the requisite manoeuvres had been gone through, he called forward the 10th Company, that in which he had once served in a humbler grade of military life. He recalled to them the glorious feats performed by the regiment in the Caucasus during the old Circassian war, reminded them of his having been a non-commissioned officer in their ranks, pointed to the crosses upon his breast, and told the soldiers that by gallantly doing their duty each one might aspire to the position which he himself had gained. Tremendous cheers followed this harangue, and, as an inevitable result, the contents of a cask of vodka were distributed to the men, in which to drink to the health of the Commander-in-Chief. After two days’ experience at Chatte, I felt quite of the same mind as the officer who had said that he would rather be sent to Siberia than remain there any longer, for be- tween heat and flies by day, and mosquitoes by night, I never passed such a miserable time in all my existence. There was a curious feature about the officers’ aladjaks at Chatte. They were paved with large square tiles, a foot broad, which had been brought some thirty miles, from a place called Dusolum, situated higher up the Sumbar river, the site of a former town, but now desolate and bare as any spot which I have described. In view of the domed edifices and extensive foundations, spreading far and wide, there can be no doubt that a populous community once flourished there. Now, owing to the fact that the river CAUSE OF BARRENNESS . 59 has cut its bed low down in the marly soil, and that irri- gation is impossible, civilisation has perished from the spot. Yery possibly, too, Zenghis Khan and his hordes had something to do with laying waste what are now trackless solitudes. 6o A TALK WITH LAZAREFF CHAPTER IY. KBASNAVODSK. Lazareff s opinion about Tchikislar — Difficulties of traversing desert — Chasing ■wild asses and antelopes — 4 Drumhead ’ dinner — A Khivan dandy — Desert not a sandy one — On board ‘ Nasr Eddin Shah ’ corvette — En route for Krasnavodsk — Gastronomic halt — Zakouska — Kussian meal — Arrival at Krasnavodsk — Description of place — Distillation of sea-water — Club — Caspian flotilla — Lieutenant Sideroff — An ex-pirate — Trans-Caspian cable — Avowed object of Akhal Tekke expedition — Colonel Malama’s explana- tion — A Trans-Caspian ball — Khirgese chiefs — Caucasian horsemen- - Military sports — Lesghian dancing. I will not trouble my readers with the details of the return journey from Chatte to Tchikislar, which was almost precisely similar to the first journey. General Lazareff had satisfied himself as to the state of his advanced posts, and had made a reconnaissance as to the nature of the ground. This done, he resolved to return to the western Caspian shore, and, provided with the information which he had gathered, take the necessary steps to meet all exigencies before finally committing himself to a forward movement into the heart of the enemy’s territory. We stayed but a few hours in the camp at Tchikislar, during which time I had much conversation with the old general. We spoke at length about the eastern Caspian sea-ports, and canvassed the relative importance of Tchikislar and Krasnavodsk ; the latter being the earliest Russian settle- ment on that side of the sea. He seemed altogether in favour of Tchikislar, notwithstanding its execrable anchorage. In his view the banks of the Atterek afforded BACK TO TCHIKISLAR. 61 the only available route to Southern Central Asia. ‘ Tchi- kislar,’ he said to me, ‘ will one day play a great part in the destinies of Central Asia.’ At this period, the cable from Baku to Krasnavodsk had already been contracted for, but there was a question as to whether it should not be lengthened, and one station be at Tchikislar. From the moment that the 4 Nasr Eddin Shah ’ anchored three miles off the coast, and I became aware of the nature of the anchorage, I had made up my mind that Tchikislar never could be an emporium between the Trans-Caspian and the opposite shore. I hinted at this to the General, but he smiled and nodded his head as if to imply that he entirely understood the situation, and I conceived that engineering works of great magnitude would probably be undertaken to render the place available for serious embarkation and dis- embarkation. It would have needed much to do this, and time has shown that my appreciations of the moment were correct. Tchikislar has been abandoned for Krasnavodsk, the military Bussian settlement near which the Trans- Caspian railroad has its western terminal. I was not sorry to find myself at the sea-shore again, for the backward journey had, if possible, been more dis- agreeable than the forward one. In the middle of one of the stages, the horses of the General’s carriage, broken down by the rapid pace at which we were proceeding, had foundered, and we had to leave them behind us, gasping on the dusty plain. To replace them, Cossacks of the escort were ordered up. Each horseman, taking one of the ropes which served as traces, placed it under his left thigh, held the extremity in his hand, and then galloped forward with the surviving horses of the team. Even though the men were frequently relieved, we got on but slowly, and our journey back had been far more tedious than the one to the front. Utterly tired out with sitting in a troika , I ex- 62 DRUM-HEAD SUPPER— A K HIV AN DANDY. changed places with a Cossack, who, doubtless, was glad to get into the vehicle, and who, with his officer’s permission, gave me his horse. The advanced guard, now that all danger was over for the moment, amused themselves with chasing the wild asses and antelopes which constantly came in sight as we topped some undulation of the ground, the horses seeming to enter into the sport quite as thoroughly as their riders, though we never had a chance of coming within shot. One of my last reminiscences of this journey was having supper with General Lazareff and his second in command, General Lomakin. We sat upon the edges of three drums, and bayonets stuck point downwards in the ground served us as candlesticks. In our company was the Caravan Bashi, a Khivan, whose dress merits description. He wore a silk tunic, of the brightest possible emerald green, with lavish gold embroidery; sky-blue trousers, of semi- European make ; a purple mantle profusely laced ; and, contrary to all Mussulman precedent, his fingers were covered with massive rings of gold. A gold- embroidered skull-cap was stuck upon the back of his head, and, perched forward, the brim almost upon the bridge of his nose, was a cylindrical cap of black Astrakan, which allowed almost the whole of the elaborately decorated skull-cap to be seen behind. As I have mentioned, the plain, or rather flat valley of the Atterek, is exceedingly dreary and desolate, but it must not be understood as being in any sense of the word a desert, as we speak of the sand-strewn wastes of Arabia Petrea. The ground is excellent, and, if it be to-day in the condition I have depicted, it is only because water is not available. I have no doubt that if some enterprising engineer, under happier auspices than those existing at the time I visited the ground, were to construct dams upon the Atterek and Sumbar rivers higher up, near their sources, NAVAL ILLUMINATION— ZAKOUSKA. 63 so as to bring the waters once more back to the Trans- Caspian steppes, we might again see the fertility and prosperity amidst which were reared the walls and domes which now stand ghastlily amid the waste. We arrived in Tchikislar about six o’clock in the evening, and I hoped to obtain a good night’s rest, so far as such was consistent with the presence of great red-bodied, long-legged mosquitoes, but to my dismay an aide-de-camp announced to me that I must be ready to go on board the ‘ Nasr Eddin Shah,’ the steamer which brought us over, at nine o’clock the same evening. We were to proceed, he told me, to Krasnavodsk. Ear out to sea the yards of the ships were gleaming with lamps, for the naval officers had got up an illumination in honour of the commander-in- chief. The man-o’-war’s boats took us half a mile out from shore, where we were met by a small tender, a kind of tug-boat, which conveyed us on board the war steamer. At ten in the evening, when Lazareff and Lomakin, with their respective staffs, had come on board, we got under weigh. At half-past eleven we came to a sudden halt, for which I was at a loss to account, as we were going steadily. I soon discovered that we had run in as close to land as was prudent, and let go the anchor in order that Lazareff and his staff might take supper undisturbed by the qualms of sea sickness. We mustered pretty strongly at table. The General, who was especially sensitive to this plague of landsmen, was too sick to take his place with us. There is one peculiarity about a Russian meal of which I may speak here. Immediately before seating themselves the guests proceed in groups to a sideboard, where what is called a zakouska is laid out. Caviare, cheese, pickles, butter, and a multitude of things the names of which I do not know, are placed around in saucers. In their midst stand two bottles, one of vodka , another of balsam . Vodka 6 4 RECEPTION AT KRASNAVODSK . is a kind of rude whisky, colourless as water. Balsam is an alcoholic solution of various aromatic herbs, and of intensely fiery quality. Each person fills out for himself a glass of vodka , flavours it with a few drops of balsam , and, having swallowed the mixture, proceeds to help himself to the various viands around, to such an extent that one would think an after meal entirely superfluous. Then one sits down to a more than solid meal. There is sturgeon soup, thickened with borje, a mixture which can best be described by stating that it is like stiff porridge made from blackish brown oatmeal ; a spoonful of it is mixed up with one’s soup. Then there are cutlets, which, at least on board a Caspian steamer, mean minced meat, massed round a hone, and made to do duty for mutton chops. A Eussian dinner is a long affair, so that I will not enter into further gastronomic details. Kakatinski wine flows freely, and everyone is generally in good humour before he retires to rest. It was eight in the morning when, after having rounded the island of Tcheliken, we cast anchor in the bay of Krasnavodsk, than which no better could be found in the world. It is sheltered on all sides by rising ground, and has a depth of water which allows heavily laden ships of deep draught to anchor close in shore. It affords every protection against the treacherous westerly winds which so often sweep across the Caspian. Nearly the whole of the Caspian flotilla was at anchor, every ship gaily dressed with flags. The shore batteries fired a salute, and all the naval commanders, en grande tenue , came on board to pay their respects to the general. Among them was a Captain Schultz, who spoke English with that marvellous correctness of grammar and accent to be found, apart from the inhabitants of these islands, among Russians alone. Krasnavodsk is literally a town ‘ made to order.’ Every- thing is in the exact place that it should be in, from the KRASNAVODSK— DISTILLATION OF SEA-WATER. 65 long rows of colonnaded villa-like residences on the margin of the bay, to the Governor’s palatial mansion, symme- trical rows of barracks, and the orthodox Russian church in the middle of the great square. Krasnavodsk means, in Russian, ‘red water.’ In Tartar its name is Kizil Su. The Turcomans, for one reason or another, call it Shah Kaddam, ‘ the footmark of the King.’ It is purely and simply a military colony. Three battalions occupied the place when I visited it. It is surrounded by an embattled wall, the ramparts mounting half-a-dozen field guns. A semicircle of scorched-looking hills forms a curve to the northward, each extremity of the arc resting upon the sea- shore. It would be impossible to conceive anything more bleak or desolate-looking than the scarped, scraggy cliffs of rose-coloured alabaster which face the town. Did it lie in the bottom of a volcano crater, the barrenness and dryness could not be greater. The natural water of the place, very limited in quantity, is absolutely unfit for human use. The position of the town had been fixed upon for strategic reasons, and as drinkable water was a necessity it has been supplied by artificial means. On the sea- shore, close to the extremity of one of the two piers, is an establishment for the distillation of sea-water. The wood fuel is brought, at an enormous cost, from Lenkoran, on the opposite Cas- pian shore. The distilled water is supplied regularly to the troops, and the few civilians within the place can obtain it at a trifling cost. Later on I dare say that engineers, by digging wells to an extreme depth, may possibly procure water fit for human consumption. In this regard as well as in all others connected with the sustaining of human life, Krasnavodsk is an entirely artificial place, and I must only suppose that in maintaining a military colony there the Russian Government attaches much importance to this particular position. VOL. 1. F 66 CLUB-PUBLIC GARDEN. As I have already stated, the surroundings of the place are desolation itself. There are no resources whatever within hundreds of miles. Flour and other necessaries come from Baku, and wine, beer, and spirits are sold at a preposterous price. As is usual in even the tiniest and newest Bussian military settlement, an extensive club- house is conspicuous at the upper end of the town. Here is a bar, looked after by a canteen sergeant, and a ball- room floored with wood mosaic, which in dimensions and style would not yield to many an older and more westerly town. Here, once or twice a week, is a gathering of the officers of the garrison and their wives and families. A military band plays in front of the terrace, and the even- ing is passed in the midst of gaiety and amusement that we should little expect to find in a desolate, rock-bound spot on the north-eastern Caspian shore. There has been an attempt at creating a public garden ; but, owing to the nature of the soil and to the natural water, nothing save a few scrubhy-looking tamarisk-bushes have been able to hold their own in the midst of the sandy soil and the scorching sun-glare. The greatest care is necessary in order to foster even these few bushes, which would look faded and miserable beside the most withered furze-bush that ever graced a highland mountain- top. Beyond the hills which guard the town stretches the boundless, weary desert, death and desolation written upon its scorched face. There is as yet no town clock, but a soldier of the guard on duty beside the wooden church in the centre of the great square, each hour pulls at thp bell-rope the neces- sary number of times. Apart from this, the bells have but little rest. The Bussians are notoriously fond of bell- ringing, and as the Muscovite Easter happened to occur during my stay, I found that during that period scarcely CASPIAN FLOTILLA— SIDEROFF. 6 7 ten minutes elapsed between the different soundings. In the well-sheltered bay, and close in shore, were half-a- dozen Eussian war-ships, which, as I have already men- tioned, were decked out with flags in honour of the General’s visit. These vessels are of about the dimensions of middle-sized Channel service steamers, and are armed with four to six twelve-pounder guns each. They were originally set afloat to check the piratism of the Turcoman maritime populations, for up to ten years ago the inhabi- tants of the eastern Caspian littoral acknowledged no central sway whatever. Now that all this is at an end, and the sea is practically a Eussian lake, the war-vessels serve only to represent Eussia, to convey troops and mili- tary stores, and to aid in keeping up postal communica- tions. In the early days of Eussian naval enterprise in these waters, there were many exciting scenes in connec- tion with the chasing of the Turcoman luggers which were in the habit of carrying off Persian slaves from the southern Caspian coast. I once crossed the Caspian on board the Ural war-steamer, commanded by Colonel of Marine Sideroff, who, at the time of the occurrence which I am about to relate, was a lieutenant commanding a small corvette. Not far off the mouth of the Atterek he sighted two lodkas containing a number of Persian captives in transitu for the slave markets of Khiva and Bokhara. Lieutenant Sideroff fired a shotted gun athwart their bows, and made them bring to. He transferred to his ship ten captive Persians. The luggers were manned by seventeen Turcomans. Then the lieutenant withdrew a little, and, putting his vessel at full speed, ran down both the slave ships. Seventeen pirates perished. After this example piracy entirely ceased, and the addition of new war-ships to the Caspian flotilla rendered its revival impossible. For this prompt, and, as it proved, salutary act, the Shah of 68 MOULLAH DO URDI— FORTIFICATIONS. Persia conferred on M. Sideroff the decoration of the ‘ Lion and the Sun/ of the second class. M. Sideroff is now an old man, and the anecdote I relate I heard from his own lips, as he sat at the head of the table on board the Ural war-steamer, which he commanded. The same even- ing he told me anecdotes about a certain old Moullah Dourdi, a renowned pirate of the Caspian littoral. He was a famous corsair, and his name carried terror with it. I had previously made the acquaintance of this gentleman at Tchikislar and elsewhere, and on those occasions had not the least notion of what he had been. At the time of which I now speak he was one of the principal commis- sariat contractors for the Eussian camp ; and to see him now, with his long robe of blue broadcloth ; his coffee- coloured trousers of European cut ; his European shoes showing immaculately white stockings ; his black fur shako, a trifle less gigantic than those of his compatriots ; and his well- cut face of grave though kindly expression, few would dream of what his antecedents had been. Though the fortifications of the town are in themselves but trifling, against a Turcoman attack they might be ac- counted impregnable. A loopholed wall of brick, flanked by square towers armed with field guns, surrounds the settlement. At the date of its foundation a number of German colonists were introduced here, and one is occa- sionally somewhat startled at hearing the Teutonic language flowing glibly from the tongue of an individual brown as an Arab, and wearing the genuine Turcoman or Khirgese dress. I have entered so far into details about Krasnavodsk partly because it is comparatively unknown, and yet des- tined to play an important part in the future history of Central Asia ; and partly because I wish to have done with the place and enter into other matters more nearly con- nected with the title of this book. There is a postal OBJECT OF LAZAREFF’S EXPEDITION. 69 steamer once a week to Baku, and despatches can occasion- ally be sent by a war-ship starting on Government business. Two years ago the laying of the cable from Baku to Krasna- vodsk was successfully accomplished, so that every day, for intelligence from Europe, the people of the settlement are no worse off than any other denizens of the Bussian Empire. At this point in my narrative I cannot do better than give the substance of a conversation which, on the occasion of a ball given by General Lomakin, the then Governor of the Trans-Caspian district, I had with Colonel Malama, the chief of Lazareff’s staff, and with several of the superior officers- They were explaining to me the motives of the expedition against the Akhal Tekke Turcomans, and the ends which it was desired to secure. ‘ Krasnavodsk, having no raison d'etre of its own, was founded specially as a maritime emporium of trade with Khiva, and Central Asia generally, in connection with the proposed railway from Baku to Tiflis, and that already exist- ing from the latter town to Poti, whence Persian and other merchandise is conveyed by steamer to Odessa and other Black Sea ports. Khivan and other merchants have already crossed the Kara Koom (Black Desert) with their caravans, to Krasnavodsk ; but so often have they fallen a prey to forays of the independent Turcoman hordes of the interme- diate districts that commerce by this route has long since entirely ceased, and goods coming to Bussia from Khokand, Tashkent, and districts bordering on China, are sent by the longer hut more secure route of Fort Alexandrow and the Sea of Aral. The Turcomans who interrupt trade and carry on a systematic brigandage on every side, seizing in- differently Bussian and Persian subjects, as well as their neighbours to the eastward, and retaining them as slaves, or holding them till ransomed, inhabit the district known as 7o OBJECT OF LAZAREFF’S EXPEDITION. the Tekke country. Its western boundary is close to the eastern Caspian shore, its eastern frontier is ill defined, and it stretches from the Persian frontier as far north as Khiva. These Tekke Turcomans are a most untameable, predatory race, and have existed from time immemorial in the same state of independence and aggressiveness. Their country is a savage wilderness, in which they shift to and fro accord- ing as the pasturage, such as it is, fails, or the wells become dried up. The object of the expedition was to break up the power of these hordes, establish military posts along the line of communication between Khiva and the Caspian, and otherwise guarantee the security of transit in the interior. The readiest means of effecting this would be an expedition direct from Krasnavodsk across the Kara Koom to Khiva, leaving entrenched camps at intervals. To make head against the Turcomans, however, a very large force was necessary, and the direct transit across the “ Black Desert ” for such a force is out of the question. The few wells which exist, situated at intervals of from ten to twenty hours’ march one from the other, are entirely inadequate to supply water for any body of troops over a thousand in number, and the water is moreover of such a character as to be undrinkable by any one save Turcomans habituated to it from childhood. I have often heard of the “ brackish water of the desert,” but I had no idea it was so bad as it really is. It is strongly impregnated with common salt, sulphate of soda, and different other matters. On the stranger it has a strongly purgative effect, producing spasms of the stomach and intestines, and when it has become warm in the casks carried by the camels it is an emetic as well. Diarrhoea, always a serious evil in campaigning armies, becomes here of terrific prevalence. Apart from this lack of water there is no vegetation sufficient for cavalry horses, though camels seem to thrive tolerably well ; R USS O-PERSIAN FRONTIER. 71 and, besides, a direct march to Khiva from this would leave untouched the main strength of the Tekkes, whence a con- tinued war would be waged against the necessarily small military stations, and raids organised against the caravans and convoys passing over the long intervals between them. The first move, then, must be a purely aggressive one, and aimed against the hostile centres of power : the next, the establishment of posts along the route. It was at first intended that the expedition of twenty thousand men of all arms starting from Tchikislar, a little north of Asterabad, and situated on the Persian frontier, should, for the sake of water, follow the course of the Atterek river to Chatte, and thence continue along its banks as far as possible towards Merv, then turning northward and attacking the centre of the Tekke district. With a view to this, negotiations were opened with the Persian Government, for, by the treaty signed ten years ago between Persia and Eussia, though the Atterek was agreed upon as the mutual boundary, it was only as far as Chatte; the Eussian boundary then following the Sumbar river in a north-easterly direction. The negotiations having failed, it had been decided that the expeditionary force should, on arriving at Chatte, make its way along the Sumbar to the Akhal Tekke. The route is a difficult one ; the river water is scanty, and charged with marly clay ; but in any case the supply is better and surer than if the salt wells of the desert were depended on. Besides opening up a commercial route to Khiva and other Central Asian provinces, the expedition had another important object, that of enforcing the acceptance of Eussian paper money as an intermedium of exchange. The Turcomans have little or no coinage of their own, their currency con- sisting of a heterogeneous mixture of Persian, Afghan, and other money, the value of which is but ill defined, and so fluctuating as to render large commercial transactions all 72 TRANS-CASPIAN BALL—KHIRGESE COSTUMES. but impossible. It was proposed, after the happy result of the expedition, to force the acceptance of the Eussian paper rouble ; and, by way of beginning, large contracts were entered into with leading Turcoman chiefs for the meat supply of the army, to be paid for with paper money/ Such was the explanation of the objects of the expedition and its intended route, as given to me by the chief of staff and other military authorities. During Lazareff’s brief stay at Krasnavodsk, the festive gatherings of the officers of the garrison, especially at General Lomakin’s residence, were unintermitting. Dinner succeeded dinner, and hall succeeded ball. Within this period occurred the twenty-fifth anniversary of General Lomakin’s marriage, which he celebrated, as is usual on such occasions, by a ball to the officers of the garrison, and the visitors staying in the town. To this were invited several Turcoman and Khirgese chiefs, who happened to be in the place contracting with the Eussian commanders for camels. Never before had they been eye-witnesses of a European ball, and it was most amusing to see the expres- sion of unconcealed wonderment depicted upon their faces, as they viewed the ladies in ball costume whirling round, in waltz and polka, with the military officers with clanking spurs and sabres. A Turcoman presents a sufficiently droll appearance to the eyes of a European, when seen for the first time, but a Khirgese is a still more extraordinary spectacle. Apart from his fur-trimmed robes, which are not unlike those of an alderman, his general appearance is Chinese. His hat resembles a stunted extinguisher of brown leather, round which is a bordering of lamb’s wool or sable. This is the hat of a magnate. The ordinary Khirgese hat is a very remarkable head-dress indeed. It is like the other, save that at the back and sides it is pro- longed into a kind of cape, a fur border following its edges. GENERAL LOMAKIN—. DAGHESTAN! HORSEMEN. 73 As a rule the Khirgese are the reverse of handsome, and one of the nation wearing his usual head-gear would irre- sistibly remind a stranger of a baboon who had donned a fur night-cap. Towards the end of the evening, or rather morning, supper was enlivened by a very characteristic incident. General Lazareff had proposed the health of his colleague’s bride, and General Lomakin was returning thanks, when from the assembled company burst forth a demand that the old warrior should testify his affection for his partner by embracing her at the head of the table. In the midst of all this merriment the poor old General little foresaw the cata- strophe which was so shortly to overtake him far away under the walls of Yengi Slieher, in the Akhal Tekke oasis. Some- times we had reviews of the garrison, or of the irregular horse passing through Krasnavodsk on their way to Tchikislar, for it was by this route that the entire cavalry arrived at the latter camp. As I have already stated, the water for three miles off the coast is so shallow as to pre- vent a troop-ship from coming within that distance of the landing pier ; consequently horses coming direct to the camp had to be transferred to Turcoman fishing-boats from the transport-ship, then conveyed to within half a mile of the shore, when it was necessary to hoist them over the side, and make them go ashore through the shallow water. At Krasnavodsk, on the contrary, the troop-ship can lie along- side the pier, and the greatest facilities are afforded for the debarkation of cavalry and artillery, which then proceed over land along the coast by Michaelovo to Tchikislar. One evening, as we were lounging on the terrace outside the club doors, General Lomakin afforded us an opportunity of witnessing the peculiar method of fighting of the Cau- casian and Daghestani horsemen who happened to be in Krasnavodsk for the moment. They are natives of the 74 THROWING THE HANDJAR. north-eastern portion of the Caucasus, and are esteemed among the best cavalry in the Russian service. Their uni- form is almost precisely similar to that of the Circassians, save that the Daghestani have their long tight- waisted tunics of white flannel instead of the usual sober colours affected by the Circassian horsemen. Hanging between the shoulders, and knotted around the neck, is the bashlik, or hood, worn during bad weather, and which is of a crimson colour. On either side of the breast are one or more rows of metal cart- ridge tubes, now worn simply for ornament, for I need scarcely say that these horsemen are armed with modern breech-loading carbines, and carry their cartridges in the orthodox regulation pouches, instead of after the fashion of their forefathers. Their sabres are of the usual guardless Circassian pattern, almost Ihe entire hilt entering into the scabbard. Hanging from the front of the waist-belt is a handjar, or broad-bladed, leaf-shaped sword, very similar to the ancient Spanish weapon adopted by the Roman soldiery, or resembling perhaps still more those bronze weapons found upon the old battle-fields of Greece and within early Celtic barrows. These weapons they are accustomed to use as projectiles, much as the North American Indians use their long-bladed knives. On the evening in question, a squadron of these Daghestani horsemen were paraded, in order that we might witness their skill in throw- ing the handjars. A large wooden target was erected, in front of which was suspended an ordinary black bottle. Then, one by one, the horsemen dashed up at full speed, hurling their handjars , as they did so, at the mark. It was intended to plant the point of the knife in the target, so close to the bottle that the flat of the blade should almost touch it. One after another the knives of the whole squadron were thrown, until they stuck like a sheaf of arrows round the mark, and so good was the aim that in no one case would LESGHIAN DANCING . 75 there have been the slightest possibility of missing so large a mark as a man’s body. After this exhibition of skill, the Lesghi, as the Daghe- stani are occasionally called, performed some of their national dances, to the music of the pipe and tabor. Two dancers at a time stepped into the circle formed around them by their comrades. Each placed the back of his right hand across his mouth, holding the elbow elevated in the air ; the left arm was held at its fullest extent, sloping slightly downwards, the palm turned to the rear. In this somewhat singular attitude they commenced sliding round the ring with a peculiar waltzing step ; then, suddenly confront- ing each other, they broke into a furious jig, going faster and faster as the music increased in pace, and when, all breathless, they retired into the ranks, their places were immediately taken by another pair. Occasionally one of the more skilful would arm himself with two handjars , and, placing the points on either side of his neck, go through the most violent calisthenic movements, with the view of showing the perfect control he had over his muscles. 76 AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION CHAPTER Y. KARA-BOGHAZ SULPHUR DISTRICT. Gypsum rocks — 01 jar — Natural paraffin — Post of Ghoui-Bournak — Camel- thorn and chiratan — Large lizards — Ghoui-Sulmen — Nummulitic lime- stone — Salty -water— Method of drawing it up — Effect of washing — Turcoman smoking — Waiting for dawn — Shores of Kara-Boghaz — Search- ing for sulphur — Black and red lava — Kukurt-Daghi — Ghoui-Kabyl — Argillaceous sand — Turcoman and Khirgese horses — An alarm and retreat — Back to Bournak. During my stay at Krasnavodsk, I made the acquaintance of an Armenian gentleman who had come there with the intention of scientifically exploring the neighbourhood, and discovering what its mineral resources might he. He was especially in search of certain sulphur mines reported to exist upon the shores of the Kara Boghaz, the great expanse of shallow water lying to the north of Krasnavodsk. He had succeeded in obtaining from General Lomakin a guard of fifteen Yamud Turcomans, acting as Russian auxiliary irregular horse, and, gathering from some conversation with me that I was interested in geological researches, asked me to accompany him on his expedition. We started early in the morning, and, mounted upon hardy little Khirgese ponies, climbed the horrid-looking, burnt-up ravines that lead through the amphitheatre of hills which guard Krasnavodsk, to the plain beyond. These rocks, as I have said, are of rose-coloured gypsum, though sometimes a blue and yellow variety is to be met with. Once outside the rocky, girding scarp, the Turcoman sahra, here afford- OLD WATER-COURSES— ' MINERAL WAX . 1 77 ing an unusually luxuriant supply of coarse bent-grass, reaches away in one unbroken tract to the banks of the Sea of Aral. Here and there it is furrowed by great shallow ravines, their sides overgrown with tamarisk — odjar, as the Turcomans call it; and from the manner in which they run into each other I have little or no doubt that they formed some of the channels by which the Oxus traversed its delta when it flowed into the Caspian Sea. Even still some slight traces of moisture linger about their bottoms, sufficient to produce pasturage for the sheep, goats, and camels daily conducted thither from the town. The Yamud shepherds, perched upon every slight elevation around, kept watch and ward lest a party of Tekke Turco- mans should sweep down upon them and bear both them- selves and their charges into captivity. At the time of which I am writing some four or five thousand camels, destined for the transport service of the Akhal Tekke expedition, were concentrated in the neighbourhood of Krasnavodsk, the greater portion of them having been most unwisely sent to pasture at a distance of some twenty miles from the garrison. Though it was early in the year, the heat of the sun was overwhelming ; and as in the midst of our wild-looking escort we rode across these naked, burned-up plains, I could well appreciate how welcome was the ‘ shadow of a great rock in a weary land.’ Far, far off, on either hand, loomed, faintly violet, some minor hills, which, my com- panion assured me, were replete with mineral treasures, especially with a very pure kind of natural paraffin, or mineral wax ( osocheryte ), as it is commonly called. Apart from the stray camels and flocks, the only living things to be seen were huge spotted lizards, who stared eagerly at us as we went by, and tortoises, crawling about over the marly surface, nibbling away the stunted chiratan around them. 78 GHO UI-BO VRNAK. It was two o’clock in the afternoon as we reached the Russian military post of Ghoui-Bournak, some sixteen miles distant from Krasnavodsk, and situated in the midst of a desolate plain. It consisted of a small rectangular redoubt, garrisoned by two companies of infantry and about twenty-five Turcoman horse. It was a frightfully desolate spot. There was absolutely nothing in the scenery on which the eye could repose itself after gazing over the illimitable wastes. Still, the garrison and their commander looked healthy and happy enough, owing, doubtless, to the cheerful insouciance and light-heartedness which characterise the ordinary Russian, and which serve him so well in a soldier’s career. The captain shared with us his not very luxurious meal of dried Caspian carp and almost equally dry sausage, washed down by the never- failing glass of vodka, and then we again started on our forward journey. It was about five o’clock in the afternoon as, utterly overcome by the heat, we drew bridle for a short repose. There was abundance of scraggy, scorched-up vegetation around, in the shape of camelthorn and chiratan, but not a drop of water was to be had save what we brought with us in our leather sacks. Our halt was but a short one, for it was impossible to sleep, or even to rest, in the scorching heat of the sun, though none of those pests of the east, flies, were present — the spot was too inhospitable even for them. Though the country was for the most part bare and desolate, it was strangely accidented by shallow ravines, which were, indubitably, old watercourses, along whose bottoms and sides bushes of various kinds grew thickly. We varied the monotony of the journey by racing, and dangerous work it was, for the ground was everywhere burrowed into by great chameleon-like lizards — sometimes two feet long — and every now and then a horseman came to grief, owing to his steed involuntarily thrusting a leg into GHOUI-SULMEN— SALTY WATER. 79 one of these pitfalls. At ten o’clock in the evening we reached a kind of basin, situated in the midst of low hills, if I may call elevations of fifty feet or so by that name. This basin might have been a mile and a half across. Near its centre were half-a-dozen wells, which gave the place the name of Ghoui-Sulmen. Each well was surrounded by a low parapet of yellowish-grey nummulitic limestone, and close by the mouth stood a couple of rude troughs of the same material. The workmanship of these was of the rudest description, and I have no doubt, from the present condition of affairs on these plains, and the utter absence of public enterprise, that these traces of man’s handiwork must be of great antiquity. The water lay at least forty feet below the level of the well-mouth, and could only be procured by being fished up in the nose-bags of our horses, let down by the united tethering-ropes of several of the party. This water was execrable in the extreme. I under- stand that it contains a large percentage of sulphate of soda and common salt ; but whatever be the matter which gives it its peculiar taste and flavour, it is very nauseous, especially when it has become heated from being carried in the leather bags in which water is stored during long journeys in these parts of the world. It then becomes emetic, as well as strongly purgative. Coming from the great depths at which it lies beneath the soil, it is icy-cold when brought to the surface, but even then it is intolerable to any one who has been accustomed to different water elsewhere. Not being able to drink, I tried to assuage my thirst by bathing my face and hands, but I soon discovered what a mistake I had made, for when the moisture had evaporated I found the surface of my skin covered with an extremely irritant saline matter, the eyes and nose especially suffering. The Turcomans prepared their tea with this water, and seemed to enjoy it, though after the first mouth- 8o A NIGHT HALT— PRIMITIVE SMOKING. ful I was obliged to cease drinking. The horses were watered by the contents of the nose-bags being poured into their troughs, but, as at least one-half of the water escaped through the porous sack while it was being hauled to the surface, the supplying of twenty horses with sufficient to satisfy their thirst, after our long and trying march, was slow work. We collected enough withered scrubby plants and roots to keep up half-a-dozen camp fires, around which our escort gathered, their horses being tethered close to them. I tried to put up my tente d’abri, but found that the pickets would not hold in the loose marly soil, so with my friend the geologist I was compelled to encamp a la belle etoile, like our neighbours the Turcomans. I tried in vain to sleep, for the irritating saline matter which my attempt at washing had lodged in my eyes, nose, and ears, rendered any effort in that direction quite unavailing ; so I lay awake during our halt, gazing out into the solemn starlit silence of the desert, where not even a movement like that of the horizon-girded waters or the murmur of a ripple broke the unearthly stillness. Glimmering camp- fires shed fitful gleams upon the swarthy features and strange tuft-like hats of the Turcoman escort, bringing out all kinds of Eembrandt-like effects as they sat conversing around- for notwithstanding our fatiguing ride they did not seem in the least inclined to take any rest — or indulged in smoking after the curious fashion which they adopt on such expeditions as the one which is now being described. The Turcomans rarely smoke anything but a water-pipe, or kalioun, as they call it, but as this is too cumbrous an article to be carried about on horseback, a simpler expedient is resorted to. An oblong steep-sided hole is dug in the ground, some five inches wide, and a foot deep. Some red-hot charcoal is taken from the camp-fire, and placed in the bottom of the cavity. A handful of tumbaki , a coarse THE KARA-BOGHAZ. 81 kind of tobacco used in these regions, is thrown in, and the smoker, kneeling beside the hole, places his expanded palms on either side of his month, stoops over the orifice, and inhales the fumes of the tobacco, mingled with air. Three or four whiffs from this singular smoking apparatus seem quite sufficient for the most determined smoker among them, and I am not surprised at it. I nearly choked myself with the first when I tried it. When I first witnessed this method of smoking I was some distance off, and as the tobacco smoke was too faint to be noticed, I was under the impression that the Turcomans had somehow or other discovered water, and were engaged in drinking. We broke camp about half-past one, and continued our journey towards the shores of the Kara-Boghaz (Black Gulf), on the borders of which lay the sulphur mines which it was the mission of my friend to explore. The stars gave but feeble light, and as the edges of projecting strata now began to make their appearance the road became so dan- gerous that after two miles we were obliged to halt again and wait for dawn. As the sun was rising we found our- selves on the margin of a vast creek reaching inland from the Kara-Boghaz. The waters lay still and death-like, and the entire surroundings were more lifeless and ghastly than any I had hitherto witnessed. Not even a bird of any de- scription was to be seen, far or near. To reach the level yellow shore at the water marge it was necessary that we should scramble down the almost vertical face of the cliff, some sixty or seventy feet in height. It was composed of terraced layers of whitish-yellow stone, similar to that which I have described as being found at the well-mouths ; in some places tossed and tumbled in the wildest possible confusion. Dismounting from our horses, and leading them by the bridles, we proceeded to scramble, as best we could, down the cliff, being often obliged to hold on by the VOL. i. G 82 KUKURT-DAGHI— SULPHUR 1 POCKETS: tamarisk bushes, and at last reached the shell-strewn beach below. Following the strand in a north-easterly direction, we reached a ravine which pierces the cliffs in an easterly one. This was the spot of which we were in search. It is called by the Turcomans the Kukurt-Daghi, or Sulphur Mountain. My friend commenced his search immediately, for there was not a moment to be lost. We were on very dangerous ground, and where the unfriendly nomads were frequently to be found encamped preparatory to one of their forays in the neighbourhood of Krasnavodsk. Strewn around were fragments of black and red lava, and the en- tire place bore unmistakeable signs of a more or less recent volcanic disturbance. Lumps of sulphur were to be found in every direction, and here and there were nodules, em- bedded between the stone layers, and in the indurated beds of detritus. Though we found tolerably large ‘ pockets,’ however, nowhere could we discover any real vein. There was no considerable deposit of the substance — at least, such was the opinion of my friend, the geologist. After an hour and a half’s search, we mounted for the return jour- ney, and I was not sorry to leave the spot. The following brief extract from my note-book, written at the time, will express what I thought of the place : — ‘ Kukurt-Daghi. An hour after sunrise. A cursed-looking place. Hideous de- solation. Not a drop of drinkable water anywhere.’ The waters of this Kara-Boghaz, which is an immense expanse almost entirely shut out from the Caspian, with which it is connected only by an exceedingly narrow strait, are an almost saturated solution of various sea-salts, mingled with an excess of sulphate of soda. No fish of any kind can live in them, and, as I have said, not even a solitary crow could be seen along its horribly desolate shores. It would be no inapt subject for the study of an artist engaged upon some landscape which was in itself meant to convey an FRESH-IVATER WELLS. 83 utter abnegation of life. After an hour and a half’s examination of the sulphur deposits we rode back without further rest to the Sulmen wells, partook of some dry bread and salty tea for breakfast, and were able to sleep a little before the fierce midday sun put an end to our rest. We took a new route on our return journey, and, riding across a country exactly similar to that of which I have spoken, two hours before sunset we got into a sandy, undu- lating area. The tamarisk bushes grew high and close, and were even mixed with a peculiar kind of osier. This infallibly denoted the presence of water. We were, in fact, at the Ghoui-Kabyl, or sweet-water wells, the only place in the whole district where such a thing as really drinkable water is to be obtained. Here, again, the wells were so very deep that the nose-bags and tethering ropes had again to be put into requisition. The sweet water was welcome indeed. To me it seemed nectar after the burning thirst of so many hours. No one who has not been similarly placed can fully appreciate the force of the poet’s words, ‘ The first sparkle of the desert spring.’ One thinks him- self passing through another phase of existence when he actually feels the cold water trickling down his parched throat. Our evening meal was as scanty as before. We had bread and water, but considering that the latter was fresh, the meal was a welcome one. We washed the salt from our hands and faces, and then, finding it utterly im- possible, for the same reason as at the last halting-place, to put up our tent, lay down to rest upon the soft, yielding sand. This is the only place where anything like sand has come under my notice in these deserts. It is argillaceous, not silicious, and, unlike the latter, when moistened turns into mud. So fine is it, that when grasped in the hand it escapes between the fingers, notwithstanding every effort to retain it. Streaks and patches of it are to be found in all 84 KEEPING WATCH— QUARRELSOME HORSES. directions, and I apprehend that they represent the beds of ancient watercourses. A bank of this yielding substance afforded as comfortable a couch as the softest feather bed, for it adapted itself perfectly to the form of the sleeper, and was entirely free from saline particles. I am unable to understand the phenomenon of these three or four sweet- water wells existing in the midst of the desert, where all the other water to be found is of the nature of that which I have described as obtaining at Ghoui-Sulmen. As usual, several camp fires were lighted, for the pre- paration of the inevitable tea, without which no true Central Asian or Russian can get through a day’s journey. The fires smouldered dimly around us, for the Yamuds were too cautious to allow a blaze to be seen in such a place. As before, they did not go to sleep, hut sat crouch - ingly around the fires, chatting to each other. The horses, each tethered by one fetlock at the full extent of its tethering- rope, ran round in circles, screaming at and trying to kick each other. I have remarked this peculiarity about Turco- man horses, that while towards human beings they are the gentlest and most tractable of creatures, among themselves they are the most quarrelsome that it is possible to imagine. There is a second peculiarity which I may as well mention here. On these steppes two principal varieties of horses are found — one the long-legged Turcoman, the other the stout Khirgese, which latter closely resembles an overgrown and extra- shaggy Shetland pony. Turcoman and Khirgese horses invariably fraternise, and live together on the kind- liest terms, and I do not recollect ever having found an exception to this rule. Notwithstanding the noise which the horses were mak- ing — and it was very aggravating, when after the fatigues of the past two days we were trying to snatch an hour’s repose -I was sinking gradually into slumber. A calm AN ALARM AND RETREAT. 85 seemed to come over the bivouac, and everything appeared tranquil. I turned over on the sand to make myself com- fortable, when I became aware that an unusual agitation prevailed among the ordinarily calm and taciturn Turco- mans. They were whispering eagerly together. I raised myself upon my elbow, and looked round. Some were hastily saddling their horses, and before I had time to de- mand the reason of this proceeding, several of them came hurriedly up to where myself and my friend lay. There was something wrong, they said. The horses were sniffing the wind, with necks outstretched towards the east. Either strangers were approaching, or there was some other encampment near, and if this latter were the case, the encampment could only he a Tekke one. We held a council of war, and decided that the most advisable course to adopt was to move on immediately. Sand was heaped upon the camp fires, horses were rapidly saddled and packed, and, like a party of spectres, we stole silently away. Several Turcomans, with the apparently innate perception of locality, even in the dark, which is acquired by the habits of life of their race, led the way. For myself I had not the faintest notion towards what point of the compass we were directing our steps. During half-an-hour we forced our path among the bushes, and gained open ground. Four Turcomans were thrown out to reconnoitre in the supposed dangerous direction, and, anxious though I felt over the situation, I could not help wondering how they would ever find their way hack to the main party, in view of the intense darkness, for a mist had veiled the thin lustre of the stars which had hitherto lighted us on. We rode as fast as the nature of the ground, with its lizard- burrows and old watercourses, would permit, and it was not easy to grope our way across all these obstacles. In an hour we were joined by the reconnoitring party. They 86 BACK TO BO URNAK— CAPTAIN TER-KAZAROFF. reported a large camp to the eastward. They estimated the number of its occupants at some hundreds, and be- lieved they could be no other than Tekkes, inasmuch as no friendly force could possibly he in that direction at that particular hour. It was curious to note how these Yamud Turcomans feared their congeners the Tekkes. Only a few years previously both were banded together in common hosti- lity to the invading Muscovite. A few years of Eussian domination on the East Caspian littoral had transformed the former not only into friends, but into allies, and thrown them into the balance as a make-weight against their wilder Eastern brethren. The sun was well above the horizon as we sighted several hundreds of camels browsing, on a rising ground, on the scanty herbage, and tended by some scores of Khir- gese nomads. We hastily communicated to them the news of the proximity of the Tekkes, and rode forward, as swiftly as might be, after our protracted journey, towards the Bournak post, which we reached about two hours after sunrise. We reported our intelligence to the Commandant, Captain Ter-Kazaroff, who took the necessary precautions for the safety of his redoubt by placing men at the parapets, for he had not the slightest idea of what was coming, or that the Tekke horsemen would dare to execute the coup which they were preparing. He then proceeded to entertain us most hospitably, for it appeared that during our absence a provision convoy had arrived. He gave us wine, vodka , and ham, refreshment which we much appreciated after the starvation and fatigue of the preceding forty-eight hours. A RAPID MUSTER. *7 CHAPTER VL A TURCOMAN RAID— A VISIT TO TCHIKISLAR. ‘lomak^^ P redicam “t-Eetiring on to TchikiXT Wittgenstein Cossack lieutenant's sto ry -Off I had. Slept a couple of hours at the shady side of the Captain s tent, and was in the act of making some notes of the days adventures, when scouts came galloping up in a adlong fashion with the news that the Tekkes were ad- vancing in force, and that not a moment was to be lost if the camels were to be saved. Notwithstanding that a bolder post like that of Bournak is constantly on the alert the rapidity with which the men were got under arms was surprising. The captain rushed from his tent, the bugle sounded, and in less than two minutes after the alarm the first company was moving to the front at the double As the day was exceedingly hot, the men marched in their snrt sleeves— at least I suppose it was on account of the heat; m all probability an order to that effect had been issued, as everyone in the company was without his coat. The irregular Yamud cavalry, some fifteen in number together with the Khirgese shepherds, were driving in the 88 TEKK&S IN VIEW— A PREDICAMENT. camels, which could not, however, be got to accelerate their usual slow and dignified pace. Owing to this fact, many of the Khirgese were cut down by the foremost Tekke horsemen. I believe that in all there were about four thousand camels. So rapid was the preparation that the captain had not even time to load his revolver, and I lent him mine for the occasion. The promptitude with which he marched to the relief of the camel drivers was beyond all praise. Within ten minutes after the departure of the first company, the second, in reserve, marched with the camels carrying the spare ammunition, leaving only half-a-dozen men to garrison the redoubt. The first com- pany was scarcely five hundred yards distant from the parapets when the leading Tekkes appeared in sight, gallop- ing along the summit of the long undulation of the plain, and in a few minutes many hundreds of them were in view. Some affrighted Khirgese drivers who came in said that the greater number of their companions had been killed, a large proportion of the camels taken, and at least two thousand sheep swept away. They reported that the Tekkes were at least two thousand strong, and that a large number of them were horsemen, the remainder being infantry mounted upon camels and asses. Firing had already commenced, and myself and my friend were sorely puzzled as to what course we should pursue. The position, for us, was an exceedingly difficult one. I much desired to go forward and witness the skirmish, but the condition of our horses, after two days’ hard riding, with little or no food save the few handfuls of corn which we had in our saddle-bags, rendered it excessively dangerous for us to proceed into the press of combat, especially as it was as likely as not that the slender Russian infantry force would be compelled to retreat, even if it were not annihilated. In the latter case, and with our jaded horses, we were A HASTY RETREAT. 89 certain to be captured, and mutilation, if not death, would have been our portion. To await the result of the fight in the redoubt, with its few defenders, was equally precarious, for in the event of the Tekkes being victorious they would have little difficulty in overwhelming the few men who remained behind. To retreat was fraught with danger also, for as the Tekkes were in great force a party had probably been detailed to cut off communication with Krasnavodsk. Further, as they seemed for the moment to be retiring before the two companies of infantry, we thought it best to make good our retreat, while there was yet an opportunity, as fast as our fatigued horses could carry us. Our baggage was rapidly packed, and we retired as swiftly as we could. Half a mile to the south of the post of Bournak is another reach of ground commanding an extensive view over the plain, and from this, though at a -pretty long distance, I could, with the aid of my field glass, follow the movements of the Tekkes. It was not easy, however, to make out which way the combat was going, for the entire plain was covered with groups of horsemen, and it was impossible to detect to which side they belonged. Once outside of the protecting parapets of the redoubt, our most prudent course was to make the best of our way to Krasnavodsk. Our worn-out horses took at least three hours to cover the eighteen miles which intervened between us and that town. I had serious reason to believe that a turning movement would be attempted, this being a favourite Turcoman tactic ; and we were more than once scared by the appearance of groups of horsemen, driving camels and sheep befo *e them, and spreading all over the plain between us and Krasnavodsk. If they were enemies it was useless to attempt to escape, so we pushed on, and found that we had been alarmed by the shepherd popula- 90 LOMAKINS ADVANCE— MILITARY PRECAUTIONS. tions, who were hastily retiring on the town with all their flocks and herds. The panic was universal, for the news had spread that the Tekkes were in very great force indeed. The heat was terrific, our horses were rapidly failing us, and I was in a general state of weariness. We entered the rocky circle of hills which shuts off Krasnavodsk and its immediate surroundings from the plains, and as we debouched from one horrid gorge, with its gaunt cliffs of burnt red rock, we met General Lomakin, the commander of the town, advancing with all his available forces. He had a battalion of infantry, several squadrons of Khirgese lancers and Cossacks, and one field gun. He could not, in the whole, have had less than twelve hundred men. I very much wished to turn back and accompany the advancing forces, but the condition of my horse rendered such a proceeding entirely out of the question. I had a short conversation with the General, explained to him all I knew about the situation, and once more pushed on to Krasnavodsk. I found the garrison under arms upon the ramparts, and the artillerymen standing by their guns. The naval officers on shore had been hurriedly summoned on board their respective war-ships, and everything showed that a serious attack was deemed possible. As I entered the town the people crowded round me, anxiously question- ing me as to what was the matter, and where the General and his troops were going. A little later I met one of the Yamud horsemen who had formed part of the escort of myself and my Armenian friend. He gave it as his decided opinion that we must have been under the direct protection of Allah as we got off from the Ghoui-Kabyl that morning. Had we remained an hour longer on the spot, he said, we should certainly have been captured by the Tekkes. I was really very much knocked up by the ex- pedition. The heat, want of sufficient food, salty water, RESULT OF SKIRMISH. 9i and, above all, the absence of sleep, had quite prostrated me, and I find in my note-book the following entry, which is very descriptive of the situation : — ‘ I am very ill, and my back is nearly broken. My nose is almost burned off, and my breeches are torn from hard riding. I must go to bed.’ My readers may be curious to know what the upshot of the whole affair was. I give a brief account, as taken from the lips of various persons who w T ere present at the engage- ment. The Tekkes gave battle twenty-five versts beyond Bournak, losing fifteen men killed. The Russians lost four irregular horsemen. The Tekkes captured some hundreds of camels, but could only carry off about two hundred of the swiftest. They were also forced to leave the captured sheep behind them. The captain of the Bournak post did not venture with his slender force to pursue the enemy further. General Lomakin, on his arrival at Bournak, halted for the night, and on the next day re-commenced the pursuit. The enemy retreated before him, occasionally halting within a circle of captured camels, which they made to kneel down, using them as a rampart, and firing over their backs. Occasionally the range was only fifty yards. They fired, from their smooth-bore muskets, spherical leaden bullets, split in four pieces, and wrapped in paper. These missiles are admirably adapted for use on horseback, and inflict very uncomfortable wounds indeed. In the end they withdrew so far into the desert that the General thought well not to follow them any further. The Russian loss on this occasion was four men killed and twelve wounded. One dead soldier was discovered with six sabre gashes on his head, his nose had been cut from his face, and he had undergone other mutilations. A woman who had been captured by the marauders, but who slipped through their hands, said that they sacked several aoulls 92 CONCILIATION OF TURCOMANS. (villages), carrying off women and children and murdering the men. Thus ended the first of the series of combats with the independent Turcomans which culminated in the capture of their strongholds at Geok Tepe and the conquest of the Akhal Tekke tribes. These same tribes, who fought so fiercely against the Russians but three years ago, have now, to all appearance, become as much their obedient servants as the Yamuds of the Caspian littoral, who but seven years previously were themselves among the fore- most opposers of Muscovite aggression. Few governments like that of Russia would know how to conciliate these newly conquered Asiatic peoples ; as an example of this I may mention that there are many Turcomans who are already decorated with the cross of St. George. This cross, which is of silver, and in form not unlike the Victoria Cross, ordinarily bears on a central medallion a ‘ George and the Dragon.’ The Turcomans objected to receive a decoration bearing a strictly Christian emblem, and accord- ingly a number of crosses were manufactured especially for them, bearing a double-headed eagle instead of a ‘ George.’ The Turcomans are under the impression that this strange- looking fowl is a cock, as they themselves often told me. This cross, charged with a ‘ cock ’— as well as neck medals hung by variously coloured silk ribbons — has been largely distributed among the reconciled nomads. Two days after my arrival at Krasnavodsk, I witnessed there the obsequies of three of the four regular troops killed in the skirmish beyond Bournak. The fourth, being a Mussulman, did not share in these ceremonies. They took place within the wooden church standing in the centre of the square. Like most Russian church-singing, the chant- ing on this occasion was exceedingly sweet, and the rites were of the most impressive character. All the officers MILITARY OBSEQUIES. 93 and most of the soldiers of the garrison were present, each one holding a slender lighted taper in his hand. When the coffins were about to be closed, each of the comrades of the deceased came forward to kiss the foreheads of the corpses, at the same time dropping a few grains of rice into the folds of the shroud. A sergeant then approached, and placed across the brow of each a slip of gilt paper, on which was written some inscription which I could not decipher. The coffins were then closed, and carried outside the church. A procession, headed by military music, was formed, and marched to a distance of about two miles outside the town, and around a rocky promontory to the cemetery. The ‘ pope ’ of the garrison, with long dark robes, violet velvet ‘ toque,’ and silver- tipped staff, walked beside the coffins. The interment concluded, the three customary salvoes were fired by a squad of the battalion to which the deceased had belonged. The dead Mussulman soldier was buried far apart, on the bleak hill-side. As we turned again for Krasnavodsk, I noticed, at intervals, many an old earthwork and trench, with an occasional soldier’s grave, surmounted by its lonely wooden cross, marking the gradual progress of the Eussian arms from the first settle- ment within the Krasnavodsk hills to the present outlying stations. Immediately outside the walls was quite a colony of soldiers’ wives and children, and camp followers of one kind or other. They were not allowed to occupy ground within the place itself, for in Krasnavodsk the dwellings are either barracks or the quarters of officers and their families. It is only in the bazaar, as one of the great squares is named, that any civilians are to be found, and these are traders from Baku. The people who live outside the walls inhabit semi-subterranean houses like those of the Armenians to which I have previously alluded. I remained at Krasnavodsk up to the first of May, 94 TCHELIKEN ISLAND— A MUD VOLCANO. awaiting a definite move on the part of the expeditionary forces. In the interim I made a trip to Tchikislar on board the ‘Ural’ war- steamer. During this excursion I had a good opportunity of examining the island of Tcheliken, with its steep seaward marl cliffs, stained by the black flow of naphtha which has gone on for ages pouring its riches into the unprofitable bosom of the Caspian. On one of its highest portions is one of the tall, sentry-box looking objects which stand over the petroleum wells worked by Mr. Nobel, the enterprising capitalist of Baku. Not far from it is the turbe, or monumental tomb of a celebrated Turcoman saint, which attracts many pilgrims from the mainland, and serves as a landmark for shipping a long way out to sea. Nearing Tchikislar, one catches sight of the huge cone of Demavend, the mountain which overhangs Teheran, hovering like a gigantic white triangular cloud above the southern horizon. Some versts north of the camp, and four inland, is the mud volcano known to the Turcomans by the name of Ak-Batlaouk. This is in a state of constant activity. It presents the general appear- ance of an oblong mass rising abruptly from the plain to a height of some hundreds of feet, and made up of a series of truncated cones of whitish-yellow colour. The craters on its summit emit sulphurous vapours, and occasionally over- flow with boiling mud. It is generally in a condition of extra activity immediately before the occurrence of one of those numerous earthquake shocks which are experienced all along the eastern and southern Caspian shores. It is doubtless an evidence of the widespread volcanic action which within a recent period, geologically speaking, has raised the Turcoman plain beyond the reach of the waters, and which is doubtless still in progress. Though tradition speaks of the bed of the Oxus having been shifted from the Caspian to the Sea of Aral by human agency, I am very A DIFFICULT LANDING. 95 much inclined to think that the gradual elevation of the Caspian littoral had more to do with the change. On May 8 we cast anchor off Tchikislar, and, on account of the extreme shallowness of the water, had the usual difficulty in getting ashore. The steam-launch took us w T ithin fifteen hundred yards of the extremity of the impromptu pier. When we could go no further in this we hailed one of the numerous Turcoman luggers ( lodkas ), which, crowded with the former occupants of the steam- launch, had scarcely made fifty yards when her keel began to scrape against the bottom. She . took us within three hundred yards of the pier, and within about eight hundred of the shore. Then a kind of raft was brought out, the soldiers, a little over their knees in the water, pushing it. This also got aground, and we were obliged to change into a number of small canoes, dug from single tree trunks, and termed tdimuls, in which we managed to get so near land as to be obliged only to splash on foot through fifty yards of surf and wet sand. This will give some idea of the diffi- culty of landing horses, cannon, or any heavy material. On this occasion the extra shallowness was due to the winds being partly off shore, and forcing the water westward in the same manner that it is forced inland eastward when the wind prevails in an opposite direction. One could scarcely believe how very gradual is the deepening of the water, and the long distance out at which a person may wade. I have seen bathers up to their arm-pits, apparently not very far from the horizon. Tchikislar, which I understand is now almost deserted, was, at the time of which I speak, in all its glory. Several thousands of men were under canvas, the cavalry to the north, the infantry to the south of the original sand redoubt and signal station. Between them, and southward of the fort, were a couple of streets of hastily-constructed wooden 96 COMMISSARIAT PREPARATIONS. houses, erected by the Armenian and Eussian sutlers and general dealers, who invariably accompany the march of any considerable force. These dealers were doing a brisk business, charging enormous prices for every article which they sold. Without a single exception, each one of these establishments, if not primarily intended as a drinking shop, supplemented its other business, whatever that might be, by the sale of vodka and other spirituous liquors. Further southward, along the shore, were the commissariat and slaughter houses ; and not far off, somewhat inland, immense piles of grain sacks and mountains of hay began to rise — the commencement of the accumulation of stores for the supply of the troops about to march to the interior. The immediate environs of the camp were in a disgracefully filthy condition, Eussian commanders seeming, in this regard, singularly careless, and neglecting the most ordi- nary sanitary precautions. As a consequence, much sick- ness prevailed, and the hospitals were full. Attracted by the filth and fostered by the intense heat, myriads of flies clouded the air on every side. In the little wooden ‘ shanty ’ where I found a lodging, each movement conjured up a perfect storm of flies, and at night the air was thick with red mosquitoes, which, however, fortunately did not sting very severely, or else existence would have been impossible. At no hour of the day or night were these winged pests absent. There seemed to be relays of different species of them for each section of the twenty-four hours, which regularly relieved each other. I have often had my notes rendered almost unintelligible half an hour after they were written, owing to the dense covering of fly-blows upon the paper. A mile to the south of the main encampment, and close to the water’s edge, was what remained of the once popu- lous Yamud aoull of Tcliikislar, which at the time I speak of A TURCOMAN PRISONER— PERSIAN CAPTIVES. 9 7 contained little more than a hundred kibitkas, inhabited mostly by families attached in one way or another to the service of the camp. They fetched wood in their lodkas from Lenkoran, on the opposite side of the Caspian, or from the mouth of the Kara-Su, near Ashurade. I remained only two days at Tchikislar, for besides the landing of corn and forage nothing was being done there. On the evening of the 5th I again went on board the 4 Ural,’ in order to return to Krasnavodsk. We had on board a Turcoman prisoner, who was in custody for having offered armed resistance to the giving up of a Persian woman who had been carried off from the South Caspian shore. In many of the aoulls, even in the immediate vicinity of the Eussian camp, and along the Atterek and Giurgen rivers, large numbers of captured Persian women are still to be found. Many of them, having married among the Turcomans and had families, are completely reconciled to their position, but there are others who retain the desire to visit their homes again. The circumstances in connection with which my fellow-passenger was a prisoner were as follows. At the mouth of the Atterek river is the large village of Hassan Kouli. Detained there as a captive was a Persian lady of good family, who had been spirited away from her home during a Turcoman marauding expedition. After two years, her relations discovered her whereabouts, and made application to the Eussian authorities at Teheran, begging them to restore her to her family. She being detained on what was claimed to be Eussian territory, an order was issued to the officer commanding the naval station at Ashurade, not far off the mouth of the Giurgen, direct- ing him to see that the fair prisoner was at once set at liberty. A Turcoman was immediately despatched to visit her captor, and it was decided by the elders of the village that she he given up in accordance with the demand. Her VOL. 1. H 9 8 A SUMMARY PROCEEDING. former proprietor was furious, and bitterly upbraided his compatriot the messenger for having undertaken such a mission. 4 Don’t you know,’ said he, ‘ that we Turcomans never give up our prisoners ? ’ This was literally the case, for it had always been a rule among the Turcomans, and is so still at Merv, that in default of ransom or exchange the prisoner is never to be surrendered — he or she is massacred on the spot in preference. As the messenger was leading away the liberated captive from the door, her former owner, stepping back into the kibitka, seized his gun, and levelling it at the envoy, fired. It was charged with split bullets, and the pieces lodged in the man’s arm. The aggressor was the prisoner whom we had on board. The relatives of the wounded man declared that if the culprit paid the necessary blood money — eric, as our Celtic forefathers would have styled it — he would be forgiven ; otherwise they would call for justice against him. The Russian officers on board told me that he would probably be sent to some town in the central portion of European Russia, there to reside for three or four years. After having become duly impregnated with Western ideas, and having observed some evidence of the might of Western civilisation, he would be sent back to his home. It is in this fashion that Russia has been able to transfer to far-off regions the influence of her power and resources, which, going before her standards, has often served to open up an easier road to her battalions than they might otherwise have met with. I remained only ten days longer at Krasnavodsk, leading the accustomed life — soirees at the club, dinners at the governor’s, and driving about the neighbourhood. During one of the last excursions I made along the rocky shores of the bay, I was struck by the immense numbers of water snakes which, leaving the sea, had gone long distances inland. I have met snakes of between five and six feet in length, of WATER SNAKES— SUMMONED TO BAKU. 99 a yellow colour mottled with brown, by threes and fours at a time, crossing the scorched gypsum rocks at least half a mile from the shore, and making their way to the water, into which they plunged and swam out to sea. From on board ship I have seen them in the waters of Krasnavodsk Bay — five or six knotted together — floating upon the water in the sun. On May 15 I was sent for by General Lomakin, who informed me that General Lazareff desired to see me im- mediately, and accordingly, on the following day, at one o’clock, I started for Baku, where the Commander-in-Chief was temporarily staying. I took my passage on board a large transport steamer, whose engines were unfortunately not of very great power, so that when we cleared the point of land which guards the harbour against tempestuous winds, and met with a perfect hurricane outside, the most we could do for a long time was to hold our own. We were forced to run under shelter of the Island of Tchelik,en, and wait until the winds had moderated. It was only on May 18, at two o’clock a.m., that we cast anchor under the lee of a small island five hours’ steaming from Baku. The ordinary passage from Krasnavodsk to Baku occupies about thirty hours. Again and again we tried to enter the har- bour, but as often were driven back and obliged to reanchor. It was four o’clock on the morning of Monday when we came alongside the pier. Baku certainly deserves the title given to it by the old Tartars, 4 a place beaten by the winds.’ On the following day I had an interview with General Lazareff, who wished to obtain some unbiassed evidence about the affair at Bournak, in view of the complaints which had reached him from different quarters relative to the want of promptitude of General Lomakin in hurrying to the assistance of the two companies defending the camels. He asked me whether I believed it was not pos- IOO INTERVIEW WITH LA Z A REEF. sible for Lomakin to have pushed on the same evening and followed up the enemy. I have already stated that as I rode in towards Krasnavodsk I met the General in question hurrying forward. I had no other answer to give than that I believed he had acted with the greatest possible promptitude, but that as I was not on the ground on the second day it was impossible for me to say what his con- duct on that occasion might have been. General Lazareff then asked me if I thought that in the coming expedition the Turcomans would offer battle in any considerable numbers. If they did so, he said, it would shorten the campaign, as it would at once enable him to strike a de- cisive blow ; but he feared it would be otherwise, and that they would adopt a Parthian style of fighting. He had sent them a letter stating that they should either immediately express their willingness to become Russian subjects, or else prepare to fight well. They had returned no answer save the raid on Bournak, which he considered as throwing down the gauntlet, and as evidence of the adoption of an irreconcileable policy. It was quite possible that we should have to winter in the Akhal Tekke, and he declared his in- tention not to return until he had accomplished his mis- sion — the ‘pacification,’ as he was pleased to term it, of the district. Further operations depended upon eventuali- ties. Should the Merv Turcomans take part with their brethren of the Akhal Tekke, he would be obliged to move against Merv, but at present he had no definite instructions in the matter. He concluded by saying, ‘ We must do nothing in a hurry ; we have plenty of time before us ’ Baku was fast filling with the expeditionary troops, and in the streets I saw almost every variety of uniform be- longing to the Russian service. Raw levies of the Trans- Caucasian regiments were being diligently drilled in the great squares, and on the esplanade beside the old walls, ASIATIC LEVIES. IOI and though these white-coated soldiers were, as far as arms and accoutrements could make them, members of a Euro- pean force, their physiognomies distinctly stamped them with an Asiatic type. There were Armenians, Georgians, and Circassians united in the same company, and occasion- ally, but only very occasionally, a Mussulman Tartar. Their divisional banners were certainly of a very Asiatic type. One day I was watching a detachment of newly uniformed recruits, who were at drill in the open space opposite the Governor’s palace. When they broke up they separated into various groups, and marched away in irre- gular order, singing to the beating of large drums. With some of the larger groups were square red banners, sur- mounted by an inverted brass dish set round with small jangling bells, and which was bobbed up and down to the time of the singers’ voices. It exactly resembled the apparatus which is borne at the head of a Turkish band in Constantinople, and from the top of which formerly floated the horse-tails which denoted the Pasha’s rank. During my very brief stay in Baku on this occasion, I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Ferdinand Prince Wittgenstein, Commander of the cavalry of the expeditionary force, and of General Count Borch, the chief of the infantry. The former told me that he commanded a division of cavalry at the great battle of the Aladja Dagh, at which Mukhtar Pasha and the Turkish army were overthrown, and that he had had a very narrow escape of being shot by the Turkish Circassians, having ventured exceedingly close to them, mistaking them for his own men, their uniforms being almost precisely similar to some of those who were serving under his command. One of Prince Wittgenstein’s officers, a lieutenant of Kouban Cos&acks, told me an amusing story about the manner in which he had arrived at Baku. Being greatly 102 ADVENTURE WITH DRIVER. pressed for time, and fearful lest the General might depart without him, he was continually hurrying the driver of the troika which brought him from Tiflis, and when within one stage of Baku insisted upon his putting on extra speed, adding threats of the direst kind in the event of non- compliance. The Tartar driver was so terrified by the language used towards him that, leaping from his seat, he rushed nimbly across the country, leaving the gallant officer to conduct the three-horsed vehicle as best he could. This he was compelled to do, and he appeared at Baku, much to the amusement of his comrades, seated upon the foremost edge of his rude chariot, endeavouring to guide the by no means manageable horses. Baku is not at all an agreeable place to stay in, and I was not sorry to receive a notification from the Chief of Staff to go on board the ‘ Constantine ’ mail steamer, to accompany General Lazareff across the Caspian to Tchi- kislar. It was towards evening that, having made my pre- parations, and packed together the stores requisite for a prolonged journey into the interior, I took my seat in a remarkably Parisian-looking fiacre or phaeton , as the Rus- sians style that species of vehicle, driven by a big-hatted Oriental, and proceeded to the pier. General Lazareff, Prince Wittgenstein, General Borch, and Colonel Prince Dolgorouki — the latter attached to the army in some capa- city which we could never understand— came on board. And so I once more turned my back upon the town of Baku, not now for the first time in Russian hands, for it was captured by Ivan the Terrible, the celebrated Czar of Cossack race, in the year 1450. As its crenelated walls faded from view, I could not help thinking of the former phases of the Eastern Question which were associated with those sun-tinted towers and bastions, and how closely they were connected with the latest one. KHIRGESE AND TURCOMANS. 103 CHAPTER VII. TCHIKISLAR SKETCHES — ATTEREK DELTA. JKhirgese and Turcomans at Tchikislar — Cossack and Caucasian horsemen — Peculiar customs with regard to dress — Samad Agha — The Shah’s cousin — Hussein Bey and Kars — Nefess Merquem — Turcomans in Russian service — Camp police — Tailless camels — The knout — Baghdad muleteers —Decorat- ing soldiers— Camp customs — Soldiers’ games — Races — Tchikislar bazaar — Night alarm — The pig and the pipe — Military ideas about Asterabad — Turcoman graves — Bouyun Bache — Foul water — Smoking out the flies — Horse flies — Sefid Mahee — Abundance of fish — -Running down partridges — Waterfowl and eels — Wild boar hunting — Atterek delta — Griurgen — Ak- Kala— A Turcoman and his captive wife — Lazareff’s decision. The ‘ Constantine ’ anchored off Tchikislar on the afternoon of Monday, June 3, as usual nearly three miles off shore, and we had the accustomed difficulty in landing. The arrival of the Commander-in-Chief with his staff, and the presence of some additional battalions which had preceded us, greatly added to the liveliness of the camp ; but with this exception things went on as usual, and I do not purpose repeating what I have already said about the place. One of the most peculiar characteristics of Tchikislar was the presence of very large numbers of Khirgese and Turcoman camel drivers, and of muleteers from Baghdad, who, under promise of high pay, had been induced to abandon their ordinary track between the latter city and Meshed, and to come to the Russian camp for the transport service. There is a very wide difference between the appearance of the Khirgese and that of the Turcomans. The latter are of a more or less slim and wiry figure, with 104 KHIRGESE AND CAUCASIANS. approximately European features. They wear the huge sheepskin hat, and make a very fair attempt at a regular system of clothing. The Khirgese is as quaint-looking, awkwardly- dressed a figure as one could find upon a Chinese porcelain dish — the same impossible eyes, long, narrow, and dragged upwards at the outer corners, genuine Cathay hat, and occasionally an umbrella, which would not be out of place in a procession of stage mandarins ; a shuffling, slovenly, heavy gait, much more ungraceful than the walk of a ploughman. His ordinary garment is a kind of dirty cotton sheet, twisted anyhow about him, or at most a very draggled and tattered linen tunic. In a burning sun he wears as much furry clothing as an Esquimaux. On his head is a movable conical tent of felt, which falls to the middle of his back, and which towards midday he supple- ments by another, and perhaps a couple of horse-cloths besides. Seated on the scorching sand, with his stolid mien, peeping eyes, and strange head-dress, his general appearance is that of one of those squatting Indian deities of a pagoda, clothed in rags and skins. He is much more solidly built than the Turcoman, and, with the exception ot the eyes, bears a close resemblance to the Oozbegs of Khiva. There were large numbers of Caucasian and Cossack horsemen, all in picturesque attire, and looking quite unlike anything we are accustomed to associate with the uniform of a regular regiment. Both Cossack and Caucasian wore tunic-like garments, fitting tightly at the waist, the skirt falling almost to the heels, and made of white, brown, grey, or black cloth. The breast was covered with one or two horizontal rows of silver or brass cartridge cases, according to the rank of the wearer. They all bore the guardless Circassian sabre, the whole of the hilt of which, save the top, enters into the scabbard. The Russian A SINGULAR CUSTOM— THE SHAH'S NEPHEW. 105 officers serving in Asia for the most part affect this style of weapon instead of the regulation sword, carrying it by a belt slung across the shoulder, instead of girt around the waist. There is a trait of character noticeable among the officers of Caucasian cavalry regiments, among the Kabardian officers especially, which is worthy of notice. Each one feels bound to have both arms and belt mounted as mas- sively as possible with enamelled silver ; cartridge-boxes, tinder-boxes, poniards, and other accoutrements being decorated with equal richness. Many, however, regard a new coat, or one that shows no sign of wear, as entirely inadmissible and unmanly, and altogether in mauvais gout . When the dilapidation of a garment compels the wearer to order a new one, he straightway deliberately tears it in several places, and with his knife frays the edges of the sleeve, in order to give it the appearance of having seen service ; and so well is this peculiar taste recognised, that the tailor has been known to send home a new habiliment with the requisite amount of tatters, and with the lower part of the cuff artificially frayed. We had in the camp a hand of irregular cavalry, formerly professional robbers and marauders from the neighbourhood of Alexandropol, who were told off for the special duty of harrying the enemy’s flocks and herds. They were under the command of a well-known brigand chief named Samad Agha, a Karapa- pak. These also affected the same style of dress and arms as the Caucasians. Among those attached to Lazareff’s staff was a dragoon officer who was a cousin of the Shah of Persia. His brother is attached to the Cossacks of the Imperial Guard. Their father, the Shah’s uncle, has been exiled by his nephew, the reigning sovereign, either through some whim, or on account of the fears with which that monarch is troubled anent his own particular dynasty. A short 106 HUSSEIN BEY—NEFESS MERQUEM. time after our arrival there came to the camp, with offers of military service, a certain Hussein Bey, a Turk whose mother has long been known in Europe as an authoress, and whose book upon life in the harem created a sensation some years ago. Hussein Bey himself is the author of several books, among them being one which I saw at Constantinople some time ago, ‘ Les Imams et les Der- vishes ; ’ and shortly after his visit to Tcliikislar he published a very interesting letter in the Temps of Paris, extending over three or four columns, entitled ‘ Comment nous avons pris Kars.’ In this he disclosed the fact that secret correspondence had been going on between his namesake, Hussein Bey, colonel of artillery within the place, and the Bussian camp outside, and that communications were kept up in which he took a leading part. Why the services of this gentleman were refused I do not know, but almost immediately afterwards he left the camp, having, I under- stand, for one reason or another, received a large gratuity from General Lazareff. Another remarkable person who figured in the camp was a certain Nefess Mer quern, a Turcoman chief, and former khan of a large aoull near Krasnavodsk, which had been totally destroyed by a Tekke raid, himself and his son only escaping from the universal carnage. This Yamud elder was charged with the or- ganising and command of five sotnias (five hundred men) of Yamud Turcoman cavalry, to serve against the Akhal Tekkes in the ensuing campaign. This will give some idea of the manner in which the Russians utilise these tribes against each other, and in which they will probably employ their newly-won subjects of Yengi Sheher and Askabad. The police of the camp were under the direction of a Mussulman Armenian from Erivan, whose name I do not recollect. He discharged his functions with great effective- ness. The police administration of a Russian camp is POLICE ADMINISTRATION. 107 prompt and severe, and conclusive evidence is by no means always requisite in order that stringent measures may be put in force against a supposed delinquent. On one occasion a servant of mine embezzled a richly enamelled silver belt which I had bought as a souvenir of Armenia, and refused to restore it. I reported the matter to the chief of police, and the defaulting servant was invited to return the article. He denied all knowledge of it, and was ordered to quit the camp within twenty-four hours, and not to return without permission. A propos of police administration, I saw at Tchikislar an example of what I had been led to believe was abolished in Russian rule — punishment by the knout. Large numbers of Khirgese and Turcomans had been hired, together with their camels, to serve in the baggage train of the expedition. They received a fixed sum per diem for the services of themselves and their animals, and in case of any camels succumbing to the fatigues of the road, or being captured or disabled by the enemy, the owner was compensated to the extent of one hundred roubles in paper for each camel — a sum then equal to about ten English pounds. Many of these people brought with them only the very weakliest of the camels in them possession, know- ing that’ they would not be able to dispose of them at so good a price elsewhere, and took the first opportunity, when on a long journey, to abandon them in the desert. In cases of this kind they were required, in proof of their assertions, to bring in the tails of the camels which were supposed to have died. A party of Khirgese and Turcomans were despatched with material from Krasnavodsk, and directed to follow the shore to the camp at Tchikislar. They abandoned their camels on the w T ay, having first cut off their tails, which they duly brought into camp. LazarefF s suspicions were aroused, and he ordered a party of cavalry to proceed along the track by which the camels io8 THE KNOUT had passed, and to scour the country in search of their bodies. The horsemen came upon the camels, which were calmly grazing over 'the plain, in as good condition as ever they were but for the absence of their tails. The evidence against the culprits was overwhelming, and in order to make an example, and prevent the repetition of this fraud, each was sentenced to receive, upon the bare back, a hundred blows of a Cossack whip. This instrument in no way answers to our idea of a whip. It is more like a flail. The handle is of whalebone or cane, with flat leather thongs plaited round it. The thong of an ordinary whip is re- placed by a similar combination, and united with the handle by means of a stout leather hinge. The delinquents were bound, stretched upon their faces, a Cossack sitting on the head of each, and another on his feet. Their backs were then laid bare, and the hundred blows were inflicted. They were severely cut up, but notwithstanding the suffering undergone, not a single cry or groan escaped their lips. Each seized with his teeth some morsel of his clothing, to pre- vent his exclaiming, and doggedly underwent the punish- ment. Among these people it is considered very disgraceful to allow any amount of pain to wring from one of them any groan or exclamation, and I have been told that the man who exhibits such sign of weakness will not after- wards be able to find a woman to marry him. When 1 happened to observe to a superior officer that I had believed the punishment of the knout abolished in Russia, he frankly replied that it was, but that the General took upon himself to administer this summary chastisement, inasmuch as the men themselves would infinitely prefer it to being sent to prison in Baku, or perhaps to Siberia ; and he was probably right. The Arab muleteers from Baghdad stayed but a very short time in the camp. They were so frightened by the BAGHDAD MULETEERS— TOSSING IN A BLANKET. 109 tales they had heard of the sufferings in the Turcoman desert, and so imbued with fear of the wild Tekke horse- men, that they forfeited the wages paid to them in advance, and retired again to Persia. I understand that many hundreds of Arabs were on the way to Tchikislar, but that they were stopped at Asterabad owing to the repre- sentations made by the British Consul to the Persian local authorities. Some days after his arrival, General Lazareff decorated with the Cross of St. George two soldiers who had distin- guished themselves in the skirmish against the Tekkes at Bournak. The battalion to which they belonged, and another, paraded for the occasion, and the General con- ferred the decorations with his own hand, at the same time presenting each with a money gratification, whether from his own pocket or otherwise I am unable to say. Immedi- ately afterwards I witnessed a singular custom, which appears to be put in force on such occasions. When the ceremony had terminated, the men broke ranks, and the newly decorated soldiers were felicitated by their com- panions, who straightway seized upon them, and placing each one in a tent sheet held by eight stout men, tossed them into the air, repeating this operation with most troublesome rapidity. This was a kind of roughly good- humoured way, in accordance with consecrated usage, of extracting from them a promise to treat their companions to vodka on the strength of the gratuity which they had received. All through the proceedings the greatest good temper prevailed, both among the tossers and the tossed. On the same evening, on paying a visit to a major of Cos- sacks, with whom I was acquainted, I saw an example of the manner in which Russian soldiers occasionally amuse themselves when in these remote places. A stake was firmly planted in the ground, and two ropes, each some ■ iio CAMP AMUSEMENTS— RACING. twenty leet long, were attached to it, the extremity of each being held by a blindfolded soldier, who carried in his right hand a stout piece of rope about three feet long. Holding the ropes extended to their full length, they were placed at opposite sides of the circle which they would be obliged to follow, and the signal was given. Each listened intently, to try if he could discover the approach of his adversary. In case he did so, he fled before him, naturally moving in a circle. If one could steal a march upon the other, he belaboured him with his rope’s end, a dozen blows, I believe, being the maximum number permitted at a time. The performance seemed to delight both the major and the remainder of the spectators. I have re- marked on all such occasions the unfailing good temper with which the severe knocks, often amounting to downright ill-treatment, are received by these soldiers at each other’s hands. In fact, I do not remember having on any other occasion met with an exhibition of so much good nature, under such trying circumstances, as life in the camp of Tchikislar brought under my observation. We had races, too, as well to break the monotony of existence as to test the quality and powers of the officers’ horses, for only officers’ horses were permitted to join in this sport. I have seen Colonel Prince Galitzin and other officers of rank ride their own horses on these occasions, the prize for the winner, given by General Lazareff, being a somewhat curi- ous one — a pound of ice, made by his own refrigerator, for I need hardly say that natural ice was not to be had within any ‘ measurable distance ’ of the camp. Since my previous visit to Tchikislar, a large number of Tartars, Armenians, Persians, and other Orientals had established, in the civilian portion of the camp, that in which was the street of wooden shanties, a regular bazaar, got up very much in the fashion of those of their countries. TCHIKISLAR BAZAAR. hi Large quantities of fruit and vegetables, brought from Lenkoran, or the mouth of the Giurgen, were exposed for sale, and there were many rude booths for the sale of cups of tea, for coffee is a beverage altogether unknown among the general mass of the people in this part of the world. Here is a man entrenched behind several barrels of apples from Lenkoran; there is another whose entire stock-in-trade is a small mountain of pomegranates. This individual, with shaven head and flowing Oriental garments, shrieking in apparent agony, calls attention to his melons, and this other, mourning over the monumental samovar, re- sembling a brass funereal urn, indicates that tea is ready on his scanty premises. A Russian tailor from Baku has set up his establishment in front, and a vendor of earthen teapots from Petrovsk has flooded the ground around him with some hundreds of the articles which he recommends. I call this the bazaar in contradistinction to the main street, or ‘Prospect,’ as it was already dubbed by the soldiers, where the more imposing wooden edifices of the Armenian spirit and grocery sellers were established. A photographer, too, had been added to the commercial ranks, and no less than two watchmakers had opened their booths. It was a most incongruous mixture of Eastern and Western physio- gnomies, dresses, and commodities ; and as an incarnation of the whole I once noticed a Turcoman, in genuine nomad attire, his enormous sheep-skin hat overshadowing the remainder of his person, sabre at side and poniard in sheath, promenading the ‘ Prospect ’ with a Parisian-made silk umbrella under his arm. From the manner in which he carried his new acquisition, he evidently felt that it added no inconsiderable weight to whatever dignity he might have previously laid claim. Among the incidents which varied the general monotony of our lives at Tchikislar were occasional alarms which 1 12 A NIGHT ALERT— A RECONNAISSANCE. occurred by reason of small bodies of Tekke horsemen venturing into close proximity with the camp. One even- ing, about ten o’clock, as I sat writing in my kibitka, I noticed an unusual stir in the neighbourhood of the cavalry quarters. There was a din of arms and ‘ mounting in hot haste.’ Hurrying to head-quarters, I was told that scouts had arrived, announcing the presence of a considerable body of the enemy not far from us. A regiment of Kabar- dian horse was ordered out to reconnoitre. General Prince Wittgenstein took command of the reconnaissance. I got my horse saddled as quickly as might be, and overtook the party a short distance from the camp. The night was very dark, but as the sandy expanse which reaches inland for some miles from the edge of the Caspian was perfectly level, the darkness was of no great consequence, so far as riding was concerned. We rode five or six miles, sending out scouts in every direction, but no trace of the enemy could be perceived. The entire night was occupied in this fashion, and dawn was just breaking as, sitting upon our bourkas, or hairy mantles, we partook of an impromptu breakfast which the general had had the foresight to bring with him. Whether this was a real alarm, or only one of those manoeuvres often practised in order to keep the troops continually on the alert, and accustom them to unforeseen contingencies, I cannot say, but they occurred with sufficient frequency. 1 cannot better conclude the chapter of accidents at Tchikislar than by mentioning an odd incident which befell me there. Among the many singular inhabitants of the place were two who merit special notice. These were a moderate- sized, ordinary looking pig, and a very common looking white dog, with a suspicion of the cur about him. The two were intimate friends, and early each morning set out together to scour the camp in company, calling in turn, in the most intelligent manner, at each tent door, the pig VAGARIES OF A CASPIAN PIG. ii3 grunting, the dog barking, to call the attention of the inmates to their presence. In this way they systematically made the round of the camp, the dog evidently considering himself as having charge of his stouter comrade, and seem- ing to direct the movements of the party ; and when even- ing approached it was evidently he who induced the pig to return to his home. The latter frequently objected to this, and manifested a desire to prolong his strolls into the darker hours, but his companion, taking him by the ears with his teeth, conducted him, notwithstanding his remon- strances, in the direction of his residence. One very sultry day, I was lying upon my carpet on the shady side of my kibitka, trying to write, and smoking a briar-root pipe of somewhat large proportions. With the view of completing a sentence, I took the pipe from my mouth, and laid it upon the sand just outside the edge of my carpet, to avoid the risk of burning the latter. For a few minutes I was entirely absorbed in my writing, but I was roused by a crunching sound beside me, and, turning hastily, perceived my acquaintance the pig, with my briar-root pipe in his mouth — not in the act of smoking, but of eating it. He had already eaten the greater portion of the head, tobacco included, and when I attempted to recover my outraged property he made away across the camp, and it was with the greatest difficulty that I succeeded in recovering its shattered remains. I keep them still, as a souvenir of the peculiarities of Eastern Caspian pigs. During the three long months that I remained in Tchikislar, waiting in vain in the hope that a move in some direction would be made, I had many interesting conversa- tions with Eussian officers on the aspirations of Russia in that part of the world, and, to do them justice, I must say that those aspirations were expressed in the frankest and most undisguised manner. To doubt for a moment that VOL. 1. 1 H4 FRONTIER CONSIDERATIONS. the Atterek, along its entire length from its month to its source, was the recognised boundary between Persia and Eussia, was to proclaim an open heresy ; and I heard one general officer express his regret that Asterabad had ever been given back to Persia. He was drawing a vivid picture of the difference between the situation were we camped for the moment among the shady woods beyond the Giurgen, and our then position upon these bleak and deso- late sands. I believe that the general feeling in the Bussian armies which perambulate this portion of the Empire is that Eussia was too generous by half in restoring that precious slice of territory which includes Eesht and the old capital of the Kadjars, and which they held a little over a century ago, and that they may consider themselves extremely moderate in confining themselves to everything that lies north of the great mountain range reaching away towards Meshed. Though I had seen the Atterek along its length from Bouyun Bache to Chatte, I had not yet had an opportunity of visiting its delta, of which I had heard a great deal, and I took advantage of the departure of a hunting party pro- ceeding in that direction — organised by Prince Wittgenstein, a gentleman to whom I am indebted for a hundred kindnesses — to explore the swamps bordering on the Caspian. We started at three o’clock in the afternoon, when the intense heat had somewhat diminished, and took our way along the shore for a couple of miles, then turning inland in a south- easterly direction. For three hours our path lay across the sandy waste, here and there being half-dried rainpools ; for, strange to say, we had had two or three very heavy showers, a most unusual thing at the time of year. The plain is but a few inches above the sea level, and at a distance of three miles inland we had sometimes to wade half a mile across great shallow expanses of sea-water carried forward by a slight gale. The water at its greatest depth did not A TURCOMAN CEMETERY. 115 reach mid-leg on our horses, and was alive with vast quantities of a large white carp, known by the Persian name of Sefid Mahee, or white fish. The water was evapo- rating, rapidly leaving the sand at its borders thickly incrusted with salt, and strewn with thousands of stranded fish. Even still further inland we saw these fish putrefying on the sand. After four hours’ ride we came upon the first traces of the Atterek. Thick bent-grass grew in abundance in and beside wide shallow channels, at the time entirely dry. Occasionally we had to force our way through dense brakes of bamboo-like reed, nine or ten feet high. Farther on was a large sand ridge, one side apparently scarped by human labour, and crowned by a Turcoman burying- ground. Our destination that evening was an advanced Eussian camp, one of the connecting links between Tchikislar and the open of the Atterek delta. We had evidently missed our way, so throwing out a party of Cossacks to reconnoitre the ground, we halted in the cemetery, which commanded an extensive view over the plain. Night was rapidly falling, and as we had little hope of recovering the lost track before morning, we preferred to pass the night where we were. In the midst of the little plateau crowning the eminence on which we stood were two turbes, tombs of local saints. They were simply circular roofless structures of unbaked brick, some twenty feet in diameter and twelve in height. In the inner surface of the wall were half a dozen rude niches, meant to contain votive offerings. In the centre of each structure was a kind of altar-tomb, about three feet in height by eight in length. On this was placed the skull of the wild desert sheep, with its enormous circularly curled horns. The skull of this animal is a usual sepulchral ornament among the Turco- mans. The ordinary tombs of the cemetery were such as I shall have occasion to describe in recounting my experiences n6 MOSQUITOES— BOUYUN BACHE. at the village of Hassan Kouli — wooden poles, old boxes, and articles of household use. Here and there a scraggy hush growing beside a grave was covered with fragments of rag attached to its branches, pieces of broken porcelain and earthenware being scattered round its base. To enable our scouts to find their way hack to us we lighted a large fire of old boxes and poles, which were lying about on the highest part of the plateau. No sooner did the light appear than we were assailed by myriads of gigantic mosquitoes, attracted by the blaze. They were the worst of their kind I had ever met with. We were stung even through the linen tunics and trousers we wore, and in five minutes our hands and faces were masses of tumefied bites. My left eye was completely closed. The horses, too, suffered terribly, one of mine becoming altogether disabled for several days afterwards. We had to retire a long way from the fire before any peace could be obtained. I believe that a serious attack of these insects would prove fatal to any ordinary animal. It was past eleven at night before the shrill, far-reaching cries uttered by the Cossack escort met with any response. Then away across the plain came similar sounds in reply, and soon afterwards we saw a star-like signal light, far, far away. An hour’s ride brought us to it. It was a large lantern borne on the top of a pole by a mounted man, and was visible for miles away above the undulations of the plain. We had reached our halting-place for the night — Bouyun Bache— a scattered camp of two hundred men on the borders of a lake-like expanse of water. This latter, I was told, was a rainpool, but its great size and depth, together with the fact of its being bordered by dense growths of cane and hush, induced me to believe it per- manent. All around are channels, some natural, others probably irrigation canals, and the lake is probably only A FOUL STREAM. 117 for the moment insulated, being, as I believe, part of the irregular system of watercourses by which the Atterek reaches the sea across its wide flat delta in the rainy season. Next day we retraced our steps towards the cemetery, and after a couple of hours’ journey, always in a south-easterly direction, arrived at the aoull, or village, of Gouili, con- sisting of over four hundred kibitkas, concentrated in two distinct groups. Here for the first time I saw a channel containing water proceeding from the Atterek, and actually attaining the sea near the southern borders of the Hassan Kouli lagoon. It was impossible to say whether it was natural or artificial, probably it was the latter, for in seasons of great drought a stream of water is turned and returned, divided and subdivided, for irrigation purposes, or to supply cattle. The small populations of adjacent villages often quarrel and fight about the right to turn a stream. With the exception of the shallow expanse of water just mentioned, this channel supplying the village of Gouili was, at that season, the most northerly vestige of the Atterek close to the coast. The Turcomans state that during the winter the other dry beds crossed by us on our way from Tchikislar were plentifully supplied with water. The supply at the village was scant and bad. The stream, if I may so designate such a meandering line of foul water, with no apparent current, had an average width of from twelve to fifteen feet, and was nowhere over knee deep. Its bed was slimy and noisome; for under the first shallow layer of marl was a bed of blue-black sandy earth, which, owing to the frequent wading of camels, horses, and other animals, had been stirred up and mingled with the water. This latter was also impregnated with decaying animal and vegetable products proceeding from the marshes higher up, and smelt strongly of sulphuretted hydrogen. Besides, the domestic animals of the village, goats, sheep, cows, and n8 A REMEDY AGAINST MOSQUITOES. dogs, stood or wallowed in the water all day long; and with a strange disregard for hygienic principles, the wash- ing of the community was carried on in it above the village. Close to the edge of the channel, deep narrow pits were excavated in the black ooze, into which filtered the water for human consumption. Only the upper portions of the liquid in these receptacles is drinkable, that lower down being black as ink. It seems odd that under these circum- stances, and in view of the vast marshes around, fever should not be prevalent. On the contrary, the population of both sexes, and of all ages, looked healthy and well developed. Enormous mosquitoes abounded in immense quantities. After a night spent in a tent pitched on the border of the stream, both my eyes were almost completely closed, and my face was quite unrecognisable. The natives protect themselves against these insects by keeping a wood fire continually smouldering in the centre of the kibitka. The air is thus filled with acrid wood smoke, which expels the enemy. I have tried this remedy, but found it as bad as the evil it was meant to counteract. It was a question of choosing between having one’s face and hands stung all over by the insects, and being semi- asphyxiated and having one's eyes inflamed by the smoke. Large horse-flies, too, abound, which inflict cruel torture on the larger quadrupeds. I had one of my horses completely disabled by the multi- tude of inflamed pustules resulting from the stings of the flies. After a miserable night at the village of Gouili, our whole party rode out into the vast marshes in which at this season the Atterek loses itself, only such tiny stream- lets as I have described finding their way to the lagoon. For a couple of miles we followed the winding course of the stream, which in some places was deep and narrow, so narrow that sometimes it was quite hidden from view by the tamarisk bushes growing on either bank. The thick, COSSACK FISHING— PARTRIDGE COURSING. 119 muddy waters were alive with fish, so crowded as to be incapable of moving save by floundering and jumping over one another. They were chiefly, as is always the case in these waters, the sefid mahee, or large white carp. As we occasionally crossed the stream, our horses trod them to death by scores. In less crowded nooks huge pike were to be seen lurking under the bushes, but so stupefied by the foul water that the Cossacks took them in numbers by striking them with the point of the sabre, or simply whisk- ing them out of the water by the tail. Owing to the con- dition of the fish, however, it was deemed inadvisable to use them as food. A coarse sedge-like grass grew luxu- riantly everywhere, and here and there were small cleared spaces on which wretchedly thin oats and barley, or some other such cereal, was cultivated. There were extensive tracts ofcucumbei and water melon (karpus). Indeed, this latter crop is the only one worthy of mention, for the corn and maize were very limited indeed. Here and there were raised platforms, where men kept continual watch over the fields and herds ; for the Tekke and Goklan marauders very frequently swept away the cattle and burned the corn of their more peaceable Yamud brethren, the banks of the Atterek constituting a direct and well-watered route to the . coast villages. Everywhere among the straggling fields were to be seen the tombs of the warriors who had fallen from time to time in such raids. A few partridges and quails occasionally sprang up from among the corn patches. These our Turcoman guides ran down on horseback, the birds generally flying but fifty yards, and then taking to the stubble and bushes. Throughout the entire day’s exploration we did not meet with a single genuine branch of the Atterek, the few trenches of liquid mud we crossed being irrigation channels draining the neighbouring swamps. 120 ATTEREK DELTA— BOAR HUNTING. On the following day we pushed our investigations several miles further to the east, towards the head of the swampy delta. We crossed hundreds of acres of marshy ground, covered with bulrushes which overtopped a horse- man’s head, the horses sinking fetlock deep in the mixture of mud and tangled grass beneath our feet. Here and there broad belts of bamboo-like cane, growing from fifteen to eighteen feet high, and entirely impassable, forced us to turn aside. In the midst of these cane brakes were shallow pools crammed with fish, more than one-half of which were dead and putrescent. The air reeked with the effluvia of decomposing animal and vegetable matter. Vast flocks of water-fowl rose screaming from these pools as we ap- proached. There were blue herons, swans, cormorants, flamingoes, frigate-birds, and even eagles and hawks together. Occasionally, too, a sudden plunge and crashing amid the cane announced the presence of a wild boar, and the animal would break out into the open and dash across the swamp. Sometimes a pair, accompanied by four or five half-grown young, would make their appearance. It was difficult work galloping after them over the marshy ground, where our horses often sank knee deep in miry spots ; but we generally brought them to bay after a run of a mile or so, usually in some water pool thickly fringed with bushes. Here they were literally riddled by the carbine bullets of the Cossacks and Turcomans. We suc- ceeded in capturing alive two young boars. They were well grown, and their olive, dun-coloured bodies striped longi- tudinally with black. This striping disappears as the animals grow older. Yery large numbers of these boars are annually destroyed by the Turcomans, to prevent their ravaging the rice, corn, and melon plantations. They are never chased for food, the inhabitants being all Sunnite Mahometans. SWAMPY GROUND— UNCERTAIN FRONTIER. 121 After having thoroughly explored the swampy delta of the Atterek, and compared my own observations with those of others, I am convinced that during three-quarters of the year nothing worthy the name of a river comes within ten miles of the coast, the water being entirely absorbed by irrigation trenches or by the great spongy surface of the marsh. This latter, to judge from its condition during the hottest months of the year, must in winter and spring be inundated and entirely impassable. Nothing in the shape of a large principal channel through the delta exists, and very considerable engineering works would be necessary to render possible the passage of the smallest launch from the sea. The existence of this swamp, thirty miles long and twenty in breadth, gives rise to a good deal of uncertainty about the exact position of the frontier. Though the Atterek was at the time the real Russo-Persian frontier, diplomatically at least, the river Giurgen, further south, seemed to be the practical boundary, and has been men- tioned by some authors as the frontier. The Russian authorities, however, state that they have no claim what- ever on the Giurgen. The Persian military station nearest the line of demarcation is the Fort of Ak-Kala, situated on the Giurgen River. For some reason or other, the question of slavery among the Turcomans, which had from time immemorial remained untouched, was attracting considerable attention. The new Persian Governor of Asterabad had issued the strictest orders that the Turcoman tribes acknowledging the authority of the Shah, whether on Persian soil or residing for the moment on Russian territory, were instantly to give up all captives held by them as slaves. A short time before, in the village of Tchikislar, a curious case occurred. A Persian woman, of good family, had been carried off from her home during a predatory Turcoman expedition, and 122 MATRIMONIAL RIGHTS— LAZAREFF’S DECISION. was retained as a slave. Her parents, learning where she was, came to Tchikislar with a view of ransoming her ; bnt her owner refused to part with her at any price, stating that she was now his wife. The case was referred to General Lazareff, who decided that, were the woman simply retained as a slave, she should be at once given up without ransom ; but should it be proved that she were married to the Turcoman, she should remain with her husband. The lady herself intimated her desire to return to Persia ; but, as her husband was able to prove the mar- riage, she was obliged to stay at Tchikislar. Upon this decision she became very violent, and physical force had to be appealed to to get her out of the General’s tent and to her husband’s kibitka. INVASION BY CASPIAN. 123 CHAPTER Yin. HASSAN-KOULI DEATH OF LAZAKEFF. Hassan-Kouli lagoon — Incursions of sea-water — Old piratical station — Buried melons — Turcoman cemetery — Subsidence of graves — Ioyunvuskha — • Courtesy of the desert — Turcoman character — Battle tombs — Turco-Celtic derivations — Open-air mosques — An ex-corsair — Bad treatment of an envoy — A Turcoman interior — A native dinner — Polite attentions — Armenian fishing-station — Deserted camel — Thirsty sheep — Khirgese and Turcomans — Dysentery at Tchikislar — Lazareff’s illness and death— A burial at sea — A stormy voyage — General Tergukasoff — Back to Tchikislar and Chatte — Rainpools in the desert — Failing camels — Commissariat errors — W a t er-pi ts . Hassan-Kouli is a genuine Yamud Turcoman village stand- ing upon a sand-spit bounding the north of the lagoon of the same name — the lagoon into which the river Atterek falls. It is situated about fifteen versts from the camp of Tchikislar, and is at present the point where the new Russo-Persian frontier commences. The road to Hassan-Kouli (or rather Hassan-Ghouli) lies along the flat sandy beach stretching south from Tchikislar, and is fringed on the land side by low sand hills, slightly sprinkled with parched shrubs and sedge-like grass. So level is the beach, and so gradual the slope of the sea bottom, that the least gale of wind from the west is sufficient to drive the water five hundred yards inland, and I have known the westerly storm known as the tenkis to force the water as much as three miles over the plains. A short time previous to my leaving the camp at Tchikislar we vere completely inundated by one of these invasions of 124 FORMER SLAVE DEPOT— BURIED MELONS. sea-water, and the cavalry camp was forced back several hundred yards. Southward of the Russian camp is a straggling collection of kibitkas, or circular Turcoman huts, the remnants of what was once a great piratical station, and which served as an emporium for the reception of Persians captured on the southern Caspian coast previously to their being transmitted to Khiva and Bokhara. A few years ago it was bombarded by the Russian war steamers; since when the place has become one of little importance — a mere fishing village — and just now the main occupation of the inhabitants is that of catering for the Russian camp. A few hundred yards beyond its limits, the eye is struck by a series of black objects sticking up from the ground and crowning the sand hills. On approaching what at a dis- tance might easily pass for men mounting guard, one finds a number of sticks, or leg bones of camels planted upright in the sand, and swathed in pieces of the rude brown felt used for the roofing of kibitkas. The Turcomans explained to me, in their peculiar Yamud idiom, that something was buried under these effigies, and as at the time I could only understand one out of every three words they uttered, I at first came to the conclusion that they were sepulchral monuments, and that the tract covered by them was a cemetery. Later on I discovered that the buried objects were melons and cucumbers, which are placed in covered trenches, not only to preserve them from the crows, hut also to prevent the sun from acting upon them. In a Turcoman house there is little room but for the members of the family and their immediate household necessaries. Such a thing as a storehouse is unknown. Hence this melon cemetery. The entire road, if road I can call the track along the beach, is desolate in the extreme. During the whole tra- ject I met with no living things save an enormous black SEP ULCHRA L MONUMENTS. 125 eagle, preying on the fish stranded by the gale, and a few shrill-voiced seamews. Within four miles of the village I came upon the cemetery, which serves alike for Hassan- Kouli and Tchikislar. It is situated among some sand hills rather higher than those around. On approaching, one is struck by the appearance of a vast number of poles, precisely similar to telegraph supports. These are the ordinary sepulchral monuments, stone being entirely un- known in the district. At the moment of burial a couple of linen bands or a few morsels of cloth are attached to the pole, and at the time of my visit many such were fluttering in the wind. From the frequent occurrence of fixed pulleys in the tops of these poles I presume they are the masts of the fishing smacks of those buried, for the entire population of the Caspian borders is a fishing one. There are exceptions to these pole tombs. In some cases one sees a free-stone slab rudely sculptured into a resem- blance of a Turcoman hat, and bearing a brief inscription in Turkish character. Instead of the verse from the Koran seen on Turkish and Persian tombs, there is simply the name of the deceased and the year in which he died. In some instances the names of the ancestors for three or four generations are written. I recollect one. ‘Ali, son of Hassan, and grandson of Hussein, died 1272 ’ (Hegira). These stone tombs are brought from Persia. After the poles, articles of household use are the most frequent memorials. Earthen tea-pots and large water pitchers frequently stand at the head of the grave, and in many cases the money or clothes box of the defunct serves as his monument in death. These boxes are of the size of an ordinary travelling portmanteau, covered with thin brass sheetings, and strongly bound with iron. In the case of children, women, or very poor persons, the sole memento is usually a small circle of stones, or rather fragments of a 126 A FUNERAL CHAPEL— UNSTABLE GRAVES. friable conglomerate of minute sea shells. At the southern extremity of the burying-ground stands a small wooden house with pointed, sloping roof, surrounded by a shallow trench. Close by are two poles, one very high, the other less tall, and bearing on its summit a vane or weathercock. It is singular that even here a cock should be associated with this contrivance, for on the top of the pole bearing the weather-vane is a rude representation of the bird. The small wooden house, evidently constructed with the plank- ing of old fishing boats, is a kind of funeral chapel, where the moullah recites some verses of the Koran on the occa- sion of each interment. Sometimes, too, a rich and charitably disposed inhabitant of the district presents a sheep or goat to be cut up and distributed to the poor at this spot. The dead must be buried in very large coffins, the sand over many of the graves having fallen in to a depth of three or four feet. My attention was forcibly called to this by one incident. An officer of dragoons who accompanied me was engaged in sketching some tombs. He was on horseback. All at once I noticed his horse’s hind legs gradually sinking in the sand, and presently the fore-feet also — and then, suddenly, before the rider had time to dismount, there was a crash, and horse and man were half hidden in a cloud of sand and dust. The horse had been standing on a grave. A somewhat similar accident happened to myself once in Armenia, when, unconsciously riding over one of the semi-subterra- nean dwellings of the inhabitants, my horse’s legs went through the roof. There seems little or nothing about these tombs in common with those of the kindred Tartar races dwelling west of the Caspian. Between Baku and Shumakha the Mussulman inhabitants invariably place at the head of the grave a representation of a lance-head sculptured in stone, about eighteen inches high. Half-way 10 YUNVUSKHA— MUTUAL SERVICE. 127 between the cemetery and Hassan-Kouli is a singular struc- ture, devoted to an equally singular usage. It is a small, flat- topped mound, twelve or fifteen feet high, surmounted by a pole. When a man dies in battle he is interred, if possible, on the spot where he falls, and in his clothes. If he die of old age or sickness he is carried to the cemetery, and his clothes are hung on the pole surmounting the mound just mentioned. Several times during the year his friends or relations come to brush and clean the gar- ments, and sometimes bring presents of new ones. This institution is named Ioyunvuskha. Between the cemetery and the village or town of Hassan- Kouli extends one vast desert plain of sand and salt. Columns of sand borne by whirlwinds dance to and fro, and a kind of sand fog fills the air, making objects in- visible beyond four hundred yards. This sand and salt dust, filling the eyes, is excessively disagreeable. Arrived in the midst of this plain our guide, a Yamud Turcoman in the Russian service, found an object on which to exercise the courtesy of the desert. It was an ass of moderate dimensions, who evidently, from his pack-saddle and trail- ing rope, had broken loose. The Turcoman went in pur- suit, and the runaway fully justified his character as ‘a strong wild ass of the desert,’ for it was a quarter of an hour before the long-legged horse could turn him. For over three miles the Turcoman perseveringly drove the beast before him, ultimately to the owner, to whom he handed him. When asked whether the latter had given him anything for his trouble, he answered, ‘ He said thank you, that was enough ; another time, perhaps, he would do as much for me.’ And yet this Turcoman, with his grena- dier guard’s hat, curved scimitar, and slung rifle, was a person I shuard. cenaimy eye abiranee ^d I meet him in another part of the world in a lonesome locality. These 128 TURCOMAN CHARACTER— BATTLE TOMBS. Turcomans have a strangely mixed character. I believe their natural tendencies to be very good, and their mental capacity of no mean order. Under a fixed and firm rule, I believe they would develop into excellent citizens and in- valuable soldiers. As it is, they show a remarkable capa- city for self-government, and obey their elected village chiefs as regularly as French or English constituencies concur in the decisions of their Mayors. Their predatory and lawless manners towards neighbouring peoples are the result of unhappy circumstances, like those which created similar manners and customs in the days of our feudal ancestors. I speak now of the Yamud Turcomans, and not of their neighbours the Tekke. Drawing near the village, we passed a number of battle- tombs, melancholy records of the sad state of affairs exist- ing between the different branches of a common race. The Tekke Turcomans, who, according to all accounts, were a set of irreclaimable scamps, passed their leisure time in making raids on their neighbours. When victorious, they killed the entire male adult population, and carried off the women and children as slaves. The attacked village naturally did its best to repel the invaders, every able-bodied man turning out at once in defence of life and home. A curious dis- tinction in the system of sepulture of those killed in battle and those dying in their beds existed. As I have already stated, the individual dying a natural death was carried to the cemetery, and his clothes were hung up on the Ioyun- vuskha. But the man who fell in battle was buried in his clothes, when possible on the very spot where he fell. The outskirts of the village of Hassan-Kouli are full of the sepulchral indications of violent death. The soldier’s tomb consists of a pole of some twenty feet in length, planted vertically in the sand, its base surrounded by a circle of small stones, within which are accumulated a selection of A PHILOLOGICAL QUESTION. 129 water jars and earthen tea-pots, tributes to the memory of the departed. Sometimes a morsel of linen, or a piece of rudely-embroidered felt, hangs standardwise from the pole. The entire sand plain in front of the village was studded with these battle records, some dating only a few months back. There were no outskirts to the village. The Tekke people were too frequent visitors to allow of the luxury of suburban residences. There is nothing known to Western Europeans to which I could compare a Turcoman village, save, perhaps, those collections of beehives one sees along the Spanish shore of the Bidassoa. A kibitka is exactly like an enormous beehive, and one is exactly like another. They are in reed and felt what the ‘ beehive houses ’ in stone are in the remnants of ancient Celtic architecture. A propos of Turcomans and Celts, there seems a curious re- semblance between the name of the individual from which that of the village is taken, and a similar patronymic at home. Hassan-Kouli (Ghouli) means ‘ the servant of Hassan,’ just as Easterns style themselves ‘servant of God,’ ‘of Mohammed,’ or ‘of Ali,’ that is, according to some authorities. Some say the ‘ Ghouli ’ meahs ‘ a lake. In Scotland we have the word gillie— a servant; and in Ireland the name ‘ Giola Patrick,’ i.e., ‘the servant of St. Patrick.’ I do not know what philologists will say to this. My attention was drawn to it by the wonderful resemblance of the inhabitants to those of the west of Ireland. The physiognomy is the same, and the military attitude and humoristic tendencies of both races are strikingly similar. The independent clan organisation and the elective system of choosing the chief form other points of resemblance, and the nomadic shepherd life is similar to that of the early inhabitants of the Celtic districts of the British Isles. Hassan-Kouli, which consists of eight or nine hundred kibitkas, termed aladjaks by the nomads of the more easterly VOL. 1. k 130 KIBITKAS AND DJAMIS . plains, is almost exclusively a fishing station inhabited by Turcomans of the Jaffar Bay (or Bey) tribe. It is estab- lished along the sand, raised but a few inches above the water level. The slightest breeze in a certain direction is sufficient to impel the shallow waters of the lagoon into the very midst of the village. The kibitkas are consequently established on slightly raised platforms of beaten earth, to prevent their floors being inundated, and a few wooden structures, among them that of the chief, are built on stout wooden piles three or four feet high. In front of each dwelling is a raised platform eight or ten feet above the ground, sometimes covered by a thatch awning. These platforms are used for drying fish and the skins of sea- birds, which are largely exported to Persia. The djami, or mosque, is of the most simple and primitive kind. It is an oblong platform of beaten earth twenty-five feet by twelve, encompassed by a shallow trench, and elevated some fifteen inches above the surrounding surface. On each side a broad plank, thrown across the ditch, gives access to the platform. The muezzim takes his stand in some open space close by, and putting his hands to each side of his mouth utters the long-drawn call to prayer at the appointed hours. I noticed several similar praying stations in dif- ferent parts of the village, one being evidently quite inade- quate to accommodate all the inhabitants. In no Turcoman village did I observe any covered structure devoted to reli- gious worship. The nomad habits of the people entirely preclude the possibility of making use of the domed and minareted structures of more sedentary Mussulmans. Apart from the catching and drying of sefid mahee, or the white fish, the place has no industry save the manufacture of kibitkas. This latter seems to flourish ; but whether its products are confined to renewing the local residences or whether they are manufactured for neighbouring commu- AN EX-CORSAIR. 13 1 nities I was unable to ascertain. Previous to the year 1859, Hassan-Kouli was a centre of piratism. Moullah Dourdi, the now respectable old gentleman and ex-corsair, who, while I was at Tchikislar, was one of the principal local commissariat contractors, hails from this place. Still there are remnants of the old habit to which the Hassan- Koulians cling lovingly ; and along the wild unorganised Persian frontier the subjects of His Majesty Nasr Eddin Shah have yet cause to fear the nomads of the borders. Even after the suppression of open piracy on the high seas, raids on Persian coast villages and the retention of the principal inhabitants for ransom continued ; and unre- deemed Persian captives of the female sex are still to be found at Hassan-Kouli, though no longer, it is true, as mere captives ; they have become the wives of Turcomans, and Persian blood is frequently seen indicated by the dark eyes, high arched brows, and feminine features of the younger inhabitants. I have already alluded to the case of the Persian lady, held captive at Hassan Kouli, whose place of seclusion was discovered, and who was reclaimed by her relations, armed violence being the result when the Russian emissary was sent to recover her. Cases like this are extremely rare, for the female Persian captives have become quite naturalized among the Turcomans, and, for the most part do not wish to leave their children and newly adopted homes. It is much to be wondered at that, during the long years previous to the occupation of Ashurade Bay by the Russian flotilla, the Persian government took no measures to suppress the man-stealing traffic of the Yamuds. A very insignificant naval force indeed, on the part of Russia, has been found quite adequate to the task. Two or three of the tiniest steam gun-boats launched from Enzeli by the Shah, coupled with the smallest organisation of police along the 132 A TURCOMAN INTERIOR. South Caspian littoral, would have effectually put an end to the traffic. Nasr Eddin Shah, however he may fret about the gradual advance of Eussia along both eastern and southern coasts, must feel under obligations to her for the prompt manner in which his subjects have been freed from the ravages of the Turcoman pirates. How far this action on the part of Russia has been completely disinterested it is hard to say ; but it would be most ungracious to take it for granted that humanitarian motives were absent, and that she sought only a plausible excuse for converting the Caspian into what it now is, a Muscovite lake. Since the action of Lieutenant Sideroff in running down the pirate luggers, and for which he was decorated by the Shah, things have changed immensely for the better all round the coast. Turcoman hostility on the Persian sea-hoard may he said to have totally ceased, and, as a consequence, maritime activity has greatly increased in the small villages which were previously nothing but the fortalices of a few fisher- men. Even the most active among the Turcoman slave dealers themselves, like Moullah Dourdi, have become converted into commissariat agents and general merchants. The chief of Hassan-Kouli was absent — in fact he had passed us on the road from Tchikislar ; but in our capacity of distinguished foreigners we were conducted to his house. It was not a kibitka, but a square edifice, constructed of the planks of used-up fishing boats, oblong in form, with high and pitched pointed roof, and set upon piles. A flight of half-a-dozen wooden steps led to the door. The main chamber might be about twenty feet by twelve, and was lighted on two sides by windows actually containing glass. A homespun carpet of sober hut harmoniously blended colours covered the floor, and here and there were felt mats. On some lateral shelves were piles of beds and cushions, and in the windows a couple of ordinary paraffin lamps. Tea A TALK OVER A K ALIO UN— EATING. *33 was served, and then the kalioun, a rudimentary nargeelah, or hubble-bubble pipe in wood, was brought in, and passed round. A running, desultory conversation was started, all matters connected with immediate local politics being studiously avoided. Our acting host was a stout, middle- aged man, with beautifully white teeth, and an excessively humorous twinkle in his clear grey eyes. He wore loose, wide trousers of white calico, and a shirt of the same material, which hung open on his chest. From his general physiognomy he might have passed for a stout Flemish burgher, rather than a citizen of Hassan-Kouli, and doubt- less an ex-pirate. My companion was a Eussian. That nationality he perfectly understood. My country, he had heard of ; but he wanted to know where it was situated. He was, or appeared to he, perfectly satisfied by the expla- nation that it was very far off; and then he suddenly asked whether the Busso-Turkish war w~ere yet over. I am very much afraid that this child-like bonhomie had but little to do with the real character of the man, and was put on especially for our benefit. Hypocrisy is the pride of a true Oriental. A dinner of boiled mutton and pilaff (boiled rice) mixed up in a single mess, was served in a large deep dish of tinned copper, laid on the floor. The entire company sat round, and fished out each a handful. Contrary to ordinary Mussulman habits there was no preparatory washing of hands, and, especially in the case of our acting host, ‘ the hand that mingled in the meal ’ might have been more scrupulously clean. Each person boldly grasped a handful of rice, squeezed it into a ball in the palm of his hand, and then clapped it into his mouth by a movement similar to that of a conjuror swallowing a table knife. Our host, who seemed to have taken an especial liking to me, from time to time scraped pieces of mutton off the hones with his dirty thumb-nail, and threw them into my part of the r 34 TEA AND SIESTA. dish, expressing his wonder at my small appetite for animal food. After dinner there was no more washing than before it. The guests stuck their fingers one after the other into their mouths, thus removing the excess of rice and grease adhering to them. The meal concluded, tea was served again; that all-pervading institution, the samovar , being again brought in. As is usual all over this part of the East, the tea was served in porcelain bowls or glass tumblers. It is drunk in prodigious quantities, very weak, over- sweetened, and without milk or cream. In fact, this latter is entirely unknown as an adjunct in all true tea-drinking countries. My attentive host, noticing that half-a-dozen flies were swimming in my tea, immediately plunged two of his great unwashed fingers up to the knuckles into my glass to fish out the intruders, and on each similar and oft- repeated bath on the part of the insects it was only my own prompt action that prevented a repetition of the atten- tion. On his part it was meant in the kindliest possible spirit, and the act was one of genuine politeness. He would have seen all the flies under the dominion of their ruler Beelzebub in his compatriots’ glass before he would have taken the same trouble. Here the invariable sequel to a meal is a sleep. Large, soft cushions were brought, and, lying on the carpet, we were soon buried in slumber, over- come by the intense heat. It was three in the afternoon when we took leave of our acting host and turned our horses ’ heads towards Tchikislar. Far out in the shallow lagoon, a couple of miles from land, we noticed wooden houses— fishing stations, the property, if I do not mistake, of a rich Armenian merchant, who also possessed a vast establishment of a similar kind in the inland waters of the Moredab at Enzeli on Persian territory, and for which he paid an annual fee of 40,000Z. to the Shah. Our way back lay through the cemetery and sand hills DISABLED CAMELS— THIRSTY SHEEP . 135 again. A convoy of camels, returning from Chatte, had passed since the morning, and, as usual, in their track was a disabled camel, crouched kneelingly on the burning sand. He was munching wearily some withered shrubs, and from time to time swung his great, long, gaunt neck around, to chase the myriad flies that settled on the large bare sore on his side. Only the stump of his tail remained. The rest had, according to the custom of the Khirgese drivers, been cut off as evidence that he had been abandoned in the desert. The poor beast was lying close by a well, whose mouth was protected from the drifting sands by a bottom- less tub, and he gazed wistfully at the water beyond his reach. Eound the well were some cracked earthen bowls, beside which a few diminutive brown, horned sheep were waiting the chance of a passing traveller who, when water- ing his horse, might afford them the opportunity of drink- ing. They crowded imploringly around us, standing on their hind legs, and endeavouring to reach at the cracked earthen vessels from which we were drinking, and into which we had poured the contents of the nosebags of water fished up by our linked horse tethers. It was pitiable to see the number of these disabled camels that one was accustomed to meet in a day’s ride. A Khirgese would archly explain the matter by saying that these abandoned camels ‘belonged to his Imperial Majesty’ — that is, had been hired for the Government service, and become dis- abled, thus entitling the proprietors to a compensation of one hundred roubles for each. The said proprietors pre- ferred maltreating a weak animal and then abandoning him, the money they received more than recompensing them for the loss. I have already mentioned that condign punish- ment was meted out to half-a-dozen of these blackguards for having thus cut off the tails of sixty camels which they abandoned on the road from Krasnavodsk to Tchikislar. 136 LAZAREFFS ILLNESS. These Khirgese seem to me a race far inferior, morally and physically, to their more southerly brethren of the steppes, the Turcomans. It is a curious fact, too, that there exists a wide difference in the horses of these nomad races. Those of the Khirgese are short-legged, shaggy, and fat ; those of the Turcomans tall, gaunt, and wiry. When the charm of novelty wore off, time hung heavily on our hands in the camp at Tchikislar. Notwithstanding all precautions, I fell a victim to the prevailing malady, which was carrying off soldiers by the score. I allude to that curse of ill-regulated camps, dysentery. It is a disease which prostrates one almost immediately. Simultaneously the Commander-in-Chief had a virulent attack of carbuncles, between his shoulders and on his breast and stomach. Only a short time previously the plague had been raging at Astrakan, and there were those who said that the General had incautiously purchased a rug which was tainted with the infection. Be this as it may, he was obliged to keep his bed, just as the critical moment had arrived — the moment for the advance into the Akhal Tekke country. Prince Dolgorouki, commanding the advance guard, had al- ready been for some time to the front. Prince Wittgenstein marched with his cavalry, and had invited me to accompany him, but as I tried to drag myself from my bed to dress I fell prostrate on the floor through sheer weakness. Anyone who has suffered from the same malady will readily re- cognise the situation. General Lazareff sent an aide-de- camp daily to enquire after me, and I returned the courtesy by despatching my servant to ask how the Commander-in- Chief progressed. Some of the people in the camp said it was a race between us as to which should die first. The supreme moment having come, the General was lifted from his bed into a four-horse vehicle, which was intended to carry him to the front. He reached Chatte, at the junc- LA ZA REEF’S DEATH— ORDERED TO BAKU. 137 tion of the Atterek and Sumbar rivers, where the carbuncles were operated upon by the chief surgeon of the army. The General insisted upon pushing forward at four in the morning, but before he reached the next station he was dead. The doctors had told me that to remain at Tchikislar was to incur a more than serious risk of death, and from what I knew of military operations I was aware that before definite hostilities commenced I should have time to recruit my strength in a healthier atmosphere, and amid happier surroundings. On August 22 I staggered from my bed, and was supported to the pier, where a man-of-war’s boat was waiting to take me on hoard the ‘Ural’ war steamer. I went as the guest of Lieutenant Ungern- Sternberg, the second in command on board, to whose unremitting kind- ness I am glad to have an opportunity of now bearing witness. He died shortly afterwards. The storms so prevalent on the Caspian at that time of the year doubled the ordinary period of transit to Baku, and we were almost overtaken by the ‘ Tamar,’ screw steamer, conveying the remains of my poor old friend, General Lazareff. During my voyage from Tchikislar to Baku on board the ‘ Ural,’ which was crowded with barely convalescent patients from the camp, most of them, if not all, suffering from dysentery, I had an opportunity of witnessing a burial at sea. An infirmary sergeant, ill with the prevailing disease, had postponed his departure to the last moment, and died after the first twenty-four hours at sea, probably in consequence of the exhaustion incident to sea-sickness acting upon an utterly debilitated frame. His body, sewn in a hammock, lay beside the gunwale, partly covered by the Bed Cross Geneva flag. Close by the head of the corpse was a lectern, on which lay a Bussian missal. One by one the comrades of the deceased approached the lectern, i 3 8 A FUNERAL AT SEA. and read over in silence some passages or prayers devoted to the memory of the dead. Lieutenant Woltchakoff, an officer of the war steamer, was among those who read longest and most earnestly to the memory of his departed comrade-in-arms. In the afternoon all the officers of the ship appeared in full uniform. The great bulk of the invalids, soldiers from the interior of Eussia, many of whom had seldom seen any expanse of water larger than a river or a lake, were horrified when they understood that their dead companion was about to be committed to the waves. They grumbled, and said it was scarcely worth their while to run so many risks and suffer such great privations, to be treated in such a fashion when they died. As the final hour approached, the small sacred picture which garnishes the cabin of every Eussian vessel was brought on deck. The body was elevated on the shoulders of four seamen, and a procession, with lighted candles, was formed, the boatswain, bearing the holy picture, leading. The entire circuit of the deck was made. The corpse was then de- posited alongside the opening of the bulwarks, some iron weights were attached to the feet, the Geneva flag was run up to the peak, and a twelve-pounder gun, ready charged, was run out close by. The whole ship’s company uncovered. The body was slipped along a plank, and as it sank beneath the waters the gun boomed out a farewell to one of the many victims of the Akhal Tekke expedition. The grum- blers at once took heart. Those who had felt so irritated at the prospect of being thrown overboard like dead dogs when they died, now thought how fine a thing it was for officers in full dress to stand by bareheaded while a cannon was discharged in honour of their deceased companion— a greater honour than any of them could hope for in life. Immediately after the interment a violent storm arose, the engines, working full speed, barely enabling the * Ural’ to GENERALS TERGUKASOFF AND G 0 URCH 1 NE. 139 hold her own against the furious winds from the west. We were kept two days thus stationary, and were then obliged to run towards Krasnavodsk and anchor under shelter of the island of Ogurchen until the storm abated. Then, having run short of astatki fuel, we were obliged to go to Krasnavodsk to take some in. Thence we went straight across to Baku, which we made at 7.30 on the morning of August 29. Two days afterwards the body of’ Lazareff arrived on board the ‘ Tamar,’ enclosed in a rough coffin of blackened deal. A day was occupied in the em- balming, and it was then carried in procession to the Gregorian Church in the great square, borne on the shoulders of the deceased veteran’s compatriots. His decorations, each one borne upon a cushion by an officer, were carried in front. There was no military music, but priests and acolytes chanted. From the chapel the body was conveyed direct to Tiflis, where it was interred with military honours. On September 17, General Tergukasoff, the new Commander-in-Chief of the expedition, together with General Gourchine, arrived at Baku ; and on the 20th I accompanied them to Tchikislar. Almost immediately on landing the Generals repaired to Chatte, and thence to the extreme advance at Bendessen, among the Kopet-Dagh mountains, in order to ascertain how matters stood after the repulse of the troops from before Yengi Sheher. Tergu- kasoff would not afford me any facilities for accompanying him, and as, without relays of horses, I could not pretend to keep up with his party, I was obliged to go towards the front with a battalion which was escorting some baggage waggons to Chatte. The march occupied seven days, and as I have already given the diary, describing the bed of the Atterek, which I kept on the occasion, I need not now recur to it. I was not allowed to proceed any further than 140 SENT TO TCHIKISLAR— ABANDONED CAMELS. Chatte, and, after a stay of three days there, it was inti- mated to me by the Chief of Staff, on the part of General Tergukasoff, who had just arrived from Dusolum, that I was desired to return to Tchikislar, in company with two battalions which were about to retire upon the same place. Operations were at an end for the winter, and nothing of any interest would transpire for some months. I therefore packed up, and started on my return journey. The two battalions, unencumbered by waggons, took the direct road by Karaja-Batur, where water-pits had been constructed for the accommodation of the troops. We arrived in Tchikislar after a march of four days and a half. Bain had been fall- ing plentifully, and great pools of water were met with from time to time, along the borders and over the surfaces of which immense numbers of waterfowl were to be seen. In some of the more accidented ground, a tender young grass imparted an emerald tint to the spot, though it was of such a very slight and sparse nature indeed as to be practically useless for grazing purposes. Still, it shows what the so- called desert could become under happier circumstances, and with a constant water supply. The entire route from Chatte to Tchikislar was strewn with camel and mule bones, and I several times witnessed the exhausted condition of the camels who had come from the front. Scarcely a day’s march was ever got through with- out half a dozen falling from weakness, and being obliged to be abandoned. The camel will continue to stalk along under his burden in the string to which he belongs, showing no apparent signs of exhaustion, and will suddenly fall as if shot through the head. In the greater number of cases in which a camel thus falls, he dies in a few hours, on the same spot ; in some instances, however, he recovers slowly, regains his legs, and is able to graze. Such a camel, how- ever, is altogether useless afterwards, and abandoned camels TROOPS SENT HOME-NEW WATER PITS. 141 are constantly to be met with, straying at will over the desert. I found that many battalions had been sent back from Tchikislar to Baku and Petrovsk, and that it was intended that a limited number should remain in the camp. General Tergukasoff had evidently made up his mind to avoid the very serious error committed by his predecessor. Lazareff had brought his entire force to Tchikislar, and had then endeavoured to accumulate the reserve of provisions which was indispensable before commencing active operations. It was much more expensive east of the Caspian to feed the soldiers than if they had remained on its western shore. The place was much more unhealthy, and the amount daily consumed by the troops left but a small margin to spare of the provisions which were constantly being disembarked at the camp. Some sanitary measures were also adopted by the new generalissimo, great attention being paid to the construction of new water-pits. These were some eight to ten feet in depth, and the same in width at top. After a few hours some bucketsful of water collected in the bottoms, but it was at best of a brackish kind, and in a day or so became quite undrinkable owing to the concentration of saline matter due to evaporation by the sun’s heat. Insect deposits and vegetable growths also helped to render the water unfit for consumption, so that it was necessary to be continually constructing new water-pits. The entire neigh- bourhood of the camp, far and near, was honeycombed with these holes. General Lazareff had entertained an idea of digging a small canal from the Atterekto the camp, and, bad though the water of that river is, such a supply would have been an inestimable boon. The time was fast approaching when I should once more turn my back on Tchikislar. Time passed drearily enough ; for when once the denizens of the camp had settled down to 142 CAMP SCENES. the routine of every-day work, and we had organised our separate menages, there was a sad lack of excitement and novelty. All day long an ant-like procession of soldiers streamed from the pier to the depots, each man bearing on his back sacks of corn which the Turcoman launches had landed from the transport ships. It was but a short time before my departure that the tramway along the recon- structed pier, and reaching to the back of the camp, was in working order. As the sun went down the wailing chant of the evening prayer, accompanied by bugles and drums, broke the general stillness that accompanied the parade. When darkness settled over the camp, ombres chinoises flitted on the canvas walls of the lighted tents ; and from far and near came the confused beating of drums and clashing of cymbals, keeping time to the melancholy dirge of the soldiers’ choruses, for all their songs seem essentially sad. Then, as midnight drew near, nought was heard save the low surging and fretting of the Caspian surf, and the shriek of the owl and the night-hawk in answer to the plaintive cry of the prowling jackals. COLONEL MALAMA . 143 CHAPTER IX. FROM TCHIKISLAR TO ASTERABAD. Banished from Tchikislar — Colonel ShelkovnikofF — Starting for the Atterek — A night at Hassan-Kouli — Turcoman lady — Her costume — Primitive flour-mills — Ovens — Sulphide of iron small-shot — Sea-birds — Crossing the Atterek mouth — Sleighing on a mud bank — Across country — Nomad shepherds — Goklan Tepessi — A dervish moullah — An usla-adam — Bird’s- eye view of delta — Burnt reed-fields —Tame and wild ducks — The Kizil- Alan — Pin-tailed grouse — Ak-Kala — Altoun-tokmok — An adventure with village dogs — Crossing the Giurgen — Ata-bai — Village of Nergis- tepe — Pomegranate jungle — Kara-Su —Arrival at Asterabad — Shah Abass’ causeway — Mr. Churchill. A fortnight after my arrival from Chatte, Colonel Malama, the Chief of Staff, intimated to me that all operations for the winter were at an end, and that I would feel myself much more comfortable at Baku during the dreary Caspian winter than amidst the camp, which he told me would be semi- deserted during that season. At the moment I had not quite made up my mind as to what course I should adopt, so I simply bowed in reply. 4 When will you go ? ’ said the Chief of Staff. * Well, Colonel,’ I replied, * you know I have horses which I must dispose of ; they are scarcely worth carrying across the Caspian ; I don’t want them at Baku, and I should like time to dispose of them.’ With this diplomatic answer our interview terminated. Though I had not decided as to what I should do, my predominant idea was that I should remain upon the ground until the reopening of the campaign in the spring, as I should then be better acquainted with the preliminary operations ; and 144 A REMINDER FROM SHELKOVNIKOFF. besides, I was not in love with the wild, dissipated life which an unoccupied person is almost forced, despite him- self, to lead in the ‘ Oil City of the East.’ I hoped that when the staff had left the camp at Tchildslar, if, indeed, such were their intention, I should be overlooked and allowed to remain behind. During a week I led an exceedingly dreary existence in my tent of more than circumscribed dimensions, trying to sleep when unoccupied with my notes and journal trying to sleep, I say, because whether by night or by day it was not easy to find a moment’s repose. At night, red mosquitoes filled the tent, and during the day, especially the mid-day, the ordinary black fly rendered sleep impossible. Whether in winter or in summer, these pests of this region never left the vicinity of a camp whose ill- ordered hygienic arrangements too plentifully supplied them and their offspring with the means of existence. At the end of the week, as one day towards two o’clock in the afternoon I lay upon the carpet which separated me from the moist sand, trying to forget the restless hours of the night, a Cossack entered my tent, and, shaking me by the shoulder, told me that Colonel Shelkovnikoff, an officer of Armenian extraction, then occupying the post of com- mandant of the camp, desired to speak with me immediately. I rose to receive the Colonel, who said, rather abruptly, ‘ I think Colonel Malama intimated to you that it would be better did you pass the winter at Baku, on the other side of the Caspian.’ ‘ It is true,’ I replied, ‘ but I have not yet been able to dispose of my horses.’ ‘ Well,’ rejoined he, ‘ horses disposed of or not, the orders of the Com- mander-in- Chief are that you quit the camp for Baku by the steamer which leaves at seven o’clock this evening.’ At this I grew indignant. ‘ Colonel,’ said I, ‘ I admit that the Commander-in-Cliief’ (General Tergukasoff, also an Arme- nian, and since deceased) ‘ has a perfect right to order me A SURREPTITIOUS DEPARTURE. 145 to quit his camp, or even Russian territory, but I deny his right to dictate to me the route which I shall take in so doing. I will proceed at once to the frontier, and thence to Asterabad, the nearest point at which a British Consu- late is to be found.’ With this we parted. I waited until the hour fixed for my departure was approaching, and then ordered my tent to be struck and my horses saddled. A heavy downpour of rain was falling, and stormy gusts were sweeping from the landward. I sent my horses outside the camp, and followed them, lest notice should be taken of me, as would probably have been the case had I left mounted, and with baggage in marching order. Outside the guarded limits, I and my servant rode swiftly away in the direction of the Atterek River, the line beyond which Russia claimed no jurisdiction. I directed my steps to- wards Hassan-Kouli, the Turcoman village which I have already described. Towards six o’clock in the evening, on November 10, 1879, after wading across many a rain-filled channel and muddy expanse, I reached Hassan-Kouli. In this place the chief was a certain Moullah Nourri. I asked my way to his kibitka, and was hospitably received, especially as I was believed to be a person who was well able and willing to make an adequate ‘ present ’ when leaving. Up to this moment it had not been decided whether this Turco- man village was or was not within Russian jurisdiction, inasmuch as a branch of the river Atterek flowing across its delta once ran between it and the camp at Tchikislar. In the hurry of my departure I had forgotten to ask Colonel Malama for a passport declaring who I was and recom- mending me to the Persian authorities. However, halting for the night at the village, I gave instructions to my servant to ride off early in the morning to the Russian camp, and ask for the necessary document. Meantime, I had my first opportunity of seeing domestic Turcoman life. VOL. 1. L 146 A TURCOMAN MATRON In these regions the entire family, male and female, dwell under the one roof, which covers but a single circular apart- ment, not more than fifteen feet in diameter. As I entered, they told me that I was khosh geldi (welcome), and I took my seat on a carpet beside the fire burning in the centre of the habitation. It was mainly composed of fragments and spars of fishing boats, and the smoke found exit by the customary circular opening in the roof, some six feet in dia- meter, and barred by radial spokes like those of a cart-wheel A stately, rather solid-looking matron of some forty years, entirely unveiled, sat beside the fire. Near her was a colossal samovar, or tea-urn — a Eussian institution which seems to have penetrated to the uttermost depths of Central Asia. Some young girls, her daughters, seated on either side, were busy grinding flour in a primitive horizontal hand-mill, kneading dough for the evening bread, or carding wool for the manufacture of carpets and the rude water- proof mantles worn by the Turcomans. The elder lady was clad in a shirt of coarse silk, of a dark purple colour, striped with black, and falling nearly to the ankles. This, except- ing the close-fitting trousers of a darker tint, and drawn tightly round the ankles, was the only garment worn by her. Around her head was twisted a handkerchief of bright crimson silk, turban-wise, one extremity falling upon the left shoulder. On her neck was a massive silver ornament, resembling more the collar of a Newfoundland dog than any other object to which I can compare it, being at least an inch and a half in depth, and a third of an inch in thickness. At intervals round it were set flat oval cornelians, alternating with lozenge-shaped panels of embossed gold. From its front hung at least twenty silver chains, falling over the breast, and broken half-way down by lozenge- shaped pieces of silver, also embossed with gold, and sup- porting a cylinder of silver hanging below the level of the FEMALE ORNAMENTS. 147 waist, and containing talismanic writings, to preserve her from the Gins and other evil spirits which are supposed to haunt these Central Asian wildernesses. On either breast hung medal-wise a quantity of pieces of silver money, Rus- sian five-rouble and Persian five-kran coins, so numerous that they presented the appearance of a cuirasse of silver. On either shoulder was a flat cylindrical silver box, about four inches in diameter, in the centre of each of which was also set a flat cornelian. Her long, coarse hair, plaited into two tails, which reached below the small of her back, was also profusely decorated with silver coins, growing larger towards the extremity of the plaited hair tail. On her wrists were massive silver bracelets — so massive, and apparently so heavy, that one could not but imagine that they must seriously interfere with the move- ments of her arms. They, too, bore the usual lozenge- shaped gold panels and flat cornelians. Turcoman women seem always to be in full dress, and I have rarely seen them, even when employed in laborious occupations, with- out it. A ponderous paraphernalia is a concomitant of respectability, as it is understood in these parts. The younger females were similarly, but less profusely and massively decorated. In fact, as I afterwards learned, nearly the entire capital of a Turcoman family is thus invested in family ornaments —a custom the adoption of which the ladies at home would probably hail with a great deal of pleasure. Still, for all their finery, there are no more hard-working members of society than the wives and daughters of the Khan’s subjects. They perform with their own hands every detail of domestic labour ; and the lady of the house herself not only superintends, but exe- cutes the making of the pilaff which constitutes the chief meal of the day. The sun had set some time when a large wooden dish of barley and rice, mixed with the broken-up 148 DOMESTIC LIFE. carcases of half a dozen wild ducks, and with some raisins and dried plums, was brought in. This might be styled the piece de resistance of a Turcoman gentleman’s family, were there aught else to supplement it. As it is, it forms the alpha and the omega of the meal — entremets and sweet dishes being combined in one grand whole. The family and guests sit cross-legged on the carpet, round the great wooden dish, and with fingers and thumbs supply them- selves with what portions of the mess come handy. The meal ended, large bolsters are produced ; each one cleans his fingers from the adhering grease by thrusting them sepa- rately and repeatedly into his mouth, and then, spreading his great sheep-skin overcoat above him, sinks to sleep just where he has eaten. In the morning, fully an hour before the faintest tinge of dawn is seen upon the horizon, one is roused by the low rumbling of the hand-mills as the ladies of the community grind the flour for the morning bread. This is baked in cylindrical open-topped ovens, situated some yards from the entrance to the house. The hand- mills are in all respects precisely similar to those which we find in museums as having been used in the households of the early Celts and Saxons of these isles — commonly known as querns. There is a horizontal nether millstone, about two feet in diameter, having a pivot hole in its centre. It is some four inches in thickness, and slightly convex. CJpon it rests the upper stone, of equal dimensions, furnished with one opening near the axis, through which to introduce the corn to be ground, a kind of primitive ‘ hopper,’ and near the circumference with another, in which a rude handle is inserted. This apparatus is laid upon a coarse cotton cloth, and a long red-shirted young lady squatted at its side takes from the wooden dish close to her handfuls of corn, which she pours little by little into the ‘ hopper,’ all the time, with her right hand, causing the upper stone to revolve. The BAKING— BREAKFAST. 149 coarsely ground flour falls out, at the junction of the stones, upon the cloth beneath. The cereal most in use is arpa, or a dark- coloured species of barley, and the resulting flour is anything but white. The ovens, which, as I have said, are situated outside the houses, at a few yards’ distance from the door, are short truncated cones of loam, hollow in the interior ; they are filled with rude brambles and morsels of decayed fishing boats, and the whole is set on fire. In anything like a considerable village, long before the first blush of dawn is seen, the sky is red with the reflection of a hundred blazing ovens. When the entire ignited mass has settled down to a cinder, the oven is ready for use. With a rude broom of tamarisk branches the cinders are swept to one side, and the cake of dough, an inch in thick- ness, is placed upon the scorching hearth. The red cinders are then swept over it, and in this primitive manner the bread is baked. This work, as well as every other household duty, is exclusively performed by females. The morning meal, which takes place usually before the sun has shone out above the horizon, consists of bread, so fresh from the oven that it burns the tongue on being put into the mouth. It is washed down by weak green tea, usually sugarless. This decoction, made in a strange mediaeval looking copper tankard, tastes at first precisely like Epsom salts. Pending the arrival of my servant from the camp at Tchikislar with my Eussian passport, gun in hand I strolled along the beach of the Hassan-Kouli lagoon, on this side half slob, half tide-pool. Ducks in hundreds swam in groups on every side, and allowed the shooter to get within close range of them. They do not seem at all afraid of the approach of human beings, unless one comes very close indeed. The Turcomans rarely give themselves the trouble to go shooting, and when they do so their i5o IRON SMALL-SHOT. ammunition is, little adapted to killing at long range. Though the Turcomans of the Caspian border and in the vicinity of Tchikislar are able to procure powder of European make, and though the old 185B pattern muskets with which they are chiefly armed make capital ducking guns, lead shot is entirely beyond their reach, owing to the excessive prices charged for it at Asterabad, the nearest accessible market at which it can be procured without crossing the Caspian. In its place, grains of sulphide of iron are used. A bar of iron is heated to whiteness, and brought in contact with a lump of crude sulphur. The iron appears to melt, and, dropping from a height into a bowl of water, supplies a quantity of lava-like nodules of various dimensions, always of a more or less flattened form. These nodules are used as a substitute for leaden small shot. Beyond ten or twelve yards’ range it is quite in- efficacious against the stoutly feathered sea-birds, and again and again the Turcomans expressed their amazement at the distance at which, with superior projectiles, I was able to bring down duck. The birds seem perfectly aware of the range of the Turcoman guns, and do not disturb themselves until the hunter approaches very closely indeed to them. It was a couple of hours after sunrise before my servant returned from Tchikislar, bringing with him the document kindly furnished by Colonel Malama, the Chief of Staff, which stated that I had been attached to the Russian columns, and recommended me to the Persian authorities at Asterabad. I immediately ordered my horses to be saddled, and my scanty baggage put in marching order. Though the Chief of Staff had been good enough to furnk h me with the passport to which I have alluded, I did not feel quite sure that, Pharaoh-like, he might not afterwards repent of his decision, and send a squadron of Cossacks after me to fetch me back to the camp, and force me to CROSSING THE ATTEREK ESTUARY. 151 proceed to Baku, which Colonel Shelkovnikoff had intimated to me was the desire of the Bussian authorities. Our way lay in a south-easterly direction, across a slimy waste of mud, in which our horses’ feet sank fetlock-deep, and across which our progress was slow and disagreeable in the extreme. A couple of miles off to the left were some rudely constructed fishing sheds, with highly-pitched sloping roofs, elevated on stout piles in the midst of the shallow water. They belonged to an Armenian merchant, who had a very extensive establishment of the same description in the mouth of the Peri Bazaar river near Enzeli, and for which I had been told he paid the Shah no less a license tax than 40,000Z. a year. Still further eastward are seen the low, sedgy banks of the river proper, before it merges in the lagoon, and, further off, vast forests of giant reeds, amidst which nestle countless myriads of sea-birds ; ducks, cranes, flamingoes, and many other waterfowl of whose names I am ignorant crowd these marshy solitudes or wheel shrieking above the waters in such incredible numbers as to seem at a distance like an angry storm-cloud surging before a whirlwind. Whole battalions of waders fringed the muddy shores, and the all but stagnant waters of the lagoon were white with acres of gulls. Pushing on further still in a south-easterly direction, we crossed some disagree- ably deep tidal guts, where the water reached to our horses’ girths, and made us very cautious in our advance. Then a sand- spit was reached, and, at its extremity, a canoe, hollowed from a single tree-trunk, styled here a tdimul, and conducted by an elderly Turcoman and his son, a boy of some twelve years, awaited us. We were close to the real channel of the Atterek, which here has excavated for itself a wide and tolerably deep bed. A few years ago the stream fell into the northern portion of the lagoon, but owing to quarrels among the Yamud Turcomans themselves 52 SWIMMING THE LAGOON a dam was erected some miles inland which turned its course, and it now flows almost across the centre of the back-water. Even when the water is at its lowest, this channel is altogether unfordable ; hence the necessity for the tdimul when crossing to the southern hank. The saddles and other effects were placed within the canoe, in which I and my servant also embarked. For a hundred yards our progress was more like skating over a muddy surface than floating upon water, but gradually, very gradually indeed, the depth increased ; our horses, whose bridles were held in our hands, stepped cautiously behind our frail bark, slipping and floundering as they picked their way over the muddy bottom. Gradually the water crept higher and higher along their limbs, until at length the animals were afloat. Horses in this part of the world take things like this coolly enough, and without the least hesita- tion they struck out, swimming close to our stern. Towards the middle of the channel the current is pretty rapid, and our flat-bottomed canoe heeled over in an alarming manner as it was paddled swiftly across the stream. A distance of fully half a mile had to be traversed before the horses lost their feet, and a third of a mile was swum across before they again touched bottom. Another half mile of paddling brought us again into excessively shallow water, where our old Turcoman and his son, stepping on to the mud, in which they sank nearly knee deep at every step, proceeded to drag us in the canoe to what they called the opposite shore. Shore, strictly speaking, there was none ; the point at which we landed, if I may be permitted to use the term, in this case being one in which we sank mid-leg deep. It was absolutely necessary to leave the canoe, so tha' : t might be dragged still further across the horrid mud-waste. I do not recollect that such a hideous wilderness of slime and desolation ever met my eyes, and, as we painfully A CROSS THE MUD FLATS. 153 waded along, pulling our tciimul behind us, we bore no distant resemblance to reptiles crawling over the surface of some Palaeozoic morass. Long and painful as was our progress southward, we could not soon succeed in reaching ground sufficiently solid to enable us to disembark our saddles and baggage, which were placed upon our horses direct from the canoe itself, as they stood alongside of it. It took a good half hour’s diligent scraping to remove the blue-black shiny mud from our boots sufficiently to allow our feet to enter the stirrups, as we mounted from the back of our old boatman. Far and near stretched the desert solitude of marly mud, strewn with algae and fish-skeletons. Then followed a long, dreary wading march, for the space of at least two hours. Nothing more desolate than these slimy wastes can well be imagined. It was a place where an ichthyosaurus might momentarily be expected to show himself, or some broad, dragon-winged pterodactyl come beating the wind heavily above one’s head. Then the ground became firmer, and sparse tamarisk bushes and mossy streaks topped the scarped banks, while great heavy-winged vultures crouched lazily, gorged with their banquet of decaying fish. As the ground assumed a solider consistence, long coarse sedge began to appear, and great numbers of water trenches furrowed the ground. Whether these were irrigation canals, or merely accidental off-shoots of the scattered branches of the Atterek, crossing its delta, I am unable to say. They were most puzzling to the traveller, for in some cases so deep was the mud at their bottoms that it was really dangerous to attempt crossing, and when follow- ing their banks in search of a more practicable fording- point one completely lost his way, there being no prominent landmarks by which he could guide himself. Patches of a thin, hungry kind of oats began to show, indicating our 154 KARAKCHI TURCOMANS. near approach to human dwellings, and after another hour’s floundering among partially inundated marshy sedge- fields, we saw the beehive-looking aladjaks of the village of Atterek itself, situated near the centre of the delta. The people of this village enjoy an unenviable reputation as thieves and marauders, and even among the neighbouring Turcomans, themselves not over- scrupulous in their con- duct, they are known as the Karakchi , or robber Turcomans par excellence. Worn out with hunger, I stopped to make some coffee. Though I wished to have as little as possible to do with the inhabitants, in order to procure fuel I was obliged to enter into conversation with some hang- dog looking shepherds who were tending a flock of scraggy goats and sheep. As I sat watching the fire they gathered round me curiously, evidently surprised to see two strangers venturing thus hardily among them. ‘ Were we not afraid to come there alone ? ’ they asked. ‘ No,’ I replied, ‘ what should I have to fear ? ’ At this they smiled. Doubtless the sight of my revolving carbine and pistol rendered them much more honest and hospitable than they would other- wise have been. As I was quite unacquainted with the district, and as there is no trace of a road, I resolved to push forward, still in a south-easterly direction, until I struck upon the telegraph line extending from Tcliikislar to Asterabad. By following this I should take the most direct line to the latter town. Before I had gone many hundred yards I struck upon the main southern branch of the Atterek, which winds in the most confusing manner. It was in vain I tried, at twenty different points, to ford it, and only after a couple of hours’ wandering did I perceive, far away to the left, the telegraph poles, towards which I directed myself. I was fortunately able, by follow- ing the track of some camels, which I noticed in the mud, to discover the regular ford. Beyond the river branch, GOKLAN- TEPESSI. 155 and still to the left, rose a high earth cliff, where the stream had eaten away the side of a large escar-like hill. This is known as Goklan-Tepessi, the hill of the Goklans. On its southern slope was another village of Karakchi Turcomans, situated within twelve hours’ march of Asterabad. As night was already falling, no choice was left me hut to risk taking up my quarters for the night in this thieves’ strong- hold. Huge savage dogs rushed out to assail us as we drew near the aladjaks, and we were obliged to draw our sabres to keep them at respectful distance. The inhabitants were assembled for evening prayers, in the very peculiar kind of mosque used by the Turcomans, and which I have already had occasion to describe when writing of the village of Hassan-Kouli. The oddest thing about these praying enclosures is that no particular sanctity appears to attach to them as there does to the roofed structures of the more sedentary Mussulman. In fact I have occasionally seen them used for purposes the reverse of sacred, and which certainly, in the eyes of any Mussulman, would he sufficient to desecrate the most thrice-blessed spot of ground. Of course, after being thus defiled they are not used again for purposes of prayer, but a new enclosure is prepared. Thus we find in the neighbourhood of any considerable village some scores of impromptu djamis, or open-air mosques, which have been abandoned. The sun had already set, and the sea-fog which hung along this low-lying coast produced a gloom unusual in the twilight of these Eastern climes. I stood beside my horses at a little distance until the evening orisons were completed, and then, drawing near a group of elders, requested hospitality for the night. They were evidently as much surprised to see me, accompanied by but one servant, venturing into their midst, as were their brethren of the village of Atterek, and for some time an omi- nous silence reigned among them. They were clearly trying 156 A POOR LODGING. to make up their minds whether they would accord me the sought-for hospitality, or proceed to confiscate my horses and other property, and it was with no small misgiving that I awaited the result of the conference. Presently, however, their better natures seemed to prevail, and an old, long-haired moullah motioned to me to follow him. The moullah, or priest, in Mahometan countries invariably has his head shorn as bare as his lay brethren, but should he belong to an order of dervishes he wears locks flowing upon his shoulders, and, with his egg-shell-shaped tiara, looks very like a ‘ pope,’ as the Bussian priest is termed. Under circumstances such as these which I am de- scribing, the chief, or at least one of the more important men of the community, usually takes charge of the stranger. In the present instance, however, I was conducted to the kibitka of the village smith. The furniture of the hut was miserable in the extreme, and denoted wretched poverty. Indeed, throughout the entire village the same was a salient feature. This is quite uncommon among the ordinary nomads, who as a rule are pretty well off— as well-being goes in these parts of the world — that is to say, they are well clothed, seldom, in their villages at least, lack adequate food, and the earthen floor of the aladjak is generally well furnished with carpets of no ordinary quality. After a while it struck me that the chief had relegated me to the smith’s aladjak to conceal his own incapacity for entertain- ing me in a proper fashion. It was with difficulty that a kind of tattered quilt could be produced, on which I was invited to be seated. At one side were a diminutive anvil, a couple of hammers, and two or three flat bars of iron, probably purchased at Tcliikislar. A heap of char- coal, and a rude bellows composed of a sheepskin, lying beside the fire, completed the entire stock-in-trade of this desert artisan. He was termed the usta-adam , the PARIAHS OF THE DESERT. 157 nearest comprehensive rendering of which in English would be handy-man, or Jack-of-all-trades ; for here there is no division into guilds, and one usta-adam acts in many capacities for the immediate population. He will make silver rings for the women, shoe horses, repair gun-locks, and even bleed a plethoric individual. In most Turcoman houses (especially in the neighbourhood of any Russian settlement) is to be found the samovar , or tea-urn. Here, in the entire village, there was not one. Neither was there tea, or sugar, or meat, or pilaff of any kind. A rude hand- mill was set in requisition, some coarse brown corn was ground, and a cake of bread was there and then got ready. This, with some rather salty water, was the only cheer which it was in the power of the smith to afford me. There was not even a kalioan, or water-pipe, amongst his household goods. One was borrowed from the moullah, but no tobacco was forthcoming, and it was with eager de- light that my host witnessed the production by my servant of a bag of the coarse, shell-like tumbaki used by smokers in these regions. Ere long, visitors began to arrive— less to interview the stranger and learn his object in coming among them than to enjoy the unaccustomed luxury of a smoke from the water-pipe. These Turcomans, I was told, belonged to the Ata-bai tribe, but they seemed a very dis- tinct sub-division of it, for they were Ishmaelites even among Ishmaelites. Them brethren of the same clan seemed to have fallen foul of them, and one of my visitors informed me that, a couple of evenings previously, their neighbours, the Ak Ata-bais, had surreptitiously carried off the greater portion of the horses which they possessed. It was with some uneasiness that I lay down to sleep, as I was in some apprehension that the people of the village might compensate themselves for the loss of their cattle by annexing mine before morning; and more than once in i5» THE ATTEREK DELTA. the course of the night I rose and went to the door to see if they were still tethered where I had placed them. My host, to do him justice, seemed equally on the alert, and doubtless he had good reasons for being so. Each time that a horse neighed, or we heard a trampling of hoofs, as he rose to shake himself, we started to our feet, and, seizing our arms, rushed to the doorway. When morning came, however, matters turned out to be all right, and giving my entertainer the sum of five francs for the night’s accommodation — a sum which he doubtless, poor man, seldom looked upon — I mounted, and taking leave of the chief, rode away along the crest of the Goklan-Tepessi hill to have a look at the surrounding country. The long, burnt-looking yellow sedgy grass grew plentifully around. I have often since, at all seasons of the year, seen this same kind of grass growing over different portions of the Turcoman plain, but never have I seen it of a green colour. Looking to the north and west from the hill-top, one had a capital view of the dismal expanse of the Atterek delta, its watercourses mapped out distinctly amid the reed and sedge-covered waste. Here and there were great pools of stagnant water, literally covered with aquatic birds, among which, in apparent good-fellowship, were to be seen fish- hawks, vultures, eagles, and carrion crows, forgetting their mutually combative tendencies in view of the bountiful supply of food which the half- stifled fish, wallowing one upon the other in the shallow water, afforded them. Here and there were patches of dense black, often half-a-mile in length, where the giant reeds of last year’s growth had been burned down by the Turcomans to prevent wild boars and jackals harbouring within them, for the former animals play sad havoc with the little cultivation which the Turcomans practise, and the jackals are always at hand, looking out for the domestic fowls which are occasionally to THE INTER-FLUVIAL PLAIN. 159 be found in the aoulls. A propos of domestic fowls, and especially in the villages bordering upon the sea coast and Atterek delta, great flocks of duck are reared by the inhabi- tants, but so nomadic are the habits of these birds, and so strong are they upon the wing, that it is all but impossible to distinguish them from their wilder brethren that people these solitudes in such vast numbers. I have frequently been astonished at seeing what I took to be a crowd of fifty or sixty mallards come flying into the midst of the village, and, forming in some open space, proceed to march in serried files into the aladjak devoted to them, and I have called down the wrath of the inhabitants upon my head by discharging my gun at them. They fly away for miles along the coast, keeping themselves carefully separated from the wilder sea-birds, and invariably return to their domicile at a certain hour in the evening. Away to the south stretched the immense interfluvial plain, separating the Giurgen and Atterek rivers, the scarce perceptible water-shed separating the respective valleys crowned by the long line of tepes, or earth mounds, which mark the line of ancient fortifications known to the Tur- comans as Alexander’s Wall, or, as it is more usually styled, the Kizil-alan, or 4 red road.’ Further away still, beyond the faintly seen forest growths across the Kara Su, loomed the snow-streaked ridges of the Demavend range of moun- tains, and to the right, along the Giurgen, the long line of ruined ramparts and towers marking the site of the now deserted town of Ak-Kala, once a principal seat of the Kadjar family — a member of which sits upon the throne of Persia to-day — and a powerful rival of Asterabad itself. It is now only a small mud fort, occupying the north-eastern corner of the old town, and garrisoned by a battalion of Persian infantry, which guards the bridge across the Giurgen, and at this point is all that remains of life in this 160 PIN- TAILED GROUSE— ANCIENT COINS. once populous locality. Two hours after sunset I started due southward, following the line of telegraph which leads direct to Asterabad. At every two or three hundred yards we disturbed immense flocks of pin-tailed grouse — goolgairook, as it is termed. In some of these flocks there cannot have been less than half a million birds. As they rose from the ground the surging of their wings sounded like distant thunder, causing our horses to start and rear with terror. The number of these birds that we met with on the plain passes all belief, and to me it seems marvellous that more use is not made of their flesh as an article of food, for when roasted they are excellent. Two hours’ ride brought us to one of the principal mounds of the Kizil-alan. It is called the Altonn-tokmok. This word, in Turcoman dialect, signifies ‘ gold-receiver.’ The name has been given to it owing to the frequency with which pieces of gold money have been found amidst the old parapet walls and towers of brick which still remain at intervals along its crest, just as the neighbouring mound of Gumush Tepe has been so called from the discovery of the large number of Alexandrian silver coins by some Turcomans when excavating a grave upon its summit. For many a weary mile the plain is absolutely unbroken, save where here and there some muddy irrigation stream, through being choked, has expanded into a treacherous mud-hole which incon- veniently blocks the way. Around these water patches have sprung up hundreds of acres of the enormous reeds which characterise the Atterek district, and which harbour every species of wild animal. While endeavouring to wade across one of these disagreeable obstacles we met with some dozens of Arab muleteers from Baghdad, going with their gaily- caparisoned animals to the Russian camp at Tchikis- lar. These men ordinarily ply as carriers between their native city and Meshed, rid Ispahan and Teheran. I ENCOUNTER WITH DOGS. 161 afterwards learned that these muleteers remained but a short time in the Eussian service, so great was the terror inspired by the Akhal Tekke horsemen. After eight hours’ march, the ordinarily stunted and withered grass of the plains began to assume a more ver- dant appearance, and vast herds of sheep, goats, and cows were to be met with, attended by wild-looking men and boys, all of them wearing the preposterous black sheep- skin hat of the country, and each armed with musket and sabre. Another hour’s ride brought us to the village of Giurgen, close to the river bank. Here, as is usual when approaching a Turcoman village, we were furiously as- sailed by scores of gigantic wolf-like dogs, whose invariable custom it is to surround the stranger, who, if on foot, is often in serious peril. Riding into the centre of the village, I invited the Turcomans, who stood at the doors of their kibitkas, highly amused by the predicament in which I was placed, to call off their dogs, who were leap- ing savagely at my boots and my horse’s nose, causing the poor beast to rear and kick furiously. One had seized by his teeth the extremity of the rather extensive tail of my charger, and, managing to keep out of range of his heels, held on like grim death. I drew my re- volver and exhibited it to the Turcomans, assuring them that if they did not immediately call off their dogs I would make use of the weapon. To this threat they paid no attention, and I was obliged to turn in my saddle and fire fully into my assailant’s mouth. As he rolled over on the sward, his companions, with the most admirable prompti- tude, withdrew to a safe distance ; and the Turcomans, rushing out with sticks in their hands, proceeded to beat them still further off, though at first I supposed that the sticks were intended for my own person. But a few yards away lay the deep, canon - like bed of the Giurgen itself, VOL. i. M 162 THE GIURGEN—NERGIS TEP£. fifty yards in breadth at its surface. The stream had cut its way in the stiff, marly earth to a depth of fully forty feet, and the earth cliffs went sheer down almost vertically. A little to the eastward of the village was an exceedingly steep ramp, leading to the water’s edge, by which camels and horses had access to the ford. Unless accompanied by a guide it is often very dangerous for a stranger to attempt a crossing of this kind, for rarely, if ever, does the fordable path cross directly to the opposite bank. In the present instance a kind of earth ridge, whether natural or artificial I am unable to say, led obliquely up the river and allowed the horseman to pass, his horse just barely avoid- ing swimming when the water was low. The opposite bank of the river was so steep that we were obliged to dismount, and, scrambling on hands and knees up the brush-grown slope, with many a stumble, we dragged our horses after us. Immediately southward of the river, the welcome sight of green grassy surfaces and trees greeted our eyes. Eight in front of us, at the edge of a dense forest, lay a village of the Ata-bai division of the Yamuds, called, after an ancient earth-mound close by, Nergis-tepe (Narcissus mound). The tomb of some modern Turcoman saint stood upon its top, and round its base was a line of breastwork, probably constructed by the hostile factions of the Kadjars during their struggles for supremacy in the early part of the century. The village itself was also strongly entrenched, as the Goklan and Tekke nomads made frequent incursions upon these Ata-bai Turcomans, who live, at least nominally, under Persian jurisdiction. The Khan, a. man of unusually large stature, and dark, sullen countenance, received me most ungraciously ; but as he could not be sure as to who I was, or as to the nature of' my mission, he was perforce induced to offer me hos- pitality in his kibitka for the night. Early next morning POMEGRANATE JUNGLE. 163 our way lay through cultivated fields, principally of rice, occurring at intervals in the midst of elm forests, chenar (plane-tree) groves, and brakes of giant reed, twelve to eighteen feet in height, and inhabited, I was told, by leopards and boars. After a mile or so the cultivated fields disappeared, and we were forced to follow wild-hoar tracks, through a dense jungle of pomegranate and thorn-bush, twined with creepers, to the swampy edge of the Kara-Su. Without following these tracks it would be utterly impos- sible to make one’s way, unless by proceeding axe in hand as in the primaeval forest. The ground was swampy, owing to the infiltration of the waters of the Kara-Su, and every kind of vegetation grew in luxuriance around us. Some cane and reed brakes had been burned down, and the springing shoots presented a deliciously green and tender appearance. After many months’ sojourn amid the desolate surroundings of the Russian camp at Tchikislar, and on the plains reaching away to the eastward, it is impossible to describe how delightful all this wild luxuriance of vege- table growth was to our eyes. We had done with the inter- minable sand-wastes, and the pitiless sun-glow from the surface of the scorched desert. The horses, accustomed to munch the stunted bitter shrubs of the plains, resembling rather diminutive heath brooms that had seen much service than aught else I could call to mind, seemed beside them- selves with delight, and could scarcely decide on which hand to choose a mouthful of succulent herbage, so great was the embarras de richesses around them. Ripe pome- granates dangled above our heads, and fell at our feet, a3 we forced our way along. After about an hour’s ride through this belt of jungle, rice-fields once more appeared, and the road then lay through a fortified Persian village, a kind of suburb of the town of Asterabad. Then, through the more open glades, glimpses were caught of the pictu- 1 64 DISTANT VIEW OF ASTERABAD . resque towers and ramparts of the town itself, gleaming yellowly in the noon-day sun. Seen from a distance, one might fancy himself enacting the part of the Kalendar in the ‘ Arabian Nights,’ and, after a weary wandering amidst trackless deserts, coming suddenly upon the enchanted city. Situated on the slopes of the Demavend Mountains, at all seasons of the year Asterabad is plentifully supplied with water, and as we neared the northern gate we crossed stream after stream, clear as crystal, flowing over their pebbly beds, and issuing by low archways under the town walls. In the shadow of the gate-arch sat the watchmen, smoking kaliouns of portentous dimensions, and keeping careful vigil lest any contraband merchandise should be introduced into the border city from the neighbouring Russian frontier. Then we threaded our way through the silent, ill-paved streets, where are the remains of Shah Abass the Great’s once famous causeway. The huge paving stones, tossed and tumbled in the wildest confusion owing to the traffic and neglect of centuries, offer a serious obstacle, even to the most sure-footed mule. Between high, ruinous mud walls ; then across an outlying street of the bazaar, with its rude sun-shade of leaves and branches stretching from housetop to housetop across the way ; and up to the British Consulate, where I was most kindly received by Mr. and Mrs. Churchill. SEAT OF KADJAR FAMILY. 165 CHAPTEK X. ASTERABAD. Seat of the Kadjars of Persia — Old ramparts — Shah Abass’ causeway — Wild boars, jackals, &c., in town — Atmospheric indices — Anecdote of Nadir Shah — Streets — Bazaar — Grocers, dyers, gunsmiths, &c. — Percussion gun- locks — Felt manufacture — Sun screens — Public story-teller — Turcomans and rice-dealers — Scarcity of grain in Mazanderan and Ghilan — Turcomans and Arabs in bazaar — Returned pilgrims — Persian mourning — Old Kadjar palace — Enamelled tiles — Rustam and the Div Sefid — Russian telegraphists and spoliation — ‘ Blue china maniacs ’ — Reflet metallique — Theory and examples — Wild boars and Persian servants — Anti-Koranic cookery at British Consulate — Results — Persian domestics — Nadir Shah and his descendants — Pensions and employment — Title of Mirza — Intoxicating bread and enchanted trees — Outskirts of Asterabad — Outlying fort — View from its summit. A description of any North Persian town of considerable dimensions would fit Asterabad exactly, as far as physical features are concerned, but its position on the extreme frontier and its antecedents endow it with noteworthy charac- teristics. Up to the time at which the present royal family of Persia ascended the throne, Asterabad was the principal seat of the Persian monarchs. Another branch of the Kadjars had formerly occupied the town situated on the hanks of the Giurgen, on the site of which now stands the Persian border fort of Ak-Kala, guarding the bridge of the same name. In this latter place and at Asterabad the rival branches of the Kadjar family had their respective head-quarters, and it was only after a protracted struggle that Asterabad took the foremost position, and that Ak- Kala was dismantled, and its inhabitants compelled to add 1 66 DERIVATION OF NAME— WALLS. their numbers to the population of Asterahad. There are two derivations of the present name, according to one of which the Persian word astra (a star) would be a com- ponent. The name is also derived from aster (a mule), and would in this case imply that some former monarch of Persia had there established great mule stables. The town itself, as far as I could judge, is about three miles in circumfer- ence, and is surrounded by ramparts and towers of unbaked brick, averaging thirty feet in height from the general level of the ground outside. They are at present in a very dilapidated condition, though there is still a pretence made of mounting regular guard upon them. The towers, where not entirely fallen into ruin, have a flat conical roof of red tiles, and the top of the parapet wall is thatched with a covering of reeds, to prevent the occasional heavy rains from washing away the substance of the un- baked bricks of which it is composed. Onl^ the base of the towers and walls is of baked brick, each brick being about a foot square and two and a half inches in thickness. Ruinous as is the condition of these walls, they are quite sufficient for the protection of the inhabitants against any coup de main which might be attempted by the Turcomans of the plains northward. Against an attack by a more formidable enemy its fortifications would he entirely useless, nor do I believe that the vainest Persian within its walls pretends otherwise. The enceinte of the ramparts is of an irregular quadrilateral form. There are three gates ; one opening on the plains to the northward towards Tchikislar, another looking southward, and the third being in the western ramparts. The old paved causeway constructed by the orders of Shah Abass the Great issues by this latter gate, and leads towards what is called the port of Asterahad, at Kenar-Gez. To judge by the portions of this causeway which remain intact, it would seem to have been of solid, SHAH ABASS ’ CAUSEWAY. 167 workmanlike construction ; the materials used were blocks of stone about a foot long by nine inches wide, roughly hewn, and forming a roadway some fifteen feet in width where it leaves the city gate, hut narrowing to eight feet at the distance of a mile from the walls. The stone blocks, once evenly joined together, which form its surface, are now tossed about in wild confusion, and protruding from the bottoms of water-pools and mud- sloughs, constituting so many obstacles in the path of the traveller. Apparently since the day of the construction of this roadway, no attempt has ever been made to maintain it in a practicable condition. From the northern gateway another section of this causeway leads across the plains in the direction of Shahrood. Within an arched guardway at each gate the semblance of a military guard is kept up, though nothing like a regular sentry is to he seen. The traveller, on arriving, perceives a pair of superannuated muskets lean- ing against the walls ; and some loose-vested Persians, squatting on a raised platform of brick, and smoking the inevitable kalioun, represent the custom-house officers. They keep a sharp eye upon the laden camels and mules entering the town, to see that rateable merchandise is not clandestinely introduced from the Eussian frontier. The greater portion of the space within the walls is taken up, partly with gardens and bare open areas, and partly, especially at the corners of the town, with a wild growth of jungle and briars. Here, at all hours of the day, and particularly towards sunset, wild hoars and their broods, jackals, foxes, woodcocks, and snipes are to he found. During my stay in the place I repeatedly visited these intra-mural hunting grounds in search of them. Along the ramparts are rain gullies and fallen portions of the parapet, which form gaps through which the wild boars enter and make their exit at will. I have seen as many as i68 WILD ANIMALS WITHIN THE WALLS . eight or nine of the latter, old and young, burst away from the briar thickets as I approached, and have watched them careering across the rice and maize fields outside, until they found shelter in the dense forest growth along the water-courses south of the town. As regards jackals, the numbers in which they assemble at nightfall, both outside and within the ramparts, are incredible. They are attracted by the dead bodies of horses, asses, and dogs, which are left lying in the more remote thoroughfares, and, passing at night by one of these carcases, one is pretty sure to see three or four jackals start away from their uncanny feast. The old ditches of the town are entirely choked up with briars and bushes, the haunt of every wild animal indigenous to the district, including the lynx and the leopard, but the latter rarely ventures within the ramparts. During the night the yelping wail of the jackal scarce ceases for a moment, and even under the very windows of the houses within the town itself, these impudent intruders are to be heard uttering their singular cry, in which they are generally joined by the numerous dogs of the town. The inhabitants say that when the dogs answer the cry of the jackals, it is a sure forerunner of fine weather, but that if the dogs remain silent rain or storm is certain to follow. I believe this to be tolerably correct, for I have on more than one occasion observed the accuracy of the prediction. In the north-eastern angle of the town is a quadrangular enclosure surrounded by parapets of very considerable relief, the town walls forming two sides of the space. This is the old citadel, and it is curious that in all North Persian fortified towns, both ruined and otherwise, which I have had opportunities of examining, the citadel invariably occupies this position in the north-eastern angle. This citadel is said to have been constructed by a governor of the town during the reign of the celebrated Nadir Shah, STORY OF NADIR SHAH. 169 who flourished about a hundred and fifty years ago, with the view of affording himself a safe asylum against his numerous enemies both within the town and in the sur- rounding territory. Nadir Shah, a soldier of fortune him- self, heard of these new fortifications, and, with a jealousy characteristic of him, sent to the governor to ask the meaning of his military preparations, deeming, perhaps, that the defences were constructed with a view of serving as a 'point d’appui to one of those local rebellions which seem to have been the order of the day in Persia at that period. The governor excused himself by stating that his defensive works were meant only for his own personal protection. Nadir Shah replied, ‘While I am living to protect you, you need not trouble yourself about your enemies, and when I am dead, it will be time for you to die also.’ I cannot vouch for the historical accuracy of this story. ‘ I give the tale as told to me ’ by the denizens of Asterabad. As in most Eastern towns, all the animation of the place is concentrated in the bazaar ; the rest is buried in hopeless dulness and dreariness. There are long, narrow, ill-paved streets, at best but a series of mud-holes, hemmed in by tall mud-walls, the houses, which occur at intervals, having their sides next the street, being entirely windowless, and presenting a blank expanse of plastered loam. Eubbish heaps are seen here and there, for the offal and off-scour- ings of each establishment are deposited in front of the little sally-port door, right in the middle of the street, and left to be trodden down to a level with the remainder of the roadway. There is no public functionary whose business it is to look after the rubbish ; hence the state of the streets may be better imagined than described. The only redeem- ing point in the midst of all this desolate loneliness and filth is that the tall mud walls are invariably topped by cluster- 170 PERSIAN LADIES . ing vine-tendrils, the dense foliage of the chenar, or the white blossoms of the almond and plum trees growing within. The appearance of the exterior of his house is a matter of secondary importance to an Oriental ; it is within doors that he concentrates all that he can afford of luxury or elegance, and this, in the majority of cases, is not much. In these silent thoroughfares one meets but few persons ; most of the inhabitants are either at the bazaar or within their houses. The streets of an Eastern town offer but few attractions to an habitue of it. This oval blue bundle, set on end, which comes gliding silently towards us, is a Persian lady, wrapped in the all- enveloping mantle of calico which shrouds her from head to heel, and is here styled the feridgi. From the summit of her forehead hangs a white linen veil, forming a point upon the centre of her breast, and concealing the face much more effectually than the modern yashmak of the Osmanli Turks, as worn by the fashionable ladies of Constantinople. The copious trousers are gathered in at the ankle in numerous elongated plaits, and terminate in the stocking, which is continuous with the trousers. These grooved, inverted cones of cloth, seen below the edge of the feridgi, give the wearer the appearance of having substituted two old-fashioned family umbrellas for her legs. The high-heeled slippers have just barely enough of upper to enable their owner to bear them upon the points of her toes. The heel, which is placed nearly under the centre of the foot, slaps up and down at each step. At Asterabad, as elsewhere in Persia, it is only the better class of Persian ladies who veil themselves. The females of the peasant and working classes make no attempt to conceal their features, but, should a man happen to be in conver- sation with one of them, he invariably, as a matter of etiquette, keeps his face half averted, and his eyes fixed upon the ground. BAZAAR. 171 The bazaar consists of a labyrinth of narrow streets, lined on each side with the booths of the traders and artizans. These booths, or shops, as I suppose some of them must he called, are merely square recesses, eight or ten feet wide, and as many deep, only separated from the street by a kind of step-like platform of wood or stone, on which the dealer arranges the commodities he has for sale, and behind which he sits, cross-legged, as a rule smoking the scarcely ever unlighted kalioun. All those of one business or trade have a separate street or quarter to them- selves. The more numerous are the grocers, or general dealers, whose booths seem to he furnished with every imaginable article of which the inhabitants stand in need. In addition to the orthodox tea, coffee, sugar, rice, and spices, they also sell ink, paper, percussion caps, bullets, iron small-shot, gunpowder, brass drinking cups, salt, knives, sulphate of iron, pomegranate rind, alum for dyeing purposes, and an infinite variety of other articles. Turning a corner, we come into an alley where ropes suspended from housetop to housetop support numberless curtains of deep blue and olive green calico. This is the quarter of the dyers, who seem to be, in point of number, the strongest after the bakhals, or grocers. They are to be seen working at their great indigo troughs, clad only in a dark-tinted waistband and skull-cap, their arms, up to the elbows, being of as dark a blue as the calico which hangs outside. A little further on, towards the outskirts of the bazaar, are the vendors of fruit and vegetables, whose leeks and lettuces, spread in front of their booths, are a constant temptation to the passing camels and horses. More than once I have had to pay for the escapades of my horse in snatching up a bunch of spring onions and incontinently devouring it under the nose of the merchant. There were great basketsful of pomegranates and oranges, for Asterabad and its neighbour- 172 METAL WORKERS. hood are famous for both these fruits, especially for the mandarin orange. Our ordinary orange is known as the Portugal, while the naranj is quite as sour as any lemon, and takes the place of that fruit in cookery or with tea. Near the centre of the bazaar is a long street devoted to the coppersmiths, who manufacture tea-pots, saucepans, and cauldrons, for almost every cooking utensil used in this part of Persia is of copper, tinned inside, the facility of working copper more than compensating for the extra price of the material ; moreover, the old vessels, when worn out, can be sold for a price very nearly equal to their cost when new. Now and then are to be seen cast-iron pots of Russian manufacture, but these are much more in use among the Turcomans of the Atterek than in Persian households. These copper utensils are wrought by hand, and the din of hammering which salutes the ear as one enters the parti- cular quarter of the smiths is perfectly deafening. By sheer force of hammering upon peculiar knob-like anvils, the bottomed cylinder of copper, three quarters of an inch in thickness, is made to expand to the most formidable dimen- sions. When finished, it is placed upon the fire, heated to dull redness, and a lump of tin is rubbed round its inside. In this street there is one particular spot which is set apart for those whose special occupation it is to cover the insides of pots and pans with tin. Then there are the gunsmiths and sword makers, who live in separate, though adjacent quarters. Here one may see every stage of the manufacture of a musket or rifle, from the forging of the barrel to the rude process for grooving it, and the fashioning of lock, stock, &c., all by the same workman. Asterabad enjoys a certain renown in Persia for the manufacture of gun-locks, and I have heard of a detachment of the nondescript soldiers who constitute the bulk of the Persian army being sent to this town, with their gun-locks out of order, so that they FELT CARPETS. 1 73 might be repaired. It is a singular fact that, neither in Persia nor among the Turcomans, even in the most remote districts, does one ever see a flint lock. They are invariably percussion. The locks are evidently exactly copied from a European model, even as regards the very carving and ornamentation ; they have nothing whatever Oriental in their appearance. The operations of the dealers in swords are generally confined to the manufacture of new scabbards, and the rehabilitation of old blades, for there seems to be a glut of the latter, which has doubtless existed from time im- memorial in Persia, so that the manufacture of new blades is seldom entered upon. There are half a dozen booths in which the jewellers and gold and silver smiths ply their trades. They are strictly operatives, and do not keep any stock on hand. If you wish for some article in silver or gold, such as a buckle, button, or sword-mounting, you must, when giving the order, supply the artist with gold or silver coin, as the case may be. He melts this down, and manufactures it into the desired object. The most important, and, indeed, almost the only exten- sive manufacture carried on at Asterabad, is that of felt carpets and mats, and the quarter occupied by the makers of these articles is one of the largest in the bazaar. I had noticed the excellence of the felt in use among the Turcomans of Krasnavodsk and Tchikislar, and had purchased several carpets of that material for use in my own kibitka. Until I came to Asterabad I was sorely puzzled as to the process by which this material was manufactured, but there I had ample means of informing myself upon the subject. Instead of being mere rectangular spaces, opening off the thorough- fare, each felt maker’s quarters consisted of a room twenty to thirty feet in length by about fifteen in breadth, with either a boarded floor or one of perfectly level beaten earth or cement. The raw material — a mixture of camel 174 PROCESS OF MANUFACTURE . and goat hair and sheep’s wool well beaten np together, and varying in proportions accordingly as the felt was intended to be dark brown or white — was laid in a loose layer about four inches in thickness upon a closely woven mat of fine reeds, somewhat larger than the piece of felt was intended to be. This was then beaten down with heavy, flat pieces of wood, until it was reduced to half its original thickness, and had assumed a compact texture. The ornamentation, generally consisting of arabesques and rude flowers of different brilliant colours, was put on by loosely spun worsted thread, which was laid by the hand in the required form. A strong, warm mixture of size and water was then copiously sprinkled over the whole, and the layer of felt material, together with the reed mat, rolled concentrically into a cylindrical form. In such guise the matting inter- vened between the layers of felt. The whole was then bound tightly with cords, and three or four men, placing their right feet naked upon it, all pressing simultaneously, rolled it slowly and by jerks from one end of the apartment to the other. As the felt grew thinner and denser, the com- bination was rolled more and more tightly, being undone from time to time to allow of a fresh saturation with size. When the felt had assumed the proper dimensions, and was considered to be sufficiently kneaded together, it was spread out in the sun to dry, the coloured pattern being thoroughly incorporated with the substance of the newly- formed carpet. The solidity and durability of this felt is wonderful, as I have been able to judge from having used a square of it as a saddle cloth for over twelve months without its in any way showing a breakage, or, even when exposed to heavy rain, becoming undone or at all loosened in the texture. The main central streets of the bazaar are roofed over with brick groining, which has holes in the side of each EASTERN STORY TELLER. 1 75 cupola to admit light, but the majority of them are simply covered with a sun-screen composed of rude poles reaching from the top of one shop to that of another across the way, and loosely thatched with reeds and small tree branches. In some cases gourds and grape vines twine among the rough rafters, the fruit hanging pendulously above the heads of the passers-by, and adding a redeeming feature of elegance to the general surrounding uncouthness. At street crossings, and through gaps where this roofing has fallen away, the blinding sunlight pours, throwing the adjacent portions of the bazaar into comparative obscurity by its contrast, and causing its inhabitants, half seen athwart the torrent of rays, to look like so many ghostly occupants of a haunted cavern. At the central point of the bazaar, whence branch off the main thoroughfares, is almost always to be found the Eastern story-teller — generally a wandering dervish. I recollect seeing such a public novelist at this point, seated upon a door-step, and holding a numerous audience entranced by the narrative which he was relating. He was a young man, of a rather distinguished type of feature, and long, glossy, raven hair flowed upon his shoulders. He wore a large Tartar hat of black sheepskin, carried a stout staff of about five feet in length, and had his calabash basket, for the reception of contributions, laid beside him. The exigencies of the story seemed to require that he should have some tangible object to address. He accordingly placed his great sheepskin tiara in the centre of the roadway, and apostrophised it with the most ludicrous earnestness, at the same time mimicking the replies which he was supposed to receive. It was evidently a humorous story, for the group of idlers and small boys standing round, and the merchants leaning over their wares, occasionally burst into loud and prolonged shouts of laughter. These dervishes have a never- failing method of extracting money from their listeners. i 7 6 HISTRIONIC SKILL. Were the story to be completed without interruption, the receipts would probably be very small indeed, for in this regard a Persian is utterly unconscientious. If be can get anything for nothing he will not allow any feelings of generosity to step in. The dervish, well knowing this, con- tinued his narration until he reached the culminating point of interest, and had wound up the feelings of the audience to the highest pitch. Then, taking up his calabash, he went the round of the crowd, saying that he required some encouragement to enable him to proceed with the wonderful sequel of his tale. His demand satisfied, the story was proceeded with. He shook his stick at the being that was embodied in his head-dress, raved at it, implored it, and ended by weeping over it. The acting was of no mean order, and a story-teller who possesses histrionic powers to any creditable extent is always sure of a crowd of eager listeners, no matter how old or how well-known the story which he recounts may be, just as we go to the theatre to hear a drama with which we are well acquainted interpreted by some celebrated actor. In the streets of the bazaar are generally congregated a dozen Turcomans from the outlying villages along the Giurgen, endeavouring to exchange sheepskins against the various commodities which the Persians offer for sale, or trying underhand to procure gunpowder and percussion caps, for the sale of these articles to the nomads is strictly forbidden by the central government. At the time of which I write, too, in Ghilan and Mazanderan, the dearth of cereals, owing to a succession of droughts, was so great as almost to amount to a famine. Owing to this fact, horses were being sold at almost nominal prices, their owners finding it impossible to maintain them, in consequence of the ruinous price of corn. The Turcomans also suffered by reason of this dearth in Persia, for as a rule they TURCOMANS AND ASTERABAD. 1 77 cultivate but little themselves, or at least did up to that time. They derived nearly the whole of their supply of rice from the North Persian provinces. Owing to the existing state of affairs, the Persian Government had issued a strict order forbidding the exportation of rice or corn of any kind, having an eye, no doubt, to the very large demands made by the Russian Commissariat at Tchikislar, which if complied with would create a severe artificial famine in those districts where there was already danger of a natural one. Though the Turcomans south of the Giurgen river acknowledge the government of the Shah, and pay an annual tax of one toman — equivalent to about ten francs — on each house, these wild subjects of Persia were included among those to whom corn was forbidden to be supplied. I have seen a Turcoman from the plains, who came to buy rice for the support of his family, and who had been refused by the merchant, standing in the middle of the street, calling down all kinds of curses on the rice- dealer’s head, and consigning him, his predecessors, and his posterity, to Gehennum. It seemed hard that this Turcoman should be obliged to return to his family unable to procure for them the food necessary for their daily sub- sistence, but he and his fellows who were then refused were to a great extent to blame for the predicament in which they found themselves. Most of these partially- settled Turcomans who dwell along the Atterek and Giurgen rivers usually lay in at harvest time, when prices are lowest, a stock of rice and other grain sufficient to last them during the ensuing twelve months. Tempted by the high prices given in the Russian camp, large numbers had disposed of their stock, thinking that they could replace it in the Persian markets. Indeed, for a length of time many Turcomans thus carried on an extensive trade, acting as middlemen between the Persians and the Russians. It was VOL. I. N 178 PRECA UTIONS— PILGRIMS. probably with a thorough knowledge of these circumstances that the Kargusar, or agent of the Minister for Foreign Affairs at Asterabad, had issued the stringent orders the effects of which I had seen in the bazaar. The Turcomans frequenting Asterabad generally come to the town fully armed — sabre at side, poniard in belt, and double-barrelled gun at back, permission being accorded to them to enter the town thus equipped probably in recogni- tion of the fact that they are subjects of the Shah. In other border Persian towns further to the east, and fre- quented on market days by the Tekkes, the latter were obliged to leave their swords and guns with the guard at the gate of the town, retaining only the poniard, or more strictly speaking the knife, which the Turcoman rarely parts with. The throng was occasionally varied by the grave, stately form of a Baghdad muleteer, with his diadem-like head-dress of twisted camel-hair over the sombre-tinted mantle which protects his head from the sun and weather and envelopes his whole person. These Arabs do not generally come so far northward, but on this occasion were probably on their way to the Russian camp. Whenever a pilgrim returns from one of the holy places — from Mecca, Kerbela, Meshed, or Kufa, he takes care to make the world aware of his newly-acquired sanctity. He rides through the bazaar and other public places, a crier preceding him and announcing the fact that a pilgrim has returned to his native city. Even women, unaccompanied, though closely veiled, thus proceed in triumph through the public places, and though the sight is one of pretty frequent occurrence, it seems always to attract a crowd of lookers-on. Among other curious Persian customs is the mode of expressing grief for the death of a friend or relative. Theoretically, the grieving one should tear his clothes, and bare and throw dust upon his head in true Oriental fashion ; PERSIAN MOURNING— OLD PALACE. 179 but as most Persians are not in a position to treat their garments in this manner, or, if in such a position, are by no means disposed to do so, they confine themselves to a very limited and representative kind of rending. A seam at the shoulder is carefully ripped open to the extent of an inch, or an inch and a half, and perhaps the end of the collar of the shirt is slightly undone, so that a small tongue of linen may protrude in front, and thus convey to the beholder that, although the tearing is little more than metaphorical, still custom has been complied with, to however slight an extent. Near the centre of Aster abad stands the old Kadjar Palace, where the Turkish family of that name once held their Court. At the time of my visit it was mainly occupied by the Persian Governor of the town, by various Govern- ment officers, and by the Persian and Russian telegraphic bureaux — the latter in direct communication with the camp at Tchikislar. Since then, however, the Russian rights in the telegraph line, with all its material and apparatus, have been handed over to the Persian Government . 1 According to an agreement drawn up between the two Governments, the Persian messages were all despatched between sunrise and sunset, the Russians having the exclusive use of the wire to Teheran and Tabriz during the night. For a place like Asterabad this old palace is one of considerable pretensions. It is built of large flat baked brick, of a reddish-brown colour, it« porticos being supported with carved and painted oak pillars. The walls of the main building and those of the inner courtyard are covered with finely- enamelled tiles, a foot square, ornamented with arabesques, inscriptions, and pictorial illustrations of that never-failing theme of Persian art, the adventures of Rustam, and his final combat with and conquest of the Div 1 This was on account of the laying of the Baku-Krasnavodsk cable, which gave Russia independent trans-Caspian communications of her own. i8o DEFACING OF WALLS. Sefid, a theme drawn from Persian mythology, and which seems as a rule to be the sole subject which can inspire a Persian pencil. Persians certainly have not that abhor- rence of representations of living creatures which seems so universal among the Sunnites, for not only at the Kadjar Palace of Asterabad, hut on the panels and over the door of every cafe and bath, as well as on the lintels of the very mosques, are to be seen depicted in gaudy colours, if not this same story of Eustam and the Div Sefid, other human figures, both male and female, the wine-cup being no in- frequent addition to the picture. There are great water tanks, fifty or sixty yards in length, girt with stone para- pets, and with what were once fountains in their midst ; and enclosed within the walls of the establishment are large spaces, once, I understand, superb gardens, and ‘ still where many a garden flower grows wild.’ With the exception, however, of a few neglected rose-bushes and some orange trees, there is little to be seen within these walls save weedy growths and tangled sedge struggling amid the dense brambles. I regret to say that the desire for encaustic tiles, and the ‘ blue china ’ mania in general, have wrought sad havoc with the decoration of this historic edifice. Here and there the walls had been stripped of their ornamental coverings, and the white plaster in which they were em- bedded stared in an unsightly manner beside half the head of Eustam and the tail of the Div Sefid. On inquiry I was informed, I do not know with what truth, that this spolia- tion was the work of the Eussian telegraph employes, who had forwarded the tiles for sale in Eussia ; but I have no doubt that the Persians themselves, hearing that such things were eagerly sought for in Teheran and Europe, and fetched handsome prices, had done their share of the de- struction. When I first saw the old palace, only a few of the tiles had been removed. Six months later, when I ANCIENT POTTERY. 1 8 1 again visited it, the enamelled panels were hopelessly dis- figured and broken up. Should the devastation have gone on at the same rate ever since, but little can remain of this ancient example of early Persian art. A propos of this, the blue china and Keramic craze had taken fast root in Asterabad among its European inhabitants, and what I was informed were priceless specimens of early Persian pottery were unearthed by the enthusiasts from the for- gotten closets and dusty shelves of inhabitants in the possession of whose families they had remained for many centuries. The peculiarity of this Persian pottery is that, while it has all the external appearance of the finest porcelain, it is really composed of delicate brown earthenware, somewhat resembling hardened Roman cement, and covered upon the outside with a thick creamy glaze. Some of the plates and dishes of large size present, on a white ground, patterns in that beautiful blue tint so much admired by the ‘ maniacs ’ at home, but the tinting is by no means confined to this colour. There is a peculiar kind of bottle, closely resem- bling in form those Indian water-bottles of porous clay, but of slenderer neck and far more graceful form, the body often presenting a series of lobe-like divisions similar to those of a peeled orange. These generally have that golden, purple, or amber gleam, with prismatic colours when seen obliquely, which is known to the initiated as reflet metallique. The colours seen when the surface is viewed by reflected light are exactly similar to those observed on the surface of still water over which is spread a slight film of tar. Some of these bottles are reputed to be of great age, dating back, it is averred, over eight hundred years. This conclusion is arrived at from the position and nature of the sites from amidst which they were dug up. The art of producing this delicate Keramic ware is now entirely lost in Persia, 1 82 CASHIS— REFLET METALLIQUE. the native pottery of to-day being of the rudest and coarsest description. The plates and dishes in use among the better class of Persians are either of silver, tinned copper, or porcelain imported direct from Eussia or China. Some two or three centuries ago an effort was made to revive the art of manufacturing earthenware similar to the ancient specimens, and artists, invited from China, established themselves at Cashan. At their manufactory were pro- duced the later specimens of finer Persian earthenware, particularly the large dishes "with the deep blue pattern which I have mentioned above, and "which are known to the inhabitants by the name of Cashis. These artists, not receiving due encouragement, returned to China, taking with them the secret of the glaze with which they concealed the roughness of the material forming the basis of the articles which they produced. There is some difference of opinion as to the nature of this reflet metallique , so much admired by collectors. Some will have it that the peculiar prismatic effect and golden tints were intentional, and knowingly produced by the artist, while on the other hand there are those who maintain that it is the result of de- composition of the silicates contained in the glaze, just as we see prismatic colours produced upon old lachrymatories and other ancient vessels taken from Roman and Etruscan tombs. I have seen an example of Cashis which seemed to support this latter theory. It "was in the possession of Mr. Churchill, the then British Consul at Asterabad, who had purchased it in the place itself. It was a large flat dish, nearly two feet in diameter, and of a brownish amber tint. Some irregular dashes of deep grass-green colour served as ornamentation, and on viewing its surface obliquely I could distinctly perceive that where the brown and green colours touched, there were irregular streaks of reflet metallique , so distributed that it was quite impossible WILD BOARS. 183 they should have been intended as part of the general decorative effect. I give this example for what it is worth, as I do not pretend to be an expert in these matters. I have already alluded to the wild boars which penetrate within the walls of the town. They occur in extraordinary numbers in the surrounding country, and, looking from the ramparts over the adjoining fields of springing rice and corn, one sees them dotted at intervals of eight or ten feet with the large black heaps where the boars have been at work, rooting up the soil. One might imagine that a detachment of sappers had been engaged in throwing up a series of rifle pits, or that the ground had been subjected to a heavy plunging fire of shells. Such is the devastation produced by the wild boars and their broods that it is found worth while to maintain a body of professional hunters, whose sole occupation is to destroy these animals. Enormous quantities are killed annually, but their numbers do not appear to be perceptibly lessened. The inhabitants never on any account make use of the flesh of the boar as food, being in this respect unlike the Sunnite Turcomans, who will sometimes eat boar’s flesh, though they do not like to do so openly on all occasions. While at Asterabad I observed an amusing instance of the aversion with which the flesh of the boar is regarded by the Shiia. Persians. Mr. Churchill, whose kind hospitality I was at the time enjoying, was exceedingly desirous of obtaining some wild boar’s flesh, but though he made repeated attempts to induce the hunters to bring him a quarter of one of the animals which they were killing every day, he could not succeed. At length, however, a hunter specially retained by himself to furnish him with game of different kinds agreed that as soon as he had shot a boar within a reason- able distance of the town he would give notice to that effect immediately, so that a portion of it might be secured before 1 84 A COOK'S PROTEST. the jackals discovered and devoured the carcass. By these means a head, a couple of hams, and other portions of the animal were procured, and were conveyed with the greatest secresy to the Consulate. The cook, by dint of lavish bribery, had been persuaded to prepare some of the flesh, but he only undertook to do so on condition of the affair being kept a profound secret between himself and the Consul. However, his fellow-servants by some means discovered that wild boar was being cooked in the house, and at once entered a protest, and one day the whole of them, including the cook, appeared in a body before Mr. Churchill, and respectfully begged to state that they could no longer remain in the house. The cook said that as he passed through the bazaars he was scornfully pointed out and jeered at by the merchants and passers-by as a cooker of boar’s flesh, that his life was miserable, that even his own family avoided him, and that he could not endure such suffering. A compromise was arrived at, and the cook and other servants agreed to remain on condition that the object of their abhorrence, the remaining boar’s flesh, be immediately thrown out, which was accordingly done. This will give some idea of the intense religious prejudices of these people. Yet these very servants, who are so scrupulous in the matter of adhering to Koranic diet, are in other matters, such as cheating their employers in the most egregious and bare-faced manner, influenced by no scruple whatsoever. Neither are they virtuous in the matter of intoxicating drinks, for a Persian, of this or any other class, will drink himself into a state of blind inebria- tion on every possible occasion, although the consumption of these liquors is quite as much at variance with the teaching of Mahomet as the eating of the flesh of * unclean ’ animals. A Persian servant does not as a rule ask high wages, forty francs per month being considered PERSIAN SERVANTS. 185 fair average pay ; but he counts upon at least doubling this sum by illicit gains and fraudulent transactions in the market. It is vain to imagine that such robbery can be avoided. In Persia it is entirely infra dig. for a European of any standing to make his own purchases at a bazaar, and even if he did so he would infallibly be cheated by the merchant, as he cannot possibly be aware of the fluctuations in the prices of the articles which he requires. The servant and the shopkeeper conspire to make an overcharge, the extra profit thus obtained being divided between them. The latter individual dares not refuse this arrangement, as in such a case the servant w^ould carry his custom else- where. The same system is adopted in the purchase of oats and fodder for horses, and in every other imaginable matter in which the Persian servant has the handling of the smallest amount of money. Apart from their thievish - ness, Persian servants are, as a rule, exceedingly insolent, unless they be kept within proper bounds with a strong hand. The use of the stick as a punishment for dishonesty and disobedience is a matter of every-day necessity throughout Persia, and the castigation is technically known among the culprits as ‘ eating the sticks.’ While staying at Asterabad, I met with an interesting personage — the great-grandson of the celebrated Nadir Shah, the last monarch who ruled over old Persia in its entirety, from Candahar to Tiflis, and from the Persian Gulf to the Oxus. The Shah Zade, or prince, as this gentleman was entitled, was between sixty and seventy years of age, and of a remarkably truculent expression of countenance. His vast forehead, widening towards the top, and receding markedly, his pointed hooked nose, arched near the brow, and his small, cruel grey eyes, gave him, I was told, a very strong resemblance to his renowned ancestor. Like all the other Shah Zades in Persia, and 1 86 A SHAH ZADA— SUPERSTITIONS. their name is legion, whose descent from a former sovereign is well authenticated and indubitable, Zenghis Mirza was in receipt of a pension from the Shah amounting to the munificent sum of sixty tomans , or 24 1. sterling, per annum. This was given in recognition of his real descent. The amount does not strike a European as being large, but a native Persian in a provincial town can subsist comfortably upon it. Besides this allowance to the Shah Zades, care is taken to provide them with Government employment of one kind or another, generally as chiefs of telegraphic bureaux. When I was at Asterabad, the chief of the telegraph station there was another Shah Zade, a grand- son, if I do not mistake, of Feth Ali Shah. I afterwards met with another descendant of Nadir Shah, a Shah Zade named Daoud Mirza, who was one of the principal officials in the Meshed telegraph office. This title of Mirza, when used as a suffix, means 4 prince,’ but when placed before the name simply signifies a secretary, or scribe. The derivation of the name, as I am informed, is Emir Zade, or ‘ son of prince.’ Why it should be applied as a prefix to the name of a secretary it is difficult to say ; perhaps it is because in the days when the title originated only such regal persons were supposed to possess the accomplishments of reading and writing. This, however, is only a hypothesis of my own. The inhabitants of Asterabad hold the peculiar belief that the bread made in the town exercises an intoxicating influence upon strangers; and there are trees standing beside one of the numerous streams which traverse the town — centennial clienars (lime trees), with great branch- ing roots arching the channel, which are supposed to bewitch the individual who stands under their spreading boughs after the sun has set. Half-witted people are pointed out among the population, and the xisterabadi will OUTSKIRTS OF ASTERABAD. 1 87 tell you, with a grave shake of the head, that ‘ that is what comes of standing under such-and-such a tree after night- fall.’ The outskirts of Asterabad are eminently fertile, and highly cultivated, especially to the south and west. The water-supply is copious, for perennial streams flow from the huge mass of the Elburz mountains, which, rearing their terraces height over height deep into the blue sky of Persia, and clothed high up their slopes with a dense forest growth, form a picturesque background. These woods, which even in the plain leading to the base of the mountains, mingle largely with the cultivated ground, abound with every kind of game, pheasants especially ; and the ahou, or mountain antelope, often strays from his craggy abode, par- ticularly during the winter, when snow covers the herbage. To the west of the town, and connected with it by long lines of ramparts enclosing a triangular space three quarters of a mile in length, is a steep, artificially terraced hill — some work of fortification reared in past ages to dominate and protect the large watercourse which, flowing from the hills, joins the Kara-Su. It is ordinarily the camping place for the Persian troops when, as is usually the case, a consider- able force garrisons Asterabad. From the summit of this mound a magnificent view of the plains stretching north and east is obtained — a vast, violet-grey sea of dreamland, with mingled zones of ethereal orange and azure, its horizon mounting to meet the vaguely tinted sky that hangs over it ; the home of mystery, replete with the memory of colossal events in the history of the human race , across which have swept the hordes of Zenghis and of Timour, and doubtless many another army, in the dim old prehistoric days. Even as I gazed, an army was marching across these expanses towards the east — the reflux of the tide of nations that had so long set westward. 1 88 AN EXPLANATION CHAPTER XI. FROM ASTERABAD TO GUMUSH TEPE — A PERSIAN MILITARY CAMP. Persians and Turcomans — Mutual opinion — Persian fortified villages — Jungle — Depredations of wild boars— Former cultivation — Possibilities of irrigation — Turbe, or saint’s tomb — Persian entrenched camp of Ak Imam — The Kara-Su — Ancient bridge — Inferior Persian armament and uniforms — Conversation of Mustapha Khan about Tekkes — Description of former — Veli Khan and his Mirza — Camp music and muezzims — Persian physician — Mediaeval ideas — Absurd conversations — Position of Australia — Afghan troopers — II Geldi Khan — Dangers in jungle — Tea, water-pipes, and chess — Interfluvial zone — General insecurity — Turcomans’ opinion about Geok Tepe — Giurgen river — Arrival at Gumush TepA Banished from the camp at Tchikislar, I had come to Asterabad in order to be within reach of the Russian columns, and to have it in my power to know what was happening from time to time at the former place. Various rumours of unusual activity on the part of the Tekke Turcomans reached me, and though, owing to the hospitality of Mr. Churchill, I was exceedingly comfortable at Asterabad, I resolved to move out into the plain between the Atterek and Sumbar rivers as far as Gumush Tepe, a point which would afford me many facilities for ascertaining what was occurring within the Russian lines. Travelling over the intermediate country was rather a ticklish undertaking, in consequence of the near proximity of Tekke raiders, who pushed boldly forward towards the sea-board, and of the never over-scrupulous parties of Turcomans of various tribes, camped and wandering, between the Atterek and the Giurgen. PERSIANS AND TURCOMANS . 89 It was an hour after sunrise as I rode through the bazaar on my way to the northern town gate. Early as was the hour, every one was astir and about his daily business, for the Persians are not morning sleepers, though they make up for their rising betimes by abandoning work at two or three in the afternoon, after which hour the bazaar is deserted and silent. Outside the gate, watering their horses at the stream which flows out of the town by a subterranean issue under the wall, were some dozens of Persians and Turcomans, all armed to the teeth, and evidently not over- confident in each other. At a distance of a mile out in the plain they would be far from associating so closely. Even the Persian soldiers have an exceeding dread of the denizens of the kibitkas along the Giurgen. A Persian officer, who was evidently above the ordinary pre- judices of his class, once said to me that with equal forces the Turcomans were always perfectly certain of victory when fighting with the soldiers of the Shah. The Turcomans are far from having so mean an opinion of themselves as this officer entertained of his comrades-in-arms. I once heard a Yamud Turcoman aver, in the most serious and evidently sincere tone, that any one of his race was a match in battle for nine Persians, a statement which, in view of some astonishing facts which have come under my notice, did not seem so exceedingly incredible ; though I was forced to doubt one of the portions of his argument — viz. that one Turcoman could be counted upon as equal to three Eussians, while one of the latter would be sure to come off victorious in an encounter with three Persians. The old earth-brick wall and crumbling towers were picturesque and mellow-tinted in the early sun rays, and the jungles of stunted oak, pomegranate, and reed were bright with late autumnal colours ; for around Asterabad, winter, properly speaking, had not then set in. Half a mile from 190 FORTIFIED VILLAGES. the town the irregular causeway merged into a foot-path twelve inches wide, formed by the passage of men, horses, and camels through the bamboo-like reeds which, with their plumy tufts, rose to a height of fifteen feet on either side. At intervals, through occasional openings in the jungle, glimpses were caught of far distant stretches of the vast Steppe, deep azure, with golden morning streakings ; and here and there a slender, sombre line of trees marked the course of the Giurgen and its tributaries. Scattered amid the dense growth of briar and reed, and five or six hundred yards apart, were numerous Persian villages of from twenty to thirty houses each. The character of these villages is entirely different from that of the Turcoman aoulls or ovas to be met with five or six miles further on in the open, and which, with rare exceptions, have no kind of defence around the groups of circular felt huts, or aladjaks, the inhabitants trusting entirely, in case of an attack, to their personal prowess on horseback. The Persian villages, on the contrary, are surrounded by loop-holed walls of mud, from twelve to fifteen feet high, strengthened with rude flanking towers and a fosse. The houses are oblong structures of mud, the high sloping roofs of reed-thatch being supported upon a tangled maze of branches, and projecting into wide rough eaves. The edifice bears considerable resemblance to a dilapidated crow’s nest. Close beside each dwelling, within a rough courtyard, were a couple of sleeping stages, each consisting of a platform raised on four poles to a height of ten or twelve feet from the ground, and having a sloping roof of reed. Here the inhabitants, during the sultry summer months, take their nightly sleep. The entire aspect of these villages, with their primitive fortifications and guarded gateway, spoke eloquently of the general in- security pervading the district, and of the justly founded fears of the population. Notwithstanding all the efforts of A WILD ROAD. 191 the Russian and Persian Governments, persons of both sexes are occasionally carried into captivity by the neighbouring nomads, and murderous affrays between Persians and Turcomans are of everyday occurrence in the immediate vicinity of Asterabad. Deep, miry irrigation canals are met with at every hundred paces, crossed by rude, ricketty constructions of wood and earth, inconvenient at all times, and dangerous to the belated traveller overtaken by evening in these swampy jungles, removed but one step from their primaeval state. The little cultivation that exists in this direction is mainly of rice and a species of oats. The fields are enclosed by earth banks and briar hedges, intended to prevent the depredations of the wild boars, which swarm in the neighbourhood. Hundreds of these animals are annually killed by the peasantry. Their flesh is left a prey to jackals and lynxes, who make short work of each carcass. The heads and skins are suspended from the branches of trees, with the idea that they will intimidate the surviving animals. On many trees I have seen from ten to twelve thus suspended, and in one instance twenty- two. Following the road in a north-westerly direction for three or four miles, the jungle and reeds began to give place to wide tracts of open country, covered with luxuriant grass. To the left towered the huge ridges of the Elburz mountains, now all capped with snow, their slopes and the plain bordering their bases densely covered with forest growth. To the right stretched the boundless expanse of the great ^alt steppes, growing drearier and more desolate with every pace to the northward. Nothing could be more striking than the sudden transition from the redundantly luxuriant vegetation around Asterabad and along the hill slopes to the horrid barrenness of plain across which lies the road to Tchikislar. The source of this unmitigated desolation 192 IRRIGATION SCHEMES. seems to me to be the almost absolute levelness of the plain. At least it gives no path for streams of ordinary dimensions. On the melting of the Elburz snows great torrents tear their way across it, reaching the Giurgen. A portion of the water stagnates in great marshes, which dry up on the commencement of the natural heats ; but regular natural irrigation there is none, and a naturally fertile territory is thus blighted beside a plentiful water supply. Wherever artificial irrigation has been brought to bear, the desert springs into life ; and to judge from the traces of large channels which I repeatedly crossed, this border district must have been once in a high state of cultivation. Many systems have been proposed to facilitate irrigation — among the rest to build vast dams across the mouths of some of the great Elburz gorges opening to the northward. The water of the melting snows would thus be retained, forming great supplies which could at need be led away across the plain, instead of tearing a destructive path for themselves in the early summer days. However, it is idle to speak of such enterprises when many others, infinitely more easy to accomplish, remain unthought of and unattempted in this home of neglect. Apart from the great three-terraced sepulchral mounds which dot the plain, the only prominent object is a large domed * turbe, or tomb, of some local saint, believed by the inhabitants to be that of a nephew of Hussein, one of the heroes of the Persian religious plays. As far as the eye can reach, Turcoman villages of forty or fifty huts each are scattered over the plain, and numerous herds of cattle tended by nomads, armed and on horseback, are continually met with. A four hours’ ride from Asterabad brought me to a Persian entrenched camp of about fifteen hundred men, consisting of two infantry regiments and one of cavalry, who accom- panied the Governor of Asterabad, Mustapha Khan, in his A PERSIAN CAMP.— SOLDIERS. 193 tour for collecting the annual tribute from the Turcomans. At this season the latter migrate into Persian territory to obtain winter forage for their flocks. In the present instance, the threatened hostility of the Tekkes against all those tribes which had in any way aided the Eussian advance along the Atterek had greatly increased the usual migration. The Persian camp of Ak-Imam was situated in the midst of a plain, here and there dotted with patches of forest growth, offshoots of the great woods. Along the hills close by runs a sluggish stream, the Kara-Su, one of the southern tributaries of the Giurgen. All around are marshes of a most unhealthy character, filling the air with pestilent malaria. A massive red-brick bridge of three arches, half concealed in the great cane-brakes, spans the muddy stream. It is now entirely unused. Not a trace of a road exists at either extremity, both of which debouch upon jungle and marsh. It was evidently one of those bridges over which passed the great causeway of Shah Abass, leading to Gez and the South Caspian coast. The Persian camp consisted partly of tents, some square, some bell-shaped ; and of shelter huts constructed of sheaves of reeds ingeniously put together. It was surrounded by a rampart mounting two field batteries, the greater number of the pieces being old smooth-bore bronze guns. There * were three or four bronze rifled twelve-pounders. The troops were armed with a long smooth-bore musket, bearing date from the ‘Fabrique Eoyale de Saint Etienne, 1816,’ not long previously converted from flint-lock to percussion. The physique of the men seemed fairly good, although, probably owing to the malaria of the marshes, they did not appear to be in good condition. During the cold December nights, also, their uniforms were miserably deficient, com- posed as they were of blue calico tunics and trousers, the former faced with red; a sheepskin shako, and canvas vol. 1. o H 194 A PERSIAN GENERAL. sandals of no particular pattern. They have, as a rule, no overcoats, a poor kind of blanket being the only extra clothing — if I can give it that name. I had an interview with Mustapha Khan, the commander of the camp and Governor of Asterabad. We had some conversation about the Tekkes. He had, he told me, been engaged in many combats with these latter, and found them to be remarkably good soldiers — that is, as cavalry. Their infantry, he said, he had had but little to do with. They only fought when their homes were attacked, as was the case at Geok Tepe (Yengi Sheher) when Lomakin attacked them. Tekkes, unless well mounted, never ventured any distance from home. This implied that the speaker had never got close to the Tekke centres. For the reason he gave, he didn’t believe that Noor Berdi Khan, the then commander at Geok Tepe, had so many infantry with him at Bendessen as was currently reported. He even doubted if he had any. The fifteen thousand cavalry and eighteen guns he could under- stand. The guns could only be regarded as position guns, intended altogether for defensive action. They would never be trusted within reach of the Cossacks. The cavalry would be, no doubt, very efficient in cutting off convoys. This was their forte. He believed the Russians would have hard work even to reach Merv, without speaking of establishing themselves there, which was nigh impossible until the Caspian settlements were much better organised, and railway and other communications from the West established. The General’s ideas coincided very much with those I had pre- viously heard expressed by Russian officers of superior grade. After the usual Persian glass of very strong black tea, I took leave of the Commander-in-Chief, and went to present a letter of introduction to Yeli Khan, commanding the in- fantry. The Commander-in-Chief was an old-fashioned Persian, who wore the usual semi-bedgown sort of costume. VEIN KHAN. 195 and stained his beard and finger-nails red with henna. The brigade commander, on the contrary, was semi-European in his garb, and, to my intense delight, spoke a little French. His secretary, Mirza Abdurrahim, spoke the language with fair fluency. It was close on sunset when I reached Yeli Khan’s tent, consisting of two pavilions separated by a space enclosed at each side by a canvas wall. The band was performing on some kind of clarionet- like pipes, and what seemed to me muffled drums. The smothered kind of music produced seemed as if issuing from under a feather-bed. Then the evening gun thundered out ; and a wild flourish of trumpets was executed, after which, the cliaunt of various muezzims rose on the evening air. The chief of them appeared to be of advanced age, as well as I could judge from his quavering notes. They reminded me irresistibly of the efforts of a belated Bacchanalian endeavouring to reproduce some very senti- mental ditty in an exquisitely pathetic fashion — and com- pletely failing. I presented my letter of introduction, and give the following as a specimen of an interview with a Persian dignitary. After some conversation on general topics, the Khan told me that he had badly sprained his ankle some time before, and asked me if I could prescribe for him. In the East all Europeans are supposed to be deeply versed in the healing art. I recommended a band- age moistened with cold water and vinegar, and cold water poured from a height on the ailing joint every morning. ‘ We have an excellent surgeon attached to the brigade,’ said the General, when I had done speaking. ‘ Then,’ said I to myself, ‘ why do you consult me ? ’ ‘ He is coming directly,’ said the General ; 4 he will be glad to see you.’ Shortly after, a tall, handsome, intellectual-looking man, with coal-black beard and piercing eyes, made his appear- ance. He was the surgeon. A conversation about Euro- 196 ASTROLOGY AND SURGERY pean politics followed. After a pause, the subject of the sprained ankle again came up. I repeated my prescrip- tion. ‘On what scientific grounds do you base your remedy?’ said the doctor. I explained. ‘What would you say to a dozen leeches ? ’ asked the hakim. Glad to get out of the subject, I said that the remedy was excellent. Not at all. No chance of getting off so easily. ‘ I presume you are an astronomer ? ’ went on my interlocutor. ‘ W T ell,’ I said, not exactly understanding the sudden transition from sprained ankles and leeches to the stars, ‘I know something about the science.’ ‘ I presume you can foretell a favourable conjunction for the application of the leeches, and drawing the blood of his Excellency ? ’ My gravity was put to a severe test ; but taking a long pull at a water pipe, or kalioun, which having gone the round of the company was in turn handed to me, I uttered the usual pro- longed sigh after such an indulgence, and gasped out between suppressed laughing and half- suffocation that I regretted my science was not of so profound a nature. Upon this the hakim, casting a triumphant glance around, sank back upon his heels and fingered his chaplet of amber heads. He felt that he had completely floored me, and need not say more in order to show up my utter ignorance of medical science. I, for one, blessed the stars that had rescued me from the chirurgico-astronomical discussion. The hospitality I met with was without bounds ; so great and so minute in its details as to be embarrassing, but inter- spersed by singular questions which made me doubt my own sanity or that of my questioners. One gentleman wished to know what was the thickness and height of the walls of the Palace of Crystal which he had been told existed in London. Another desired to be informed whether all Franks wore long boots like mine, and whether I took them off when I went to bed. When just on the point of GEOGRAPHICAL NOTIONS. 197 going to sleep on my bamboo couch, a young officer begged for some instruction in the French language ; and subse- quently growing enthusiastic on the subject, asked me to dictate to him a love-letter to his sweetheart in that lan- guage. I explained that I was not sufficiently acquainted with Eastern phraseology to take the initiative, and asked for a specimen, so that I might gauge the nature of the desired epistle. Hereupon my companion favoured me with some sentences, so replete with buhlbuls, roses, gazelles, and other agreeable animals and plants, that a Franco- Persian lexicon of natural history would have been abso- lutely requisite in order that I might do justice to his effusion. Another example of the oddity of Persian ideas. I happened, in the course of conversation, to mention Australia. The General turned to his secretary, and asked where that country was. The secretary hesitated for a moment, but immediately said that he was not sure whether it was in the Sea of Marmora or that of Azoff, but that he knew it was somewhere in the neighbourhood of America. At daybreak next morning I was summoned to the tent of the Commander-in-Chief, who told me that in case I thought of starting that day for Gumush Tepe I could take advantage of the departure of a Turcoman Khan who was going in that direction. Some Afghan troopers would also accompany me. I have already alluded to these Afghans — all of them Sunnite Mahometans, who constitute the main strength of the Persian cavalry in the northern provinces. They are the descendants of the colony planted along the border by Nadir Shah after his return from his expedition to Afghanistan. The Turcoman chief, by name II Geldi Khan, a sly-looking man of some thirty-five years of age, agreed that I should accompany him. He could not for I9& TURCOMAN AMUSEMENTS. the life of him make out what I wanted prowling about in the desert. He had a vague idea that I might belong to some order of dervishes in my own country ; but the notion which found most favour with him was that I had been sent by the Padishah to take stock of his villages and camels with a view to taxing them later on. This latter idea had its origin in the widely- spread rumour prevailing here, about the proximate occupation of Herat by English troops, and their possible march in this direction. At one of the Khan’s villages, about two hours’ ride from the camp, we dismissed the Afghan escort, my conductor offer- ing to supply another of his own clansmen, for though both the Persians and the Turcomans are nominally living under the jurisdiction of the same sovereign, they take every opportunity of harming each other. No single Turcoman will venture into the pomegranate jungles, amid which are situated the fortified Persian villages which constitute the suburbs of Asterabad. To do so would be to incur almost certain death, for these outlying Persians invariably go about armed and in groups, and never lose an opportunity of ‘ potting ’ a nomad, and vice versa. Such events are of almost daily occurrence in the neighbourhood to which I allude. While waiting the preparation of som e pilaff, I had an opportunity of witnessing some of the Turcoman indoor amusements indulged in during the long winter period of in- action following the gathering of the harvest. They spend much of their time drinking scalding hot water, faintly flavoured with tea ; but when they cannot possibly swallow any more, and have passed the water-pipe round sufficiently often, they engage in a kind of game of odd and even, played with the knuckle-bones of a sheep’s foot, some of the pieces being stained red. The elders occasionally play chess, usually on a cotton handkerchief divided into squares by lines of black stitching. The squares are all of the same colour. The CHESS.— PRECA UTIONS. 199 chessmen are of the most primitive pattern. The top of a cow’s horn does duty as king ; a similar article of smaller size as vizir , or queen. The knights are represented by upright pieces of bone, each having two notches. The bishop, or, as the Turcomans term it, fil , or elephant, is a piece of something in any shape ; while the castles, or rokhs, have the form of mushrooms. The game is the same as in Europe, with some difference in the method of castling, and division of the first two-square moves of each pawn into two, two pawns being simultaneously moved forward one square each. They play very fairly, and even in the midst of the game make the moves with the most amazing rapidity. The spectators enter into the spirit of the game with the greatest enthusiasm, chattering and squabbling over the relative merits of the different moves. This inter-fluvial zone was debatable ground, over which one could not move with any guarantee of security. The Yamud Turcomans were on the qui vive about the Tekkes, who had cut the telegraph line between Tchikislar and Asterabad, and strangers were on their guard against Turcomans of every description. As a rule I found the present generation of Yamuds an honest, hospitable people, ready to do a great deal, even for a Kaffir and Ferenghi like myself. The older members, who had been in- fluential slave-merchants, and whose worldly wealth had been drawn mainly from traffic in Persian captives, were content to fall in with the new state of affairs, and allow a stranger to pass freely. Still, even these latter, reformed though they were, warned me against certain groups of their own nationality inhabiting the vicinity of Asterabad. I was counselled never to show that I had any sum of money about me, and, when saluted on the road by the usual ‘ Where are you going ? ’ to give a reply calculated to mis- lead my questioners if I wished to sleep securely that even- 200 SELAM ALEIK.—GEOK TEP&. ing. This feeling of insecurity was everywhere pre- eminent. A dish of pilaff, as in this instance, is laid among the folded legs of the community. The host, before touch- ing the food, exclaims Selam aleik, ‘ Peace be with you,’ and until the same salutation is returned, hands are not dipped in the dish. In the case to which I now refer, it was not a religious or habitual practice only, hut, as it were, the challenge and reply of the sentry and patrol. Nine splendidly mounted horsemen, each armed with sabre and musket, accompanied me on my way to the coast. They were friends upon whom I could rely, for we had eaten together, the challenge of Selam aleik being somewhat similar to the American one at an hotel bar, ‘ Will you drink or fight ? ’ Owing to one of my horses having become sore-backed, I had to pay six francs for an extra one for baggage ; for here, however willingly a feed of rice may be given you gratis, corn, hay, and horses have to be most religiously paid for. As we rode over the plains covered with short, withered grass, I talked with my host about the battle of Geok Tepe— the green hill or fort- where the Russians met with their serious check. He insisted that the Russian loss was tremendous, and that two guns had been taken. He seemed to think that the Russians had been disposed of for at least five years to come, and that their ultimate success was impossible so far as Merv was concerned. Of course his notions about the Russian losses in the battle were formed on an Eastern scale of exaggeration. He could scarcely understand my reasoning when I told him that when only two thousand troops were engaged, the losses could not be what he estimated them. From his con- versation I learned that the Turcomans, too, considered the Russian advance in the direction of Merv as finished for the next four or five years I could not agree with him in FORDING THE GIURGEN. 201 that ; but I felt tolerably sure that the Russians would next time appear in much more formidable numbers than on the past occasion. During the expedition against the Tekke, as during the campaign in Armenia, the Russians sadly underrated the power of their adversaries. In each case a tremendous check was the result — in Armenia at Zevin, in Turkestan at Geok Tepe. In Armenia the Russian laurels were retrieved at the Aladja Dagh and Kars ; in Turkestan it was at Yengi Sheher and Askabad. It is impossible to be aware of the presence of the Giurgen River till one is within fifty yards of the bank, so flat is the plain, and so clear cut the deep river bed. For a quarter of an hour we searched for a passage, and at length forded the river, our horses almost swimming — that is to say, swimming were it not for the weight of their riders. Another two hours’ ride through swamp and prairie brought us to Gumush Tepe. 202 A PERMANENT AOULL, CHAPTER XII. GUMUSH TEPE. Maritime Turcomans — Luggers— Dug-out canoes — Permanent Turcoman set- tlements — Gumush Tepe mound — Old town of Khorsib — Kizil Alan — Old earth mounds — Alexander’s wall — Former palm groves — Geldi Khan — Turcoman interior — Female costume — Children’s silver-mounted caps — Turcoman toilet — Occupations and dietary of Turcomans — Tea drinking — Economy of sugar — Absence of animal food — Fuel — Astatki lamps — Tcheliken salt — Yaghourt — Visit to Tchikislar — Salt plains — A rebuff — Every-day life at Gumush Tepe — Makeshifts against rain — The tenkis — Precautions against storm — A rush for water. The village, or aoull, of Gumush Tepe is one of the very few permanent Turcoman settlements which exist along the Eastern Caspian shore. It is situated within about two miles and a half of the mouth of the Giurgen river, and consists in ordinary times of six hundred to eight hundred kibitkas. The resident population occupy themselves almost entirely in fishing, though no inconsiderable portion of their animal food is supplied by the vast flocks of sea-birds which are to be found in their immediate vicinity, at the capture and killing of which they are very expert. Owing to Gumush Tepe being within easy reach of the forests border- ing upon Kenar Gez, ‘ the port of Asterabad,’ as it is styled, though it is nigh thirty miles distant from that city, and of the other wooded tracts immediately south of the same place, it is one of the principal points from which the wooden frames of the Turcoman houses of the interior are supplied. At the village itself, and from a point three miles above it, the river Giurgen is at all seasons unford- TURCOMAN BOATS . 203 able. On the left bank of the river, and at its mouth, are some very considerable Armenian fishing stations, where the sefid mahee, or large Caspian carp, are caught in enormous numbers, dried, and sent off to different parts of Russia. Caviare, also, forms a considerable portion of the products of these establishments. At Gumush Tepe the river is about eighty yards wide, the Turcomans in- habiting both banks, but principally the northern one. The fishing-boats of the population number from seventy to a hundred, and lie at anchor at the rude landing stages of rough piles and reed fascines which enable them to dis- charge their cargoes. These craft, now exclusively em- ployed for fishing purposes, and, when I saw them, for the transport of wood, fuel, and forage to the Russian camp at Tchikislar, were formerly largely devoted to piracy, and to Turcoman descents upon the Persian coast. They are of two kinds. The keseboy is a lugger of some forty feet in length, is decked fore and aft, and has two masts, carrying large lateen sails. The kayak, or lodka, as the Russians call it, is a craft somewhat smaller in dimensions, decked only at the forecastle, and having usually but one mast, though in some cases it possesses a very small second one at the stern. There is also the taimul , which is simply a dug-out canoe, formed of a single tree-trunk, flat bottomed, not more than two feet wide, and vertical sided. These latter, however, are scarcely ever used except for the service of the larger boats, or for expeditions up and down the river, or ferrying purposes. Besides Gumush Tepe there are at present but three permanent Turcoman stations on the East Caspian coast. These are Hassan Kouli, the aoull close to the camp at Tchikislar, which I have already described in some detail, and another in the vicinity of Krasnavodsk, or Shah Quaddam (the footprint of the king), as it was called before the 204 THE TWO-HORNED ALEXANDER. descent of the Russians. The houses composing Gumush Tepe have no pretension to arrangement in streets ; they are scattered indiscriminately over the area occupied by the village, and are, with few exceptions, the regular dome- shaped, felt-covered residences which are to be met with all over Central Asia. A few wooden houses raised upon poles, copied from the Armenian fishing- sheds, were also to be found, and half-a-dozen rude buildings of brick, the materials for which had been taken from the ancient remains lying about two miles to the northward. The aoull itself is called after these latter, which form to-day only a long earthen mound from twenty to thirty feet in height and about one hundred yards in length, the surface and base being strewn with large flat bricks some fourteen inches long by twelve in depth and four in thickness, of a brownish yellow colour, and as hard as iron. The name Gumush Tepe, by which this hill is known, is derived from the fact that considerable quan- tities of silver money have been discovered there from time to time, and that such coins are still found there after heavy rainfalls, or when graves are dug for the dead of the neighbouring village. I am credibly informed by both Turcomans and Russians that large numbers of these pieces bear the impress of the head of Alexander the Great — ‘the Iskander Zulkarnein,’ or two-horned Alexander — the name by which the great Macedonian is known amongst all Eastern peoples. This mound has been used for ages by the nomads as a burying-place, as for this purpose they select the highest point of ground within any available distance of them; and the excavations made in digging graves have done much to destroy its ancient contour, and to obliterate any intelligible remnants of the structures which indubitably existed upon its summit. Turcoman tradition speaks of an ancient brick-built town which formerly occupied this mound and its environs, and which r Tc Ear cl Sitli^Tepz PART OF Kim GUM US H TEPE HILL. 205 is said to have borne the name of Khorsib. Along the ridge of the hill of Gumush Tepe, the plan of which is that of a quarter of a circle, run the foundations of a brick wall, nearly three feet in thickness, and continued from its western end. These foundations follow the level ground, and disappear under the surface of the Caspian, the waters of which, at ordinary times, are distant some two hundred yards from the extremity of the hill. I say sometimes, for when a wind from the west prevails the water advances at least half this distance inland. From the eastern end of the hill the foundations stretch in a straight line to the south- east for at least a hundred yards, when they again turn, in a more or less north-easterly direction, for a distance of two hundred yards, then changing abruptly to the north-west for more than three hundred yards, and again in a due easterly direction, reaching far away into the plain, where they join the Kara Suli Tepe, an enormous mound, also covered with scattered baked brick, and presenting ample evidence of having once been strongly revetted and otherwise fortified. About fifty yards from where this wall leaves the eastern extremity of the hill branches out in a south-westerly direction another line of foundations, which also runs to the water’s edge. This latter, as well as that from the western extremity of Gumush Tepe, seems to have constituted some kind of landing pier, which enabled craft to discharge their cargoes despite what must at all times have been a very limited depth of water. The bricks scattered far and wide around the hill and along the walls are in many in- stances water-worn and rounded, and are mixed with large quantities of broken pottery, sometimes roughly enamelled blue, and fragments of glass, the surface of which presents the prismatic colouring of weather-worn silicates. These foundations are named by the Turcomans the Kizil Alan, or red road, as they maintain that they do not represent a 206 THE KIZIL ALAN. wall, but simply a narrow causeway, by which the swampy grounds, formerly lying to the east of the mound, were traversed. In fact, old men told me that less than half a century ago the mound of Gumush Tepe was entirely sur- rounded by water, and my host at the aoull at the mouth of the Giurgen informed me that thirty years previously the site of the village was submerged. That was consider- ably within his own memory, as he was between sixty and seventy years of age. This Kizil Alan can be traced in an easterly direction, running along, in a zigzag fashion, the slightly raised and almost imperceptible water -shed which separates the Giurgen and Atterek rivers, and connects the numerous earth-mounds or tepes which, occurring at in- tervals of from one to two miles, dot the interfluvial plain and reach away to the town of Budjnoord, not far from Kuchan. These mounds, with the connecting wall-founda- tions, or whatever they are, are known to the Persians and Turcomans by the name of Alexander’s Wall, and form a triple line of entrenchments, the mounds of one line alter- nating with those before and behind, and intervening between the wooded mountain slopes of the North Persian territory, and the vast plain reaching away to Khiva. One can place but little reliance upon these tradi- tions, for the Easterns of these regions almost invariably attribute to Alexander any works of considerable magnitude whose origin is lost in the night of time. They just as probably belong to periods of various dynasties of early Persian monarchs, and the mounds themselves may very likely have been the sites of villages in the times when these plains were inhabited and cultivated ; for exactly similar ones are to be seen to-day along the north of Persia, covered with inhabited houses, and their brows surrounded by entrenchments. A propos of the ancient cultivation of this plain, it seems to be clearly indicated by the traces of ANCIENT MOUNDS . 207 old irrigation trenches of considerable dimensions. The people of Asterabad say that two centuries ago the ground between the mountains and the Giurgen was one vast grove of palm trees. Of course I give all these tradi- tions for what they are worth, and just as I heard them from the inhabitants. The names of the principal mounds, as we proceed from Gumush Tepe along the Giurgen in the direction of Asterabad, are the two Kara Suli Tepes, greater and lesser, Carga Tepe to the right, Sigur Tepe to the left, the Altoun-tokmok, lying a long way due east, the Aser Shyia far off to the south-east, and the Giurgen Tepe south of the usual ford across the river. There are scores of other tepes within view of any one of them, but I do not consider their names of any philological or historical im- portance, as they are comparatively modern ones, applied to them by the Turcomans, and merely explanatory of some peculiarity in form, or having reference to their relations to certain water-courses. In view of the large amount of brick scattered around Gumush Tepe itself, along the course of the Kizil Alan, and on the flanks of the different tepes, one is led to the irresistible conclusion that considerable buildings formerly existed in this locality, and that these buildings have been destroyed, partly by domestic influences, partly during the marches of Eastern conquerors of old, and doubtless to a very large extent to supply building materials for neighbouring Persian towns. Immediately on arriving at the village of Gumush Tepe the chief who escorted me brought me to the house of his father, Geldi Khan, who seemed to be patriarch of the entire district. He was over sixty years of age, with refined aquiline features, cold grey eye, a long white moustache and chin tuft, there being no sign of beard upon the upper portion of his jaws. Seated around him, in different parts of the aladjak, were the female members of his family, all 20S GELDI EUAN. occupied in domestic work, such as spinning, weaving, and cooking. The Khan told me that he had been three months in Teheran as the guest of the Shah, with whom, he said, he was on very good terms. He had three sons, the eldest of whom, II Geldi, had escorted me across from the Persian camp ; the second was known by the name of Moullah Killidge. This latter was a student of theology, and by courtesy had the title of Moullah conceded to him ; in fact, the same dignity is accorded to anyone in these parts who is able to read and write. In other Turkish countries he would be simply styled Khodjah. The third son, a youth of fourteen or fifteen, superintended the grazing of his father’s flocks and herds. An old Turcoman named Dourdi was told off to provide me with lodgings in his kibitka . He was the immediate henchman of the old Khan, from whom he rented his house. In villages like this the chief generally owns a large number of dwellings, which he lets for small annual rents to his followers. The kibitka which I was to share with Dourdi was but poorly furnished, even for a Turcoman hut. As usual, in the centre of the floor was the fire, the smoke from which escaped by the circular opening in the centre of the roof, or by the door, when owing to bad weather this central aperture was closed with its hood of felt. A small and battered brass samovar stood near the fire ; beyond it, on the side farthest from the doorway, the floor was carpeted with thick felt, upon which were laid, as seats for people of more than ordinary rank, smaller sheets of the same material, and of brighter colours. Around the room, to the height of four feet, were horizontally piled a large number of stout tree-branches, sawn into convenient lengths, and intended for the winter supply of fuel. This wood was kept within proper limits by vertical stakes, stuck into the ground outside the heap, the top of which was used as a kind of rude shelf or counter upon which bolsters, DOMESTIC ARRANGEMENTS.— DRESS. 209 quilts, and other sleeping appurtenances, were piled, these being, indeed, with the exception of the carpets, large and small, and a rude horizontal stone corn-mill, the only articles of furniture which the house contained. An old Russian musket, bearing upon the lock-plate the date 1851, but having of late years evidently been supplied with a percussion lock, hung, together with a sabre and a large chaplet of brown stone beads, against the lattice-work of the habitation. This combination of musket, sword, and beads, seemed at the time to be no inapt embodiment of Turcoman ideas, or, for that matter, of Osmanli ones either. Beside the fire crouched an elderly crone, who, whatever she might have been in her youth, was now the very incarnation of female ugliness. She was engaged in preparing the evening meal, and seemed not in the least disturbed by my entry. I may here add that, with the exception of very recently married ladies, no Turcoman woman makes even a pretence of veiling her features. It is not usual, either, for a Turco- man to have more than one wife, the fact being that most Turcomans find it difficult to provide what they consider a sufficiency of food, and do not care to have any extra mouths in their aladjaks. The majority of the women at Gumush Tepe wore the characteristic female attire of these countries — a pair of trousers fastening closely round the ankle ; over these a long shirt of some dark red or purple material, the breast of which, in many cases, was ornamented with coins and pieces of silver hung in horizontal rows. At Gumush Tepe it was principally the young girls and newly- married women who affected much personal adornment, the near contact of the Jaffar Bai Turcomans of the place with the Russians at Tchikislar, and with the Persians at Asterabad, having made the elders of the community appre- ciate the value of silver and gold coins as a medium of exchange as too great for them to be allowed to lie idle for vol. 1. p 210 DRESS. purposes of mere bodily ornamentation. The further one advances to the eastward the less the value of money is understood, and the more plentifully do the ladies decorate themselves with it. On state occasions, however, the Yamud women wear ponderous collars of hammered silver, em- bellished with flat cornelians and lozenge-shaped panels of embossed gold, and on their heads a hideous-looking hat of the size and shape of an ordinary bandbox, the front of which is hung over with festoons of small coins. Hung over the back of this absurd head-dress, and reaching to the small of the back, is a long-sleeved coat of crimson, blue, or green, a smaller one, fitting closely to the waist, being worn over the red shirt. This is the gala costume of the ordinary classes. The wives of chiefs and of the richer villagers wear on all occasions the full quantity of clothing and ornaments, with the exception of the hat. This is then replaced by a large red handkerchief, tied turban-wise around the head, one end falling along the back. I have already described the costume of the male Yamuds, when speaking of Tchikislar and Hassan Kouli. The children, even in the severest weather, are very scantily clothed indeed, their entire costume consisting of a short red shirt which scarcely reaches to the knees. The head is covered with a little skull-cap of the same colour, around which are generally hung five or six pieces of silver money, the top being sur- mounted by a small silver tube, rising from a hemispherical base. This appendage to the head-dress of children is common to both sexes up to a certain age, and seems to bear some resemblance in symbolism to the Eoman bulla , just as donning the huge black sheepskin hat seems equi- valent to investment with the toga virilis. It is a remark- able fact that though Turcomans are notoriously given to thieving, these children’s hats, each with its eight or ten shillings’ worth of appended coins and ornaments, are DAILY LIFE.— A RUDE TOILET. 21 hardly ever purloined, though the wearers fling them at each other in the most careless manner. I have seen half- a-dozen of them lying about without any owners being in sight. Sometimes, however, they go astray, and on such occasions the individual who volunteers to act as village crier walks among the kibitkas, proclaiming in a loud voice that the hat of So-and-so’s child has been mislaid, and requesting the finder to bring it to a certain kibitka. I enquired of my host whether theft of this kind was usual, but he said that it was rare indeed that the missing article was not returned intact. The mode of life of the Turcomans along the Caspian is sufficiently active. Fully two hours before sunrise they were awake and about, and, by the light of the smoky astatki lamps, the women were to be seen grinding, by the rude hand-mill, the corn required for the morning’s repast, while the men got ready their luggers and taimuls to proceed on their day’s fishing, to convey loads of hay and other commodities to the Russian camp, or to seek firewood or timber for building purposes at Kenar Gez. A Turco- man’s toilet is simplicity itself. I give Dourdi’s as an example. Having donned the kasgun which served him during the night as a coverlet, he swept the carpet on which he had been sleeping with his huge sheepskin hat, which he then proceeded to dust by banging it lustily with the heavy iron tongues. Then, taking a piece of fat from the pot upon the hearth, he greased his boots with it, finish- ing up by washing his hands, using as soap the wood ashes from the fire. At the time of which I speak, the middle of December 1879, the Turcomans of Gumush Tepe supplied the Russian army at Tchikislar with a very large amount indeed of corn, rice, and fodder, and to a great extent facilitated the first stages of its march to Geok Tepe. The dietary of an ordinary Turcoman is by no means 212 DIETARY. luxurious. Before the sun rises he partakes of some hot half-haked griddled bread, which has an intensely clayey taste and odour. This is washed down by weak black tea, and he thinks himself fortunate if he can now and then procure a piece of sugar wherewith to sweeten this draught. When he happens to meet with such a luxury, he adopts, with a view to economy, the Russian peasant’s method of sweetening his tea. A small lump of sugar is held be- tween the teeth, the tea being sucked through it. Several glasses are thus got through with an amount of sugar which would scarcely suffice for one glass taken by a Western European. While the Turcomans of the Caspian littoral and a hundred miles inland use only black tea, their more Eastern brethren constantly consume green. Should he be at home, his mid-day meal consists of pilaff, made of rice if he be in funds, or of brownish oatmeal if otherwise. The only usual accompaniment to this is a little grease or butter, boiled through the mass, or, as is more generally the case, some dried salt fish. Sometimes on fete days, dried plums and raisins are mixed with the pilaff. The evening meal, partaken of a little after sunset, is the best of the day, and for it is secured a small portion of mutton to accompany the pilaff, or a couple of wild ducks caught or shot by some male member of the family. While at Gumush Tepe I existed almost exclusively upon wild fowl of one kind or another — pheasants, partridges, and pin-tailed grouse — - several of which I got boiled at once, keeping a number over to be eaten cold. Some of the ducks and geese are really excellent, hut others are so fishy and rank as to render entirely inedible half a dozen good ones boiled in the same pot. The pelican and solan goose are greatly admired as food by the Turcomans, though I could not appreciate them. There was one thing about Turkestan which I could never understand, viz. the absence of flesh diet to an extent FUEL AND LIGHTING. 213 that seemed unreasonable, considering the vast flocks and herds possessed by the inhabitants. I could readily under- stand their unwillingness to slaughter oxen or cows, as the former were employed in the tilling of their scanty fields, and from the latter were derived the milk, butter, and cheese, which they either consumed themselves or sold to the neighbouring Persians. It is true that from the sheep they derive the material for some portion of their gar- ments, though most of their clothing is composed of cotton and camel-hair, but even so, the large flocks of sheep and goats which they possess would supply them more than twenty times over with abundance of textile fabrics. I know that during the progress of the Eussians, sheep were largely bought up by the Commissariat of the expedition ; but I have been in places where this was certainly not the case, inasmuch as the residents were hostile to the Muscovite advance. The fuel used by these maritime Turcomans is generally wood brought from the neighbouring Persian coast, supple- mented to a great extent by the dried dung of camels and other animals. The kalioun, or water pipe, is almost always ignited by means of a dried ball of horse’s dung as large as a small- sized apple. This is carefully prepared before- hand, from the fresh material, piled in heaps in the sun, outside the house, and brought in by a dozen at a time. These balls catch fire like so much tinder ; one is placed on the bowl containing the tobacco, and the smoking is commenced. The first pulls from the pipe, as can be easily imagined, possess a very peculiar flavour, owing to the mingled smoke of the fuel and the tumbaki. At night, the interiors of the kibitkas are lighted by means of rude earth lamps, very much resembling small tea-pots, with exceedingly long and wide spouts. A bundle of cotton rag is stuffed into the spout, and, reaching to its 214 YAGHOURT AND CHEESE. bottom, serves as a wick, the flame being fed by the black residual naphtha called by the Eussians astatki. This, as I have already mentioned, is the residuum after distillation of the Baku petroleum. It produces a lurid red, smoky flame, five or six inches in height. The salt, of which the Turcomans make large use both in cookery and for curing fish, is brought from the island of Tcheliken, in large blocks of two feet in length and eight or ten inches in thickness, quarried by the Turco- mans of that island from the great striated layers which abound there. It exactly resembles, in colour and texture, the rock salt known in Europe. One rarely sees milk used in its crude state among the Turcomans, as they seem to deem it unhealthy when so consumed. It is first boiled, and, when lukewarm, fer- mented. The resulting product is, when fresh, slightly sour, and becomes exceedingly so after the lapse of twenty- four hours. This is known to the Yamuds by the name of yagliourt ; it is called by the Tekkes gatthuk, and by the Persians mast. It enters largely into the dietary of all three, and in hot weather is exceedingly refreshing and wholesome. The panir , or cheese, is simply yagliourt from which the serum has been drawn off, and which is allowed to strain and become more or less solidified in small bags suspended from the roof, a little salt being added to pre- serve it. ' I had been but a few days at my new home when I learned that my friend II Geldi Khan, who had escorted me from Ak Imam, was about to proceed over land to Tchikis- lar, and I resolved to go with him. We were accompanied by a dozen horsemen of his tribe, for it was rumoured that Tekkes who had fled from Geok Tepe were roving over the plain. We found an immense number of kibitkas in groups of from fifteen to twenty, scattered over the SALT PLAINS. 215 plain some miles east of Gumush Tepe. They were those of Eastern Turcomans, who, terrified by the events occur- ring in the Akhal Tekke, had decided to move well within Persian territory. Refugees were continually arriving, bringing with them great numbers of camels, and we saw a cavalcade of Turcoman women, dressed in bright scarlet robes, and riding in curtained horse-litters, making the best of their way westwards, in the midst of their tribes- men and friends. Within ten miles of the top of the Atterek delta, the point at which we were to pass, we came upon a vast salt expanse. It was as white and even as a new snowfall, and I could only with difficulty bring myself to believe that it was not covered with snow. Long black tracks, produced by the passage of camels and horses, stretched away in every direction. Not a blade of any kind of herbage varied the monotony of this ghastly waste. During my subsequent wanderings in the plain, I never met with anything so remarkable as this salt expanse, for the existence of which I can only account by supposing that the waters of the Hassan Kouli lagoon, pressed forward by winds from the west, sometimes overflow the ground, and that the shallow waters, rapidly evaporated by the great heat of the sun, leave this deposit behind them. We stopped for the night at the Turcoman village of Atterek, to which I have had occasion to refer in describing my journey from Tchikislar to Asterabad. We were very hospitably received, a sheep being killed for our entertainment ; and before daybreak next morning, after a breakfast of hot, greasy bread, and an immense quantity of sugarless tea, we pushed forward, reaching Tchikislar about eleven o’clock in the forenoon. My friend the Khan had formerly com- manded a troop of irregular cavalry in the Russian service, composed of his own countrymen, but in consequence of some backsliding on his part in the matter of pay given 216 EXPELLED FROM TCHIKISLAR. to him for distribution among his command, he had been banished, and forbidden to return. Hence he was rather chary about making his appearance among the Eussian lines — a hesitation which was apparently very well justified, for we had no sooner entered the camp than the chief of police marched up to us, and told my companion that the sooner he departed from its limits the better it would be for him. I fared no better, being warned that my presence was not desired, and we were both given until the morrow to retrace our steps. Seeing that there was little or no stir in the place, and that all military movements were for the moment at an end, I again took my way back by the road I had come, in company with II Geldi and his following. We arrived at our starting-point without any new incident. Finding that there was a constant intercourse between Gumush Tepe and Tchikislar, owing to the continued pass- ing and repassing of luggers with hay and other supplies, and that Armenian dealers frequently passed through our village with a view of purchasing food at that place, to be sold by them at second hand to the encamped Eussians, and that through their medium I might be constantly informed as to the movements of the troops, I resolved to make a lengthened stay with old Dourdi. Here, during a residence of some months, I had ample leisure for ob- serving the manners and customs of the Yamud Turco- mans, and as I shared the same one- chambered kibitka with my host, his wife, his niece, and a young child, and participated in their daily life, I had excellent opportunities for judging of Turcoman domestic life. There were certain inconveniences attendant upon this gregarious mode of existence, for the circular chamber was but fifteen feet in diameter, and some member of the family was always present. Consequently, when one wished to perform his ablutions, or to change his clothes, he was generally RAIN SHELTER. 21 7 obliged to do so in the dark, or under cover of his quilt, after the family had retired to rest. Our sole bed consisted of a thick felt carpet, spread upon the bare earth, our bolsters were of enormous dimensions, and our bed- covering was composed of a stuffed cotton quilt, and did not, I regret to say, bear the appearance of having often been washed. This, on very cold nights, I supplemented by my great sheepskin overcoat ; but as a fire generally smouldered on the hearth, towards which our feet were directed, we passed the nights snugly enough. Still, as I have said, two hours before sunrise all further sleep became impossible by reason of the grinding of corn, the splitting of wood with a hatchet, the various goings to and fro of the household, and the stream of visitors who were sure to arrive at that hour. These Turcoman aladjaks are, ordinarily, perfectly weather-proof, and, on the whole, fairly comfortable to live in, but that of my host was a rather patched and mended affair, and the light of day could be seen through more than one hole in the felt covering the exterior of its domed roof. One night, as we lay asleep, a tremendous downpour of rain set in, and after the first half-hour the water dripped into the hissing fire, and pattered around us on the quilts. Dourdi was equal to the occasion. It was clearly not the first time he had been confronted with the situation. He rose quickly, took a long iron-shod pole, which I presumed to be some kind of a boat-hook, and fixed one end of it in the side of the aladjak some five feet from the ground. The other end was supported by a loop of camel-hair rope, which descended from the centre of the roof to within the same distance from the ground. Hastily unfolding a carpet of large dimensions, he placed it over this horizontally rigged pole, the ends resting on the ground, and forming a kind of tent which contained all the sleepers. Often during my stay at Gumush Tepe, I have passed the night in this 2l8 / THE TEN K IS. bouse within a bouse. The loop of camel-hair rope is ordinarily intended as a support to one end of a cane, basket-like hammock, the other end of which is hung to the opposite side of the wall, the hammock serving as a cradle for young children. The winter at Gumush Tepe is generally mild enough, and even during the severest portions of the year — towards the end of February — the snow rarely lies upon the ground for any length of time, except when drifted into old irriga- tion trenches, or where sheltered from the sun. To make up for this, however, about twice a month we had sudden and violent storms from the westward, of the approach of which we had generally only a quarter of an hour’s warning, and at night none at all. This sudden storm is called the tenkis. The first time I witnessed one I was excessively puzzled to understand the -movements of the inhabitants immediately before the storm struck the village. It was about two o’clock in the afternoon ; the sun was shining brightly, and the sky was without a cloud. All at once I observed persons pointing hurriedly towards the distant Caspian horizon, where a thin, white, jagged line of flying mist was perceptible, which rose higher and higher at each moment, approaching us with rapid pace. In the village itself the wind was blowing from an opposite direction, and the mist clouds along the Elburz range were moving towards the west, while the advancing scud was still so very indistinct as to he unobservable by the unaccustomed eye. I saw men and women in frantic haste, flinging ropes over the tops of the kibitkas, and lashing the opposite extremities to stout wooden pegs firmly embedded in the ground close to the wall of the dwelling. In the meantime, within my residence, old Dourdi, muttering prayers in most anxious tones, was propping his boat-hook and several other poles of equal size against the spring of the dome, and planting the THE TENTHS. 219 lower one firmly in the ground. I could make neither head nor tail of all these preparations, and was still more con- founded and amazed by seeing all the matrons and maidens of the community who were not engaged in securing the permanency of their habitations, rushing to the bank of the river, some carrying a pitcher in each hand, others with enormous single ones strapped upon their backs. These, with feverish haste, they filled with water, and, hurrying with them to their houses, again issued forth, with other vessels, for fresh supplies. My first idea was that these were defensive preparations against some expected raid on the part of the Tekkes ; that the poles planted against the walls within were to resist some battering operations of the assailants ; and that the water so eagerly sought for must be intended to extinguish a coming conflagration. Every one, however, was too busily engaged to give me any further answer to my demands as to what it all meant, than to exclaim, ‘ The tenkis ! the tenkis ! ’ By this time the jagged white mist had risen high above the horizon, and was rapidly veiling the western sky. Flocks of sea-gulls and other aquatic birds flew inland, screaming and shrieking loudly. Ere long I saw that the clouds along the mountain ceased their westward movement, staggered, reeled, and ultimately partook of the movement of the advancing scud. Great sand-clouds came whirling towards us from the beach, and in another instant the storm burst upon us, accom- panied by a tremendous downpour of rain. The kibitka into which I rushed for shelter quivered and shook under its influence, and I thought that at each moment it would go over bodily. The westerly edge was lifted some inches from the ground with each fresh gust, and the eagerness with which ropes were hauled taut, and storm-props made fast by the inmates hanging with all their weight from their upper portions, reminded one of a scene on board a vessel at sea 220 RIVER WATER FORCED BACK. during a violent tempest. I was gazing through a crevice in the felt walls out over the plain in an eastward direction, where some camels, laden with grass and hay, were hurry- ing forward to gain shelter before being overtaken in the open. I could see their loads seized upon by the storm gusts, and in a moment torn from the backs of the animals, and sent whirling far and wide, and to a height of a hundred feet. The camels turned tail to the wind and crouched down, stretching their long necks upon the earth, so as to remove themselves as much as possible from the influence of the hurricane and whirlwind, their conductors imitating them. This storm continued for over an hour, during which time the luggers moored in the river were quite deserted by their crews, lest the craft might be torn from their anchorage and dashed against each other, as occasion- ally happens. Of course when the tempest came on I saw the object of all the lashing down and propping up of the kibitkas, but it was only when it had passed, and the inhabitants were at leisure to speak to me, that I could make out the meaning of the hurried rush to the river for water. It appears that when the tenkis blows strongly, the sea-water is forced up the channel of the Giurgen, sometimes to a distance of a mile above the village, the natural flow of the stream being so impeded that when it is tolerably full, and its current is rapid, it overflows its banks. This forcing back of the sea- water into the river’s channel renders the water of the river unfit for human consumption, often for hours together, and it is with a view of securing a supply for household use that a rush is made to the banks as soon as the flying jagged mist appears upon the horizon. DOGS. 221 CHAPTER XIII. LIFE IN THE KIBITKAS . Savage dogs — Vamb6ry’s house — Turcoman -want of ideas about time — Smoke — Sore eyes — Conversation — Patients — Visiting formalities— Turcoman hospitality — Karakchi thieves — Physical types of Yamuds — A Turcoman belle — Nursing children — Tekke bugbears — Plurality of wives — A domestic quarrel and its consequences. Life in a Turcoman village is but a dreary affair when the first impressions of novelty have worn off. As a rule, one does not, after having taken his first dozen strolls, care to walk about to be stared at by the inhabitants and harassed by the ferocious dogs, which rush in scores at a stranger clad in European attire. I know of nothing more annoying than these dogs. They are exceedingly useful as guardians of the place, for no one can come within a mile of them without his presence being made known by their noisy barking, and they are most efficient in preventing thieves from carrying off the horses, which are never under cover, but stand tethered by the fetlock close by their owners’ kibitkas. I usually confined myself to my dwelling, making notes, or conversing with the too numerous visitors who invaded Dourdi’s residence. This was the same in which Vambery had lived, for, notwithstanding that he succeeded in passing through unrecognised as a European, the inhabitants afterwards learned his true character, doubtless from the Russians of the naval station at Ashurade, close by. I 222 VA MB FRY’S HOST— SMOKE. heard of the famous Hungarian from a person named Kan Jan Kelte, the son of Kotsak, his former host. He de- scribed the traveller as being like Timour Lenk, the great Central Asian conqueror, i.e., somewhat lame. Of course this knowledge of Yambery was not arrived at until some time after his departure from among the Yamuds, as other- wise it might have fared badly with him, and he certainly would not at that time have been allowed to pass on. The most singular fact in connexion with this matter was that when I asked for the date of Yambery’ s arrival at Gumush Tepe my informant could give me only a very vague reply. This is characteristic of the Turcomans. They seem to have no idea of time beyond a period of twelve months, and cannot tell whether an occurrence took place eight, ten, or twenty years ago, generally referring the questioner to some striking event, and explaining that the matter to which the query relates happened before or after it One of the most disagreeable features of a Turcoman hut is the ever-present smoke, which is produced by the com- bined combustion of green wood, cuttings from fir planking, and camel’s dung. The fire is scarcely ever allowed to go out, and the Turcomans will assure the guest, by way of reconciling him to the nuisance, that it is admirable as a means for keeping flies out of the kibitka. This is doubt- less true, but it appears to me that a very nice judgment would be required to discriminate as to the lesser of the two evils. In winter, especially, one becomes as black with soot in twenty-four hours as if he had been living in a chimney, and his only chance of avoiding suffocation is to lie down with his face as near to the ground as possible. To stand up would be to risk asphyxiation in the creosote- fraught atmosphere. The smoke occupies the upper two- thirds of the apartment, and condenses about the top of the domed roof, converting the long, pendent cobwebs into so SORE EYES.— CONVERSATION. 223 many sooty stalactites, which, when they become too ponderous for their own suspending strength, descend silently into one’s food, or settle in heavy black stripes across his face as he lies asleep. At the end of a few days one is as thoroughly smoke-dried as the most conscientious curer could desire his hams to be. The creosote resulting from the burning of the fresh pinewood produces inflamma- tion of the eyes, and, after some months’ residence in these maritime kibitkas, one is not surprised that keratitis and bleared eyes should be so universally met with among the Turcomans. The utter absence of privacy was also a most aggravat- ing element of my sojourn in Gumush Tepe. Ordinarily, I shared my dwelling with Dourdi, his wife, child, niece, and a calf ; but in addition to these there was an intolerable continuation of levees to he held, at each of which at least fifteen or twenty visitors were present. It was impossible to do anything in the shape of taking notes, or, indeed, to write at all. It is the greatest mistake in the world to suppose that Orientals are taciturn — those, at least, who are to be met with in these regions. There was incessant babbling and chattering. The conversation was of a very limited kind, being mainly confined to geographical subjects, of which the talkers had but very crude notions. At first I used to try most conscientiously to explain the whereabouts of certain countries, but, finding my auditors altogether unable to comprehend the distances which I mentioned, I afterwards confined myself to indicating the points of the compass at which the various countries lay, dividing my measurements into ‘ very far,’ and * very far indeed,’ with which explanations they were completely satisfied. I was constantly overwhelmed by the most ridiculous questions, such as, 4 How much moajib (salary) did the Ingleez Padishah receive annually ? ’ Being informed that 224 INQ UISITIVENESS.— PERSECUTION. the English Padishah was a lady, they could with difficulty be persuaded that I was not playing upon their credulity ; and the pointing out of England and Hindostan as lying at opposite points of the compass seemed to confirm them in this idea. As a rule, these people have not the slightest conception of the existence of Britain, Hindostan being supposed by them to be the real England. There was a general anxiety to know my age, whether I had a father or mother, how many brothers I had, and their respective ages. I was never asked if I had sisters, it being contrary to Eastern etiquette to speak of ladies, or even to ask if one is married. The information, after being given to those who sat nearest to me, was conveyed to the next tier of anxious listeners, who in turn communicated it to the outer circle. All this ground had to be gone over afresh for the benefit of each set of new comers, as if the subject had been of absorbing and general interest. The whole proceeding was not only exceedingly ludicrous, but worrying in the extreme. Some sat in solemn silence, their eyes fixed upon my face, but the majority were aggressively inquisitive, and I often found myself seriously calculating how long I was prepared to bear this sort of torture without becoming demented. After some weeks, however, I began to get case-hardened, and I resolved that I would go on with my writing, no matter what might he the nature of the sur- rounding circumstances. Accordingly, I used to sit down doggedly upon my carpet, paying no attention whatever to the batches of new comers, and as I sat, taciturnly writing by the smoky light of the astatki lamp, the onlookers were filled with amazement at my obduracy and unwilling- ness to speak to them. ‘ Why,’ said one of my visitors, one evening, when after half an hour’s questioning he had only succeeded in extracting surly monosyllables from me, ‘ I never saw such a silent person as you are. If I had only PA TIE NTS.— VISITING CEREMONIES. 225 travelled half the distance that you have I should never have done talking about my adventures.’ This man’s name was Agha Jik, a Goklan Turcoman, who had thought proper to change his tribe, owing to the want of security for life and property obtaining among his own clansmen. He was a very lively old fellow, and, considering the extreme pliability of his tongue, I have no doubt that he would have kept his word under the circumstances to which he alluded. Another kind of suffering which I had to endure was entailed by the continual examining into and prescribing for the various maladies which seemed to have alighted upon my interviewers expressly for my persecution. Fever, hepatic disease, sore eyes, and a hundred other complaints passed in review before me, for everyone coming from ^Frangistan is here supposed to be a physician. There was a constant drawing upon my small stock of medicines, and, when I declared that I had not a certain remedy, my patient would exclaim, in amazement, ‘ What ! you have been in Stamboul and Frangistan, and you have not any medicine ! ’ According to ordinary Turcoman ceremonial, a visitor draws aside the carpet which hangs curtain-wise before the door, and utters the sacramental Selam aleik. He always knows by the tone of the reply whether it is convenient that he should enter or not, and if his salutation be not returned at all, he takes it for granted that there is a grievance against him. An instance of this occurred at the very kibitka in which I was staying. A Turcoman of very bad character and dissolute habits had been going round the village spreading rumours that my host was swindling and plundering me in the most reprehensible manner, and, this coming to old Dourdi’s ears, the latter at once asked me whether I believed that such had been VOL. 1. Q 226 VISITING CEREMONIES. his treatment of me. I of course replied in the negative. Shortly afterwards, the propagator of the defamatory report, not dreaming that his lying statements had reached my host’s ears, presented himself at the open door, and uttered the customary Selam aleik. Old Dourdi, who was looking with half- closed eyes in the direction of the entrance, steadily ignored the presence of the intruder, I myself following his example. As a consequence, after a few minutes’ pause, the would-be visitor, probably guessing that his calumnies had been duly reported to the subject of them, walked sheepishly away, and never again troubled us by his presence. It is, above all, imperative upon the caller never to enter if he sees that the inmates are at meals ; for this would entail upon the people of the house the necessity of asking him to partake of their food, and every Turcoman knows that his countrymen are not always in a position to extend such hospitality. When the entree of the house is permitted, the visitor approaches with the utmost ceremony, and for fully three or four minutes there is a muttered exchange of formalities. ‘ Amanme ? ’ says the superior, as the senior is always considered, except in the case of a chief. ‘ Amanlugme ,’ replies the other. * Amansalugme, Kiffenkokme,’ ‘ Sorache,’ ‘ Elhamd-Ellilali^ and many another ceremonious phrase, follow upon each other. Should as many as twenty persons be present when a visitor comes in, the ceremonial must be gone through separately with each, in the order of his rank or seniority. In this respect the Yamuds are precisely like the Osmanli Turks, the salaaming movement of the hand and valedictory phrases of the latter only being omitted. Among the Turcomans the matter winds up with the ‘ Khosh Geldi ’ (You are welcome). Notwithstanding all this formality upon entering, there is none whatever when one of the company departs. He rises abruptly, and leaves POLITENESS. 227 the room as though something had been said which had direly offended him. No one else takes the slightest notice of his withdrawal, nor does he himself, even by a nod, salute the company. As in all Eastern society, it is of course necessary to remove one’s slippers on entering, or at least when stepping upon the carpeted portion of the kibitka , and you must also remain covered, as a mark of respect. To uncover the head before a respectable Oriental gathering would be almost as inexcusable as to remove one’s nether garments in a fashionable London saloon. I have often perspired under the heat of my sheepskin hat, and would have given half my worldly goods to be able to doff that article of clothing, but was compelled to bear with the inconvenience for fear of being regarded as a grossly discourteous person. Sometimes, if only yourself and your host be present, and he should feel very hot him- self, he may possibly extend his politeness so far as to say ‘ You may take off your hat if you like ; ’ but then it is always understood that you keep on the small skull-cap, which no true Oriental ever removes, whether by day or by night. Should a stranger arrive, there is a sudden donning of head-dresses, as if the new-comer were about to make some murderous attack upon the crania of the inmates, and they needed protection against his violence. The hospitality of the desert has been a good deal im- paired, in the case of the Yamuds along the Persian border, owing to their contact with their more than usually mer- cenary Persian neighbours, and with the ready-monied, well-paying Russian authorities. Still, the semblance of it exists. A Turcoman in whose house you have been staying for a few days will accept nothing for the board and lodging which he has supplied to you, though he will unhesitatingly take payment for the oats and fodder consumed by your horse. You may ask him, in the most explicit terms, how 228 HOSPITALITY. many chanaks of oats or barley have been supplied, and how many bundles of hay, and he will at once inform you. To inquire how much you owe him for the boiled fowls and pilaff which you have eaten, however, would be to seriously offend him. But when you are going away he expects a handsome peshkesh, and will think you a shabby individual indeed, if you have an air of being at all above the ordinary, if he does not in this guise receive from you two or three times the value of what you have been provided with. I must say, however, that in the case of their own country- men who are known not to he too well off, and especially in the case of wandering dervishes, their liberality is un- bounded, and they do not entertain the slightest expectation of remuneration, nor would they accept any. The dervish is supposed to be a man of God, though as a rule he is the reverse — at least the Persian one is ; and as regards the Turcoman who is on his travels, the host expects that, should it come to his turn to pay a visit to the guest who is at his house, he will meet with a like return of hospitality. I was very much struck by the resemblance between the manners and phrases of these people and those of the Spaniards. They will tell you that the house and all that it contains are yours ; and if you speak in terms of praise of any article belonging to your host, he feels bound to tell you that it is altogether at your disposal, and in several cases I have been forced to accept at the hands of chiefs that which I happened to commend. But, while treating you in this princely fashion — for a Turcoman considers that a man of rank must never withhold what his guest fancies — the donor will compensate himself for his own generosity by praising in return something which is in your own possession, and of course there is nothing for it but to present the gift with a good grace, no matter how much you may stand in need of the particular article. . A THIEF. 229 This rule does not apply to arms and horses, for a stranger on the plains cannot part with what are to him absolute necessities. The Yamuds, that is, those of any social standing, are very particular in guarding against the theft of anything belonging to a recipient of their hospitality, and are ready to resent any such outrage in the swiftest and severest manner. The following is an instance of this. The horses, as I have said, are tethered in the open air, close to the kibitkas of their owners. They are protected against the heat of the sun by day, and the severity of the cold at night, by being swathed in an enormous sheet of felt, nearly an inch thick, which covers them from ears to tail, and meets underneath the belly. This is tied round two or three times with a broad girth, and will enable the animal to withstand any kind of weather. The horses themselves prefer this mode of being kept warm, and I found it im- possible to induce my Turcoman steeds to enter a stable. They thus stood close to my residence, and my own personal charger was covered with a very expensive felt rug. Close to the Atterek Delta is a village inhabited by what are known to their more respectable brethren as a tribe of Karakchi. These are robbers par excellence. They are always mistrusted by the other Turcomans, whose own morality is not of too strict an order. One day a pair of these gentlemen honoured Gumush Tepe with a visit. They did not leave until rather late in the evening, and on the following morning my horse-rug had disappeared. I complained to old Dourdi, who almost wept with indignation on hearing that his guest had thus been despoiled of his property, and immediately rushed to the house of the chief to inform him of this breach of decorum. Scarce five minutes had elapsed when the avengers were on foot ; at their head was Agha Jik, the sprightly old Goklan. No 230 COMPULSORY RESTITUTION. time was lost in any preliminary inquiry, for no such in- quiry was necessary. Two Karakchi Turcomans had been in our camp on the previous evening ; no one else could he guilty of such a violation of the laws of hospitality, and the conclusion was at once drawn that they must be the de- linquents ; and as one of them happened to bear a worse character than the other, he was the individual selected as the actual offender. The body of horsemen proceeded swiftly to the Karakchi village, and entered the house of the supposed thief. Placing their knives at his breast, they summarily demanded the restoration of the stolen property. When a Turcoman commits a theft, he feels bound, for some reason which it is difficult to understand, to die rather than give back what he has purloined, just as he will cut the throat of a captive rather than part with him without a ransom. The Karakchi protested, but the more he did so the fiercer and more imperative became the demand, and he at length replied that although he could not restore what he had not taken, he could supply a cloth of equal value. This logic seemed perfectly satis- factory to the others. A rug very nearly as good as that which had been abstracted was produced, and brought away in triumph. It was not quite so valuable as the one I had lost, but when asked by my redressors whether I felt satis- fied with it, I of course answered that I was, for I did not wish to give them unnecessary trouble, fearing that further prosecution of my claim might entail bloodshed. I knew that if I persisted, the least they would have felt bound to do would have been to collect the amount of the difference in value from among the villagers. I have had similar experiences with almost all the Turcomans with whom I have come in contact, however wild they were, and it is only of the children and lads that I have to complain, for these latter are frightful thieves and liars. These Karakchi TURCOMAN PHYSIOGNOMIES. 231 Turcomans are held in universal detestation by the other tribes around them, and the wonder is that they have not been exterminated. My host told me that they creep into the villages at night, and, cutting through the exterior matting and felt of the kibitka walls with their long keen knives, introduce their arms and steal whatever they have previously noted while entering during the day. Hence he warned me not to hang my sword, revolver, or any other article of value, against the wall, but to place them beside me as I slept. The village dogs, great nuisances as they are, are well worth keeping, for the sake of protection against these audacious thieves. The usual Turcoman physical type, both male and female, is rough, rude, and vigorous, and quite in contrast with that of the frontier Persian, which is sleek, cat-like, feeble, and mean. The worst part of the Turcoman is his head, which is decidedly conical, the point being thrown somewhat to the rear. A phrenologist would say that firm- ness was very pronounced, conscientiousness wanting, and benevolence small. The features are not of that Tartar cast that one would be apt to suppose in denizens of East Caspian districts, and though here and there may be seen a suspicion of peeping eye, a tendency towards flattening of the point of the nose, and occasionally high cheek bones, on the whole the faces are more European than otherwise. In fact, I have seen some physiognomies at Gumush Tepe which, if accompanied by an orthodox European dress, would pass muster anywhere as belonging to natives of the West. It is among the women that the absence of Euro- pean features is most conspicuous. There are many of them who could fairly be reckoned pretty, though it is quite a different order of beauty from that to which we are accus- tomed. I recollect, during a solitary ride along the banks of the Giurgen river, coming upon a small ova , or collection 2 3 2 A TURCOMAN BELLE. of Turcoman huts. Being very tired, I dismounted at the door of one of them, and attaching my horse’s bridle to the door-post, entered. The hut had but two occupants, one an elderly woman, the other a girl of apparently about eighteen years. The latter, as I afterwards learned, was the daughter of the local chief, and was on a visit. She was in full gala costume, and wore over her crimson silk shirt a coat of green cloth, fitting very closely at the waist, and falling half-way to the ankle, the skirt being cut into a series of plaitings like those of a Highland soldier’s tunic. The sleeves fitted closely as far as the elbows, but below that point they were exceedingly large, and open behind. The edges of the opening, as well as the cuff, were ornamented by a double line of small spherical silver buttons, while the front of the coat, and also the breast of the shirt, were decorated with the usual rows of hanging silver coins. Around her neck was a large silver collar, set with cornelians and small gold panels, and supporting by a series of chains a long cylindrical case containing talismanic writings. The huge band-box head-dress, which she had laid aside, was of even more than the ordinary preposterous dimensions. Its front was hung over with festoons of small gold coins, interspersed with star-like silver ornaments, and, springing from the centre of the top, and falling backwards, was a green silk coat with sleeves, the seams doubled with crimson, and the entire back covered with stamped silver ornaments. This young lady, who, if she did not wear ‘ her heart upon her sleeve,’ apparently bore her purse upon her head, was one of the prettiest of her race that I had yet seen. Her complexion was remarkably clear, and had in it more of colour than is generally to be met with in the sun-tanned physiognomies of her companions. Her dark eyebrows were arched ; her delicately formed nose was of slightly aquiline contour ; her WOMEN. 233 eyes were large, dark, and intelligent ; her mouth as near per- fection as possible ; her chin small, and remarkably promi- nent. Long brown hair, in colour approaching to blackness, fell in two large plaited tresses between her shoulders, each tress bearing silver pieces extending over a space of at least two feet, the coins growing larger towards the bottom, where figured either Eussian rouble pieces or Persian five- kran ones. Neither of the ladies was in the least abashed by my entry. The elder motioned me to a seat, and after the usual salutations we entered into conversation. The younger one showed especial curiosity as to who I was, and why I was roving about alone upon the plains. She asked me about the dress of ladies in my country ; then how I liked her costume, and next how I liked herself. It is not usual to meet with such an utter absence of em- barrassment or attempt at veiling, even among Turcoman women, so that when she conducted herself in this unre- strained manner before me, a stranger, I could only suppose that her demeanour in regard to those with whom she was better acquainted must have been exceedingly confiding and sans gene. I am sorry to say that this young lady is a very uncommon example of the sex of her race. It is among the men that the handsome individuals must be sought for, especially when there has been an admixture of Persian blood. The scanty beard of the pure Turcoman is then replaced by one of much more luxurious proportions, and of a darker tint ; the nose assumes a more or less aquiline form, and the eye loses the cold grey expression so charac- teristic of the pure-blooded dweller on the Steppes. Whether or not it be owing to the peculiarity of the race, or to the laborious occupations to which they are subjected almost from infancy — grinding corn, carrying water, cooking, and in their leisure hours carpet making and spinning — at a comparatively early age they lose whatever comeliness they 234 WOMEN. may have possessed, and on approaching anything like an advanced age degenerate into withered and witch-like beldames. The contrary is the case with the male sex, probably for contrary reasons, for a Turcoman of any pretensions whatever never occupies himself with menial labour, and, indeed, seldom exerts himself in any way, except in a foray against his neighbours’ cattle, or in a hostile expedition into Persia. The woman, in the midst of her family circle, retains her place beside the fire, even though a number of strange men should enter ; but she is not supposed to go to another house where there is such an assembly of male persons, unless it he for the express purpose of talking to the mistress of that house, in which case she enters and retires entirely unnoticed by the people present, save by the person to whom she came to speak. Beside her own hearth, on the contrary, she is saluted, and returns the salute. When a Turcoman happens to possess more than one wife, the latest and favourite one is always the best dressed, and is exempted as much as possible from domestic labour, her predecessor or predecessors performing the necessary household duties. These latter, however, retain a certain seniority, and are treated with more respect by strangers. In fact, if a wife be very recently married, she is understood not to make herself too prominent in the kibitka in which she lives. Turcoman women are usually very industrious, never seeming tired of work. This is probably because labour is the only means at their disposal for breaking the monotony of their otherwise dull lives. I have seen a woman, when unable to sleep, rise at two o’clock in the morning, light the smoky astatki lamp, and proceed to beguile the weary hours by grinding corn in a heavy horizontal stone hand- mill, for the morning meal. It is quite the exception for a man to fetch water from the river. This is generally done NURSING. 235 by the younger female members of the family, the daughters, if there be any, and if not, by the younger wife or wives, who on such occasions generally carry with them the suckling children or those who cannot safely be left by themselves. These are borne astride upon one hip, the body of the mother being thrown over to the opposite side, one arm passing round the child’s w r aist, while the other supports the heavy water pitcher, both sides being thus mutually balanced. As on board ship when space is scarce, the oblong cane basket which serves as a cradle for young children is supported at one end by the double camel-hair rope which descends from the centre of the dome, the other being attached to the top of the lattice work forming the inside of the wall. A sufficiently erudite collector of nursery rhymes would no doubt be highly delighted with some of the ditties crooned by Turcoman women as they swing their babies to and fro in this hammock-like machine. The utterances to which they give vent when persuading their young offspring to take food are very strange, and often, when lying flat upon my carpet, busily engaged in writing, I have lifted up my head in amazement in order to discover the object of the strange intonations which reached my ear. Once the mother was uttering hoarse, gurgling sounds, like those of an uneasy wild animal, all the while contorting her features into a variety of simian grimaces not unworthy of an hilarious baboon, and all simply with a view of inducing the child upon her lap to partake of some fried fish. It is no bad exemplification of the estimation in which the Tekke Turco- mans of the interior were held by these Yamuds, that mothers menaced unruly children with the threat that if they did not behave themselves the Tekkes would be sent for directly. As a rule, plurality of wives, when it occurs, does not 236 A DOMESTIC SQUABBLE . seem to disturb the peace of a Turcoman home, even though the master of the aladjak does not often follow out the prescription of the Koran by providing a separate habita- tion for each of his spouses. Still, ‘ breezes will ruffle the flowers sometimes,’ and I once had a notable proof of this. A little after sunset one evening, as I was sitting at the door of my kibitka, looking out across the waters of the Giurgen, I perceived a lurid blaze, which soon spread into a sheet of rolling fire reaching far away to the south and west. The suddenness of the conflagration startled me, and I thought it might be the result of one of those sudden incursions which might be expected at any moment in these regions. Soon, however, my old host made his appearance, stifling his laughter at something which he evidently con- sidered a very good joke. On asking him what all the fire was about, and at what he was so amused, he informed me that in the house of a friend of his, who had lately married his second wife, disputes had arisen between the partakers of his affections. From words they had come to blows, and at length the combatants, finding no better weapons near, seized lighted brands from the hearth, and pelted them recklessly at each other. The house contained a quantity of hemp and other inflammable material, and was quickly in a blaze. It stood close to the margin of a meadow, in which, owing to the abundance of water, the grass had grown to a great height. Having been allowed to stand uncut, it had been dried by the sun of the preceding autumn, and, the flames spreading to it, the conflagration ensued. A TRANS-CASPIAN COLLEGE. 237 CHAPTER XIV. SKETCHES OF GUMUSH TEPE. College at Gumush Tepe — Professor of theology — Late school hours — Sunni and Shiia — Specimen of sectarian hatred — The white fowl mystery — Fever — Hurried burials — Mourning rites — Returning hadjis — Distinctive marks — Trade and commerce — Tanning sheepskins — Pomegranate bark — - Kusgun and yaipundja — Krans and tomans — Disputes about money — Turcoman measures — Recreations — The Turcomans and ‘ Punch ’ — Agha Jik’s ideas — After nightfall. My kibitka was within thirty feet of the river’s edge. In the intervening space, standing on a kind of earthern pier, and protected by boards against the action of the current, stood another kibitka , of unusually large dimensions. This was the mosque attended by the more select portion of the community, and it was the only instance I had seen of a covered building used for religious purposes by the Turco- mans. In the intervals between the hours of prayer this edifice was utilised as a medresse, or college, in which can- didates for the priesthood were instructed in reading, writing, and the precepts of the Koran, by an abound, or professor, who passed as the possessor of great erudition. He was a square, solidly built man of about fifty years of age, with a suspiciously Tartar-looking nose, a slight chin tuft, and still slighter moustache. He habitually wore spectacles, which imparted to his countenance, for a resi- dent of Gumush Tepe, a wonderfully sagacious and learned look. He was an Oozbeg, from Bokhara, and had studied theology at the college of Samarcand. Besides his profes- 258 A PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY. sorial functions, he also exercised those of timber and general merchant to the community, for though he was a moullah, or priest, the injunctions of the Koran did not forbid his engaging in lay occupations. He was very active, and seemed to sleep but little. His class of some fifteen students, all young men of about seventeen or eighteen years of age, generally assembled about midnight, and from that time until three in the morning there was an incessant babble of tongues within this Central Asian seminary. All the pupils were engaged simultaneously in reading from the Koran at the highest pitch of their voices, which were not very feeble ones. Turcomans, from living constantly in the open air, and conversing on horseback, have naturally vigorous voices, and habitually speak in very loud tones. Indeed, I have often seen two of them, seated at the same fire, within a house, adopt the same stentorian tone in conversation as if they were addressing each other from opposite sides of the river Giurgen. By this it may he imagined that the uproar within the medresse was no ordinary one, and that, being only a few feet removed from my dwelling-place, it was not easy to go to sleep under such circumstances. Towards three o’clock, by which time they seemed to become rather fatigued, the Professor took up the chorus, and commenced to expound the Koran in a pompous and pretentious tone, and daylight would he well advanced before he thought fit to desist. During the remainder of the day he attended to his secular affairs, or kept an eye upon his college, to see that no un- authorised intrusions took place within its holy precincts ; and I have more than once seen him, spectacles on nose and stick in hand, furiously chasing a multitude of hens and geese out of this Trans-Caspian temple of theology. Morning and evening the old gentleman who acted as muezzim took his stand before the door, and his melancholy, SECTARIAN BITTERNESS. 239 musical, long-drawn cry might be heard floating across the silent plain, calling the faithful to their devotions, a summons which, I regret to say, was seldom answered save by a dozen or fifteen of the older and more respectable inhabitants. These Turcomans are all rigid Sunnites, and cherish the due orthodox detestation of the cursed Shiia sect, of which their neighbours the Persians are members. They do not, in fact, regard the latter as Mussulmans at all, and have a much greater regard for the Jews and Christians. My old host Dourdi was a genuine specimen of the Sunnite. He said his prayers with the greatest regularity, always previously washing his face, hands, and feet, with rigid attention to the rites of his sect — if, indeed, he would not have considered it blasphemy to describe Sunnism as a sect — taking care that the water ran in a proper manner over the points of his elbows, and not after the damnable fashion of the Shiites. He once accompanied me on a shooting ex- pedition along the coast, as far as the old Gumush Tepe mound. After a while we seated ourselves upon its summit, and I produced a cold fowl, some bread, and a bottle of arrack, whereon to breakfast. The old man was nothing loth, and joined heartily in my repast, taking frequent pulls at the arrack bottle, notwithstanding the fact that this in- dulgence was in direct opposition to the tenets in regard to which he was in other respects so conscientious. All at once he ceased masticating — his mouth cram-full of fowl — as if some dire thought had struck him. * Where,’ said he, ‘ did you procure this ? ’ I guessed at his meaning, and replied that he need have no fear on the score of the fowl, that it had been duly prepared by a Mussulman, and that I had bought them in the bazaar at Asterabad the day before. At this he began with fury to spit out every morsel that his mouth contained, uttering ejaculations of pious horror, 240 AN ODD SUPERSTITION and now and again applying liis lips to the arrack bottle with a view of still further purifying himself. I demanded what he meant by treating food, prepared by a brother Mussulman, in that manner, and assured him that I had no hand in the preparation. ‘ Mussulman ! ’ he exclaimed. ‘ Do you call those cursed dogs of Asterabad, Mussulmans ? • They are Kaffirs (unbelievers). May their fathers’ graves ‘ be eternally defiled ! Had it been yourself who had killed ‘ and prepared this fowl, I would have no objection to it ; but ‘ unbelieving infidels of Shiites ! I w T ould rather perish with ‘ hunger than taste a morsel which one of them had 4 touched ! ’ It seemed odd enough to hear this old fellow talking thus savagely about his fellow Mussulmans, who differed from him very little but in name ; and all the while grasping by the neck the uncorked bottle of spirits, which his profound appreciation of the precepts of the Koran ought to have taught him to eschew. A jpropos of fowls, a strange idea had got abroad about this time, the origin of which I found it very difficult to trace. Its substance was that any one having live white-feathered fowls of any description in his possession after the first of the coming Bairam would infallibly lose his life— that a snake would issue from the throat of each, and inflict a fatal bite upon its owner. When or how this idea origi- nated I have over and over again tried to discover, but in vain ; so great, however, was the hold which it took upon the popular imagination, both in Asterabad and on the outlying plains, that long before the day named, white- feathered birds of every description had disappeared, and ducks, geese, and other poultry of the fatal plumage could at the time be purchased for the most trifling sums. I after- wards heard it uncharitably whispered at Teheran that the notion was set on foot by Armenian contractors, who were charged with the furnishing of a new regulation plume for MALADIES.— INTERMENT. 241 certain troops in the Shah’s service, and which it was necessary should be composed of white feathers, and that these gentlemen adopted this method of securing a plentiful and cheap supply. I will not, however, vouch for the truth of this explanation. Though my residence at Gumush Tepe was principally during the commencement oi the year, deaths by fever were painfully frequent, the low, swampy country being pregnant with ague. The unfortunate Turcomans took no remedial measures, quinine being unknown to them save by repute. They had heard of a wonderful medicine which could cure them, gina-gina, as they called it, and when it became known that I had this much-prized remedy in my posses- sion my kibitka was besieged night and day with applicants. This intermittent fever and ague, when neglected, reduces the sufferer to a miserable condition ; he becomes the colour of a corpse, incessant vomitings set in, and in two or three years he dies, a mere skeleton. Among Mahometans the breath has scarcely left the body before the remains are hurried to the grave. It was not unusual, in crossing the wide waste spaces around the aoull, to meet a party of ten or twelve persons going at a run towards the old mound beside the sea-shore — the ordinary burying-place, six bear- ing upon their shoulders a corpse, wrapped in a sheet, the others relieving them in turn. According to their ideas, the soul is in suffering so long as the body remains over ground after death. No doubt this precept is inculcated by way of enforcing, in hot countries, the speedy burial of the deceased ; and each person who assists in thus carrying the dead body to its last resting-place is supposed to receive some special blessing or indulgence. One is frequently awakened in the night by a shrill burst of wailing from a neighbouring kibitka, the cries of the women intimating that a member of the family has died. This lasts for a few vol. 1. R 242 MOURNING. minutes, and then the tramp of the bearers is heard. The real funeral ceremonies commence subsequently, and are carried to an unreasonable length. The male relatives gather from far and near, and a large carpet is spread before the door for their accommodation, the women of the family remaining within the hut. As each party of new- comers arrives within fifty yards of the place, each places the wrist of his right arm across his eyes, and bursts into a series of the most hideous howls, supposed to he expressive of deep grief, though to me they would convey the impression of being produced by violent rage on the part of the utterer. Step by step the relatives draw near, howling all the time, and pausing at every three or four steps. Then they circle slowly round the dwelling, uttering more terrible cries than before. Having made the circuit of the house three times, they kneel upon the carpet, where the others are already seated, and, bowing their faces to the ground, and resting upon their arms, continue their demonstrations of sorrow, which gradually become less and less vehement until they cease entirely. Then comes a pause, after which each one sits up and enters into conversation with the company ; water-pipes are brought, and general topics are discussed. At the moment when the last party of men cease their uproar, the women inside the hut commence replying, giving vent to a kind of mournful jabbering accompanied by rhythmical clapping of the hands, and now and again breaking into a kind of recitative chant, probably laudatory of the merits of the deceased, though I was never able to understand the burden of the muffled notes which issued from behind the felt walls. This uncouth mourning continues during the first three or four days, and the family of the deceased, if rich enough, order a sheep to be killed for consumption by those who attend the obsequies, some of the richer relatives performing a like act of hospitality. MOURNING. 243 Though the more immediate and formal rites terminate in a few days, three or four months elapse before the cere- monies are altogether concluded, for during this period all those friends from a distance who are unable to attend during the first days make their appearance from time to time, and the whole thing is repeated. Some months pre- viously to my arrival, a death had occurred in Dourdi’s kibitka, and once, about midnight, when busily engaged in writing out my notes, I was terribly startled by a diabolical yelling within two feet of me, just outside the felt wall. I hastily awakened my host, and inquired the reason of the disturbance, when he informed me of the demise which had taken place. Though when the slightest strange noise occurs within the village during the night the dogs at once burst out into furious barking, so well is this death chant known to them, that they do not, on hearing it, make the usual demonstrations. On the contrary, I have known them join in the wail, in plaintive unison. When the chief of the household dies, a small mound of earth about two feet in height is erected close to the dwelling as a memorial of him, and the sites of former villages or encampments are often to be recognised by the ground being dotted with these mementoes. Of course, in the event of the demise of a chief the obsequies are on a larger scale, and proportionately lengthened, and the ‘ funeral baked meats ’ are served out liberally to all comers — who, when viands are about, are, I need not say, pretty numerous. Over the grave itself is raised a mound of four or five feet in height. The greater the rank of the deceased, the larger is the mound. Every Turcoman who can possibly afford the expense of the journey makes a pilgrimage to Mecca. To avoid passing through the country of the hated Shiites, pilgrims prefer the route through Russian territory, and up to a short time 244 PILGRIMS. ago went by way of Gumush Tepe, Baku, Poti, and Con- stantinople. Now, since the opening of the railroad between Krasnavodsk and the Akhal Tekke, this route is preferred. I have been informed that during the next two years it will be open free of charge to these or any other Turcoman travellers. At least, so I was told at Baku. I saw some hadjis returning to Gumush Tepe. They were three in number, and had been announced some hours beforehand. Many persons went out on horseback to meet them, to be the first to receive their blessing in all its newness and freshness, and by contact with them to absorb a portion of the recently acquired holiness into their own persons. As they drew near the village, crowds of old and young flocked out to meet them, saluting them cordially in the Turcoman fashion. The newly- arrived pilgrims had large white turban cloths rolled round their black sheep- skin tiaras. Anyone who has made a pilgrimage to Mecca is entitled ever afterwards to wear a white turban, and enjoys considerable reputation for sanctity. As far as I could see, to a large extent he makes this latter redound not a little to his own personal and material comfort. Everyone is anxious to hear the story of the traveller’s experiences in the foreign countries through which he has passed ; and the traveller in nowise loth to detail them again and again, to the accompaniment of unlimited pilaff, tea, and water- pipes. The commerce and manufactures of Gumush Tep6, as may readily be imagined, are neither extensive nor varied. In fact, up to the time of the arrival of the expeditionary troops at Tchikislar, the Turcomans had little notion of anything of the kind. After that event they were actively occupied in supplying the camp with firewood from the coast near Gez, with hay from their own plains and river banks, and with all the corn and rice which they could COMMERCE AND TRADE. 245 manage to extract from the Persians. Apart from this I do not know of any exports. The carpets which they make are retained for their own use; the slow rate at which they are produced, and the high price which would necessarily he asked for them, would effectually extinguish any attempt at commerce in such articles. The greater portion of their commerce is therefore in the shape of imports, for they consume large quantities of tea and sugar. These commodities do not come from Tckikislar and Baku, but direct from Asterabad. Even with the people of the latter city the transactions are on a limited scale, no con- fidence whatever existing between buyer and seller. All bargains are of a ready-money character, and ready money is very scarce among the Turcomans. Calicoes, both plain and printed, are also largely imported ; these are chiefly of Russian manufacture, as would naturally be supposed, though French prints are occasionally to be seen upon the piles of merchandise within the kibitkas of the more exten- sively dealing merchants. These imported articles are sold in retail by those Turcomans who play the role of shop- keepers, at an enormous profit, fifty per cent, at least upon the retail price at Asterabad. It is highly amusing to watch the local merchant as he serves his customers with tea and sugar. The terazi, or scales, are of the rudest description, and consist of a bar of turned wood pierced in the middle by a hole, through which passes a thong, knotted at one end. The pans are composed of half-gourds, rudely supported by leather thongs. My host, who was himself a merchant in a small way, when selling two krans ’ worth (two francs) of sugar, was accustomed to place an iron boat- bolt, his dagger, and a small adze in one scale as the exact balance of the quantum which he proposed to give in ex- change for that sum of money. I have often managed to penetrate into a Turcoman house through having to make 246 A PRETTY SHOPKEEPER. - FISH . purchases of groceries and other commodities, and have remarked that whatever slight remnant of Eastern jealousy with regard to women might exist among the other Turco- mans, these shopkeepers, owing to their continued and necessary contact with both sexes, have no trace of such feeling remaining. One day I went to a kibitka shop to buy some tea. Instead of a counter there was a long, broad board, slightly raised from the mat on which it was sup- ported, and covered with bowls and packages of tea, loaves of sugar, and rolls of tumbaki. Behind this board, extended at full length, her shoulders reclining upon a large crimson silk pillow, was the wife of the proprietor, who in his absence conducted the concern. She was dressed in the extreme of the Turcoman fashion. Her ornaments were more copious than usual, and she was, next to the young lady whom I have described as having met in the kibitka along the Giurgen, the finest Turcoman woman I have seen. She seemed rather relieved by the advent of some one to admire her costume, and herself too, I suppose, for she had apparently been wasting £ her sweetness on the desert air ’ for a length of time. The supply of fish in the Caspian, and especially in the neighbourhoods of the estuaries of rivers, is enormous, and if the Turcomans had any sort of commercial spirit they might find ample occupation in catching and drying it, were it only for the supply of their brother Turcomans inhabiting the plain to the eastward. This Caspian fish, now that a railroad has penetrated to the interior of Central Asia, will probably be a notable article of commerce in the future. The manufactures of Gumush Tepe, after those of the wooden framework for kibitkas, and the building of fishing luggers and other craft, of which one is constructed now and then, include that of sheepskin overcoats (yapundjas TANNING SHEEPSKINS. 247 or kusguns). The fresh skins are salted on the side opposite to the wool, and then packed together in bundles. When thoroughly dry they are scraped with a sharp morsel of wood, and afterwards with pumice-stone, until their inner surfaces are tolerably smooth. They are then thickly sprinkled with powdered alum, and a boiling decoction of pomegranate rind is poured over them. They are allowed to dry, and the operation is then repeated. The skin thus undergoes a kind of tanning, which gives it a bright amber tint, deepening in proportion to the number of operations to which it is subjected. It is, however, very rigid and hard, and requires to undergo a softening process before it can be sewn into garments. One extremity of the skin is attached to an iron loop situated at the top of the doorway. A small forked tree-branch, each limb of the fork a foot long, and having the inside of the angle carefully peeled and polished, is attached by one of its limbs to a stout cord, which in turn supports a kind of stirrup in which the foot is placed. The operator seizes the lower end of the suspended skin in .his left hand, and, holding the whole of the skin in a more or less horizontal position, places the inside of the fork near its upper extremity. Then, leaning with his entire weight upon the stirrup, he drags the fork along the whole length cf the interior of the skin. This is repeated again and again, until the tanned hide loses its stiffness, and becomes as pliant as a piece of chamois leather. As many as four sheepskins will go to make up one of these kusguns , or over- coats, for they are of very large dimensions, and the sleeves project for a foot beyond the extremity of the hand, the extra length of sleeve being used as a glove in cold weather. A good coat of this description costs from fifteen to twenty shillings. When the hide is that of lambs, or the wool is of a finer quality, the price rises in proportion, especially 248 LEATHER COATS.— COINAGE, when the front is stamped and embroidered, in which cases I have known five or eight pounds to he paid for a kusgun. The embossed and ornamented sheepskin coats are but little known among the Turcomans, being principally worn by the people of Derguez and by the Afghans. In dry weather these garments are worn with the tanned side turned outwards, the wool being next the body, but during rain or snow storms the wool is turned outwards for the purpose of shedding the water. The tanned side, if exposed to con- tinued wet, will, by reason of its imperfect preparation, become indurated, and be liable to get torn. Owing to the proximity of the pomegranate jungles of Asterabad, which supply the tanning materials in the shape of the rind of the fruit, and the nearness of Asterabad and Baku, from which alum can be obtained, Gumush Tepe enjoys a tolerably good trade in these tanned hides, many of which are disposed of to the Turcomans who live farther inland. Up to the arrival of the Russians at Tclrikislar, the only coins known at Gumush Tepe were the bran, equal in value to a franc, and the toman, or gold ten-franc piece. These comprised the whole of the money recognised by the Turcomans, and, in fact, do so to the present day, except on the Caspian littoral. In the vicinity of the latter, how- ever, not only silver roubles, but paper ones, are readily, and indeed eagerly received. It was a long time before the Turcomans could be got to understand the nature of paper money, but as they now see that in the Armenian ware- houses and shops at Tchikislar it will stand them in better stead than their own dumpy silver coins, they have fallen readily into its use. Within the last three or four years the coinage of the Persian mint has been remodelled, and krans stamped in a European style, flattened out to the size of a franc, are now issued, instead of the little, irregularly shaped, thick morsels of silver, broken at the edges. There UNCERTAIN COINAGE . 249 are also two-kran and fi ve-kran pieces. These also are received by the Gumush Tepe folk ; but there are places further up the country where the Turcomans will have nothing to do with them, and will accept only the old- fashioned kran and toman. Even the toman is not always willingly received, for as a rule the Turcomans have little or no gold, and do not understand it. Owing to their variety, and to the different dates at which they have been coined, these krans are a constant source of dispute between buyer and seller, as any traveller in this part of the world will have had emphatically brought under his notice. There is one species of kran which to the ordinary observer is entirely indistinguishable from the others. This kran was struck at the town of Hamadan, in Persia, and no Persian or Turcoman will accept it unless a percent- age be deducted. I could never definitely understand the reason of this. Some said that the silver was impure ; others that the silver was pure, but that the coins were under the proper weight ; others, again, that it did not hear the proper stamp, and so on. Each person had his own particular objection,* and the end of it all was that this kran was usually only received after an abatement of one-tenth of its nominal value. There is another kind of kran known as the Queen Mother, which, like the new one, bears the impress of a lion and sun, a crown, and a wreath of laurel leaves. This was the result of the first attempt to imitate European coinage. It is held in still lower estimation than the last-mentioned one, and there are sundry others which come into the same category. Then there are the false ones, and those of mixed metal; also those manufactured by the Turcomans themselves, out of suffi- ciently pure silver, but with the inscription in intaglio instead of relievo. The consequence of these differences, and of the nice distinctions made between them, is that 250 MEASURES. if yon have to pay away in krans a sum equal to five pounds sterling, the best part of a day is wasted in examining the coins one by one, and in hearing the arguments pro and con as to the relative merits of each. Another endless source of dispute among the Turco- mans is in regard to measure. When any material is sold by measure, calico for instance, the arsiiun , or gez, is employed. This measure is the distance between the tip of the nose and that of the fingers, the arm being outstretched. Of course its length is entirely dependent upon the dimen- sions of the arm of the measurer, and interminable are the controversies as to whether the calico shall be measured by the vendor or by the purchaser. Another kind of measur- ing is employed in the vending of corn — the cliancik. This literally means ‘ bowl,’ but it has also come to signify the quantity of corn which, piled to the utmost, can be held in the two palms, when joined after the manner of a basin. The sizes of the hands of these Turcomans vary very much, and a great variety of disputes is the consequence. ' There is another peculiarity in connexion with selling by measure. When the orthodox chanak bowl, one of certain recognised dimensions, is used, the buyer is generally allowed to measure for himself. He takes his place by the heap of corn, and his open sack stands ready at his side. He fills the clianak with his hands, heaping the corn carefully on so that it may rise as high as possible in a conical shape, and while a single grain more can be got to remain on the pile, he will not relinquish his attempts to be the gainer, be it by never so little. All this time he keeps repeating ‘ one, one, one,’ ‘ two, two, two,’ alluding to the first or second chanak , as the case may be, which he is engaged in filling up. Immediately upon pouring the contents of the bowl into his sack, he begins to fill afresh, again incessantly repeating the number of the chanak. It is curious to mark PASTIMES. 25 the expressions upon the faces of merchant and buyer — the avarice upon the countenance of the one, and the anxiety on that of the other. From such exhibitions as these I have often turned away with disgust. It is not often that the Turcomans indulge in amuse- ments. Their indoor recreations appear to be confined to chess, and a game of odd and even, played with the red and white knuckle-bones of sheep, the red ones being tinted with cochineal. In the open air, on certain occasions, such as weddings, and during Bairam, they have races, and what the Arabs would call fantasia. This latter consists of a number of young men, mounted on swift horses, with drawn swords and loaded muskets, who ride wildly about, going through a mimic combat, and discharging their pieces right and left. Among the children I noticed the game of 4 tip- cat,’ and I have also seen genuine kite-flying. The paper kite is here termed thomase. Whether its use be indigenous to the country, or whether it has been imported, I cannot say, but the Turcomans told me that it was of great antiquity. I have seen the elder boys playing at 4 hockey,’ or 4 hurling,’ as it is called in Ireland, just in the same way that it is played at home. Of art, delineative or otherwise, the Turcoman has no notion whatever. I have showm the Gumush Tepe people drawings from the 4 Illustrated London News ’ and 4 Punch,’ but the pictures failed to convey the slightest idea, unless, indeed, the spectator took up some absurd notion, utterly at variance with the object of the design. Still, they were never ceasing in their curiosity, and would gaze for hours and hours at a copy of 4 Punch,’ turned sideways or upside down — to them it was a matter of indifference which. I only remember one occasion upon which a Turcoman— old Agha Jik, who had obtained compensation from the thief who stole my horse-cloth — succeeded in discovering, in one 252 A PICTORIAL PROBLEM.— ANNO YA NCR S. of Mr. Sambourne’s allegorical cartoons in 4 Punch,’ the head of Mr. Gladstone. The right honourable gentleman is represented as a hermit crab, leaving the shell which served him as a former residence, and changing to a larger one — another constituency. ‘ This, I can see, is a man’s head,’ said the Turcoman ; 4 but what is this ? ’ pointing to the body of the hermit crab. 4 That,’ said I, 4 is a kind of fish.’ 4 Does it live in the water ? ’ asked he. 4 Yes,’ I replied. 4 Then,’ observed he, 4 this must be a su-adam ’ (a marine man). 4 Just so,’ I said, utterly wearied by my endeavours to explain, and having but little hope of bring- ing home to the minds of my hearers the political significa- tion of the design. I afterwards heard Agha Jik explaining to his friends that, as I had been telling them that England was surrounded by water, doubtless when the population became very large some were obliged to live in the sea. In the midst of such incidents as these, and in observing the manners and customs of these semi-savage people, I contrived to get through the long weary days in this out- of-the-way place beyond the Caspian. It was impossible to do any literary work during the day, and when after the final meal the family lay down to rest, and the venomous yelp of the jackals, answered by the deep baying of the village dogs, announced that the time for repose for the Turcomans had come, I felt relieved, as I could then be alone, follow out my thoughts, and commit them to paper. Thus occupied, I have sat on my carpet, beside the smoky astatki lamp, far into the small hours, and have lain down just as old Dourdi’s wife was rising to commence grinding flour for the morning meal in her horizontal quern. At first, the sensation of lying upon the floor of one of these kibitkas is a very curious one. One’s ear, in contact with the ground, brings to him all manner of murmurs and sounds from around, and he can hear the various conversations going NIGHT. 253 on in the neighbouring kibitJcas , or the tramp of distant belated horsemen coming towards the village. Sometimes one wakes up suddenly, and by the dim, smouldering fire- light sees the centre and radiating ribs of the domed roof like some huge arachnoid polypus brooding above him, and stooping to grasp him in its outstretched tentacles. This was the form of nightmare which commonly oppressed me in my scanty hours of sleep in the kibitka. 254 RESIGNATION OF TERGUKASOFF. CHAPTER XY. GTJMUSH TEPE TO ASTEKABAD. Gen eralMouravieff— Night scene on the Giurgen — Embarking for Tchikislar- Wild fowl — Fishing stations — At sea — Wading ashore — Moullah Dourdi — The Grand Hotel — Colonel Malama — Discussion about the frontier — Timour Beg — Banished again — Back to Gumush Tepe — Smoking apparatus — Beer drinking and casuistry — An unnecessary call — A storm sky — The snow ten/cis — Effects at Kenar Gez — The plains under snow — On the road to Asterabad — Cattle storm shelters — Dying sheep — Testing for blood — Turcomans camping — An improvised vehicle — A difficult ford — A camel in a difficulty — Swollen streams — Large mushrooms — Tortoises — Luxuriant grass growth — Suspected Turcomans — Muddy jungle — Wild boars. I had been residing continuously at Gumush Tepe about three months, when some Turcomans who had returned with a lugger from Tchikislar brought me intelligence of the resignation of General Tergukasoff, and the appoint- ment ad interim , to the command of the expeditionary forces, of Major-General Mouravieff. This change in the direction of affairs gave me some hope that I might after all be per- mitted to follow the operations of the Russian columns, and I determined to try my fortunes once more at the camp. I had considerable difficulty in inducing any of the Turco- mans who ordinarily travelled to and fro between Gumush Tepe and Tchikislar with forage and wood supplies for the camp to allow me to accompany them, as they knew that since my last visit to the Russian lines I had underlain a ban, and that if I again essayed to return I should in all probability be summarily expelled. By dint of great per- suasion, however, and the use of a good deal of diplomacy, A NIGHT VOYAGE. 255 I succeeded in making them believe that it was necessary and permissible for me to have an interview with the new general, and, aided by the efforts of my host, I at length managed to discover the owner of a lodka who agreed to convey me along the coast to the Russian encampment. It was a pitch dark night on March 4, 1880, a little over a year since I had arrived at Baku. The stars looked large and glittering in the inky sky — a phenomenon which I have often remarked in certain states of the atmosphere beyond the Caspian — as I stepped from the door of my kibitka, accompanied by old Dourdi, to embark on hoard the craft which he had found for me. He had been at great pains to secure trustworthy persons to convey me to the camp, for he was fearful about committing me to the care of the first person who offered, lest he, knowing that I was not in favour at the Russian head-quarters, should play me some trick en voyage . He was also anxious that I should return safely, especially as I had promised to bring back a new teapot for his wife, a brass one if such a thing could be found. Taking a stick two feet in length, and about an inch in diameter, he wrapped it with rags to a distance of six inches from the point, and, dipping it in the jar of black residual naphtha, or astatki, when saturated he rolled it in the ashes of the wood fire, and lighted it at the lamp. It blazed up, giving a lurid flame of a foot high, and we stepped out into the obscurity. We threaded our way along the river’s edge, where the reed bundles mingled with the earth, and, propped up on the side next the water by rude piles and planking, formed a kind of quay, the elastic surface of which yielded to the foot like an asphalte roadway during very hot weather. As we went along the dogs rushed at us in their usual ferocious manner, and stray villagers appeared constantly out of the gloom, gazing suspiciously at us as we passed. People who are out in these parts at this time 256 PREPARING TO START of night are generally supposed to be on some errand which does not bode good to anyone. Then we reached a muddy creek, stretching a hundred yards from the river, in which were two or three luggers in course of construction, and which we crossed on planks laid over rough trestles such as are to be seen in dock excavation works. On the other side we found a dug-out canoe, into which we squeezed ourselves. Dourdi planted the flaming torch at one end of our fragile boat, and we shoved off into the dark river. It was a picturesque sight. The ripples, stirred by the prow, glittered in the yellow glare of the torch, which shot an uncertain, wavy light on the dusky outlines of the anchored lodkas, and on the black, alligator-like tdimuls like our own, that moved silently by, each propelled, as ours was, by a single shovel-shaped paddle. The tall, dark figures of the boatmen, standing erect, seemed so many spectral forms gliding along the sable surface. We crossed the river obliquely, going towards a solitary kibitka lying a hundred yards lower down on the opposite side, from the open door of which proceeded the faint gleam of a lamp. A large one-masted lugger lay over on one side on the shelving muddy bank. We disembarked and entered the house. It was half full of hay and corn sacks awaiting transport to Tchikislar. A fire burned in the centre, and beside it, sur- rounded by nets and other fishing appurtenances, sat a woman, evidently of Persian race, with dark, strongly- marked, highly-arching eyebrows, large full eyes, and a general appearance which plainly denoted that she was no Turcoman. Seated in her lap was a child of some three or four years, clad in classically scanty raiment. As the flickering light fell upon her figure beside the dark shadows of the kibitka with Rembrandt-like effect, she would have made no had model for a latter-day aquiline- featured Madonna. I sat for some time by the fire, ruminating over DOWN THE GIURGEN 25 7 the possible results of my coming trip until two young men came in. After some bargaining, it was agreed to accord me a passage to Tchikislar for the sum of five krans (four shillings), on condition that I supplied candles during the voyage. After a good deal of hauling and pushing, the lugger was set afloat, and I embarked. Besides myself there was a crew of three. It was about nine o’clock in the evening as, spreading our great lateen sail, we glided away down the long, winding, canal-like channel, here not more than forty paces wide, between low, swampy banks, over- grown with tamarisk bushes. . As we left the glimmering lights of Gumush Tepe behind us, the clamour of wild fowl feeding in the marshes on either side reached our ears, and at intervals the noise of the frogs and toads sounded weirdly on the night. A mile down the river we came to a halt near an Armenian fishing station upon the left bank, to take in two passengers. Greatly to my surprise, I saw among those who came out of the kibitka, which served as a residence for the people employed at the fishing station, a Russian soldier in full uniform. Then we went on, as far as I could judge, for about a mile and a half, poling the lodka off the banks at the sharp turnings, then passing a wide estuary intersected with tree-grown islands, the commencement, probably, of a future delta ; for, unlike the Atterek, the Giurgen has one continuous and navigable channel to the open sea. Here, again, were extensive fishing stations, and lights gleamed along the shore in a southerly direction. I was told that* an extensive fishing village existed there. I stowed myself away under the forecastle, wrapped in my sheepskin mantle, after partaking of some tea made on a fire kindled in a shallow iron pan laid on flat bricks. I slept soundly, and it must have been about six o’clock in the morning when, after something like nine hours’ passage, we anchored off the level shore of s VOL. I. 258 TCHIKISLAR AGAIN.— GRAND HOTEL. Tchikislar. My companions told me that during the night they had had a good deal of tacking, the wind having shifted, and that they had been obliged to keep well out to sea, as the wind was off shore, and the waters were forced backwards and considerably reduced in depth. The sailors had brought with them some wild duck, pheasants, and vege- tables, to be sold at the camp, where, they said, they were able to obtain for them a price at least four times as large as could be got in their own village. I was brought as near the shore as possible in a taimul , but, small as was the draught of this dug-out canoe, I was obliged to wade at least fifty yards through the surf before I reached what might reasonably be called land. The camp was still buried in slumber ; probably if everyone had been about, as was the case later on, I should have been sent about my business immediately. None of the shops or booths were yet open, and I was forced for the moment to seek hospi- tality in the kibitka of an old acquaintance, the ex-pirate, Moullah Dourdi, who, true to the habits of his race, was up and stirring betimes. He had the reputation of being very rich, that is for a Turcoman, and to judge from the appearance of his house, crammed to the roof inside with tea-chests, rolls of calico, and other commodities, he seemed to be doing a thriving business. Somewhat later the denizens of the camp began to make their appearance, and the principal house of entertainment, a great rambling boarded structure with high-pitched roof, kept by an Italian sutler and known as the Grand Hotel, was opened. It was the place where a number of the staff officers boarded, and I was recognised by more than one as soon as I made my appearance at the breakfast-table. As soon as I could obtain an audience, I presented myself before my old friend Colonel Malama, the chief of staff, who still occupied the position he had held under General Lazar eff. He looked A DISCUSSION.— EXPELLED AGAIN 259 much aged and worn, short as was the time since I had last seen him, and I was not surprised at it, considering that he had been through the disastrous affair of the first attack on Geok Tepe, and had borne his full share of the responsibilities which the precipitate retreat from before that stronghold entailed. I asked him to tell General Mouravieff that I had come to make application to be allowed to remain at Tchikislar, and to follow the operations of the column, and he promised to do as I desired as soon as the General was visible. I spent the day in roving about the camp, and could perceive but little alteration in its general appearance, save that there was much less animation than when I had last been there, owing to the withdrawal of a large portion of the forces to the western side of the Caspian, where they had taken up quarters for the winter. The evening was enlivened by a rather hot discussion between myself and some engineer officers on the question of the actual boundary between Persia and the Eussian trans- Caspian territory, one of them stoutly main- taining that the Atterek to its sources was, and could not but be, the legitimate boundary, and that which was laid down in treaties. It was scarce day-break on the following morning when I was aroused by a loud knocking at the door of the little alcove in which I slept. The major of a battalion, with whom I had formerly been on very friendly terms, accompanied by the chief of the camp police, a certain Timour Beg, a Mussulman lieutenant of cavalry, made their appearance, bearing an order from General Mouravieff that I should immediately quit the camp and return to Gumush Tepe, or any other place to which I might choose to proceed, provided I left the limits of the Eussian lines. I asked permission to remain until I had eaten my breakfast, and then, accompanied by the same officers, I departed for the shore, where a lodka , specially *6o BACK TO THE GIURGEN. retained for my transport back to Gumnsh Tepe, was lying. The major was eager in his expressions of regret that I should be thus compelled to leave Tchikislar, and said how surprised he was to see me so treated, he having known me to be on such exceedingly good terms with the late General Lazareff and Generals Borch and Wittgenstein. It was not General MouraviefF s fault, he said. He was aware that a telegram had arrived in the camp on. the previous evening, whether from Tiflis or St. Petersburg he did not know, in reply to one despatched by the General in relation to my- self, and which contained a peremptory order to see that I left the place forthwith. A ttiimul brought me alongside of the lugger, and I found a sufficiently numerous body of passengers already aboard, some fifteen in all. We set sail about eight o’clock, and stowed ourselves away upon the rude ribs of the primitive craft, so as to be as much as possible out of the way of the bilge water that went uneasily to and fro. A smoking apparatus, in size and shape very like Highland bagpipes, was produced, and the general cir- culation of it from hand to hand commenced. We stood out for a couple of miles, until from our little craft we could only distinguish long streaks of low-lying coast, which, apart from occasional sand-hills, were only just enough to indicate land. Far away ahead the Persian mountains, like a blue dream, loomed to the southward. Our passage was favour- able enough until towards evening, when the wind died away almost entirely, and sweeps had to be got out, by the aid of which we crawled along slowly enough. A couple of hours before sunset the breeze again sprang up, and we scudded away briskly before it. The company were very cheerful ; most of them, apparently, to judge from their conversation, having been successful in their commercial transactions at the camp. Many of them indulged in such un-Mussulman-like refreshment as bottled Kazan beer, pur- THE TENKIS AGAIN. 261 chased at the drink-shops of Tchikislar, doubtless not thinking themselves less obedient to the teachings of the Koran on that account. The more lax Mussulmans always excuse themselves for excessive indulgence in vodka, arrack, and brandy, on the plea that wine only is forbidden by Mahomet. We had a moullah on board, who was piously demonstrative, saying his prayers with the greatest persist- ence during the greater portion of the voyage ; and though we were sitting crowded together in a narrow space, almost touching each other, he would insist upon putting his open hands behind his jaws as the muezzims do, and calling the faithful to prayer, as if all who had it in their power to respond had not been at his elbow. I did not like the appearance of the sky as we entered the mouth of the Giurgen. There were meteoric-looking clouds athwart the sun, and that angry glare over the waters which in this part of the world heralds a tempest. The wind again fell, and a dead calm ensued. The lugger had to be rowed and poled almost the entire distance between the mouth of the river and the village. A fierce yellow storm-light was on the lodka masts, and angry red streaks shone over the looming snow-clad Elburz. The leaden waters of the Giurgen slept ‘ stilly black,’ the sun went down, and the call of the muezzim, like that of some storm demon, arose upon the ominous silence pervading land and sky. I had not been more than a few minutes on shore when the scudding mist -drift made its appearance along the western horizon, and before long the tempest was upon us. It was fortunate for us that we got on shore so soon. The storm struck the village with greater force than I had yet seen. The cattle galloped wildly about, the camels straggling here and there with their awkward run, stiffly brandishing their tails. The evening sky forcibly reminded me of a tornado scene which I once witnessed in St. Louis* 262 CONFUSION.— EFFECTS OF STORM. Missouri, and the roaring noise of the wind and rain that swept over the village brought the same storm still more vividly back to my memory. Ere long it was pitch dark, and general confusion reigned throughout Gumush Tepe. The naphtha torches flared in every direction. Eopes and poles were hurriedly brought into requisition, and the universal hubbub, mingled with the noise of the storm, gave the place the appearance of being the scene of some unearthly combat. These sudden storms from the sea are of such frequent occurrence that I wondered why perma- nent precautions were not taken against their ever-recur- ring violence. When I asked old Dourdi why he did not always keep his kibitka tied down with ropes, and plant poles to support the structure against the fury of the wind, instead of removing all the fastenings the moment the tempest had passed by, he frankly told me that if he were to leave his tackling for a single night outside, it would disappear before morning — a good and cogent reason for placing it in security within. This storm was one of the worst that had happened for some time, and I could not help congratulating myself and my fellow-passengers upon having got ashore before its fury hurst upon us, for I am certain that if such had not been the case not one of us would have reached land. Some miles to the south, at the station of Kenar Gez, the Persian custom-house— not, it is true, a very solid building — was unroofed and completely wrecked, and three men were drowned. The wooden pier was broken in two, and several small vessels were driven ashore. This storm, unlike the others which had occurred during my stay in these parts, was not of short duration. It continued with unceasing violence during the greater part of the night. Towards midnight it was accompanied by hail and a heavy snowfall. When I looked out in the morn- ing the sun was shining brightly over a vast gleaming SNOW.— OFF TO ASTERABAD. 263 expanse of virgin snow. I had never before seen the plains thus covered. It is singular that, while during the months of January and February the weather had been compara- tively mild and warm, it should at this late period turn so bitterly cold, and that we should be plunged, as it were, into the depth of winter. The snow-fall must have been excessively heavy, for it was fully six inches deep out in the open. It was drifted in great banks against every obstacle in the course of the wind, and piled high against the kibitkas. Everyone was at work sweeping the snow from the felt roofing, and clearing pathways from door to door. The dogs, for a wonder, were undemonstrative, and cowered in sheltered corners out of the reach of the cutting blast that whistled and moaned through the village. Never have I seen so sudden and striking a transformation, in so brief a period, over the whole face of the country. Finding that my last chance of again being allowed to take up my quarters in the Russian camp had departed, I decided to return to Asterabad, there to consult with my friend Mr. Churchill as to what course I ought to pursue, and I took advantage of the setting out for the same place of a Turcoman who had been acting as agent for the British Consul at that city, and who was going in with his usual fortnightly report of the movements of the Russians. For obvious reasons I refrain from giving the name of this courier. On the morning following the storm, accompanied by this man and my servant, I took the usual route towards Kara Suli Tepe, from which point the road turned in a south-easterly direction towards Oum Shali, one of the principal points at which Turcomans going and coming between Asterabad and Gumush Tepe cross the Giurgen river. Far away out on the plain, with not a bush a foot high to shelter us against the piercing wind, I could fully realise the value of a Turcoman sheepskin kusgun , and of 264 CATTLE STORM-SHELTERS. the extra length of sleeve which I could snugly double over my hand. The cold was not so excessive that one need complain of it, but the keen wind, sweeping unimpeded over these vast solitudes, lent to it a bitterness which must be felt to be appreciated. The plain stretching between Gumush Tepe and Kara Suli Tepe is mainly uninhabited, being near enough to the village to allow of the camels and herds being sent to pasture early in the morning, and brought home at night, but beyond the latter place a scene truly characteristic of the Steppes came under my obser- vation. Here, at intervals of four or five miles, are small groups of kibitkas, each group consisting of from ten to twenty dwellings, and placed with a view to the grazing of the numerous flocks and herds ordinarily scattered over the plain. The inhabitants of these huts were now to be met with in every direction, camped in small groups here and there, as far as the eye could reach. When the snow tenkis swept over them they had bethought themselves of their sheep and lambs, distributed for miles round under the guardianship of a few shepherds, and exposed to all the fury of the wintry blast. Knowing from experience the fatal results of these visitations, they had hurried out to parry, as best they might, the disastrous effects of the tenkis upon their flocks, and everywhere were to be seen shelters, rapidly constructed out of the first material that came to hand. In these outlying villages one sees, at all seasons of the year, a number of objects whose destination had more than once sorely puzzled me. These were fascines of giant reeds, twenty feet long, eighteen inches thick at one extremity, where the butts of the reeds were together, and half that thickness at the -other end, where the plumy tops were bound together in a point. I now saw to what use they were put. The earth had been cut slopingly, deepening gradually from the surface to a depth of about CATTLE STORM-SHELTERS. 265 three feet, and then abruptly scarped. The excavated earth was thrown up in the form of a parapet, and solidly beaten. This parapet was next the wind, the sloping ditch which led down to it being in the opposite direction, and the entire line at right angles to the direction of the storm. The reed fascines were laid sloping, at an angle of forty-five degrees, across the top of this parapet, their thick ends being buried in the earth, and firmly secured in position by stakes, so that the plumy extremities of the reeds were pointed in the direction towards which the wind blew. Under cover of the parapet and the sloping roof formed by the fascines the flocks crowded together, and were thus to a certain extent secured against the effects of the blast, and the more or less vertically falling snow and hail. A screen of this description afforded passable shelter from the extreme violence of the storm, sufficient for the stronger animals, such as camels, cows, and full-grown sheep, to a distance of thirty or forty feet from the parapet, while the young lambs and kids cowered close down in the cutting. In some instances there had not been time to erect these parapets, and the fascines were supported in the necessary position by horizontal poles, reaching from top to top of stout stakes driven vertically into the ground. Where these fascines were not prepared for use, the villagers had brought out their quilts and felt floor-cloths, which, attached to wooden bars such as I have described, and held in a vertical position by stakes driven through their lower edges, gave a limited shelter to the portion of the flocks least able to bear the inclemency of the weather. These precautions, how- ever, had apparently come too late, to a great extent, for on every side were strewn dead and dying lambs and sheep. Men with long knives were going from one prostrate animal to another, cutting their throats to see if blood would flow. In case it did, however slightly, the carcass was 266 A FEAST FOR JACKALS.— TURCOMAN MARCH. taken to the village to be consumed as food ; but, if no blood came, the flesh was abandoned to the village dogs, and to the wolves and jackals, who would invariably make their appearance as the sun sank below the horizon. The number of animals who perished in this snow tenkis, to judge from my observations of the limited space over which I rode, must have been enormous. As we moved further eastward, the snow diminished very perceptibly, and when we reached the usual fording- place on the Giurgen, at Oum Shali, it had almost entirely disappeared. Even at this early season of the year the mid-day hours were exceedingly warm. We tried in vain to find a for ding-place at this point. The waters were beginning to rise, and it would have been very hazardous to risk the attempt. We accordingly pushed on five or six miles further to the east, until nearly abreast with the old Persian fortress of Mehemet Giurgen, on the southern bank of the river, where it makes a sudden bend to the south- ward. Here we found II Geldi Khan, the Turcoman chief of whom I have spoken as accompanying me overland to Tchikislar. He was engaged in shifting one of his villages to a more favourable pasture ground. A considerable portion of the kibitkas and household materials were on the ground, and the remainder were gradually arriving. In this part of the world there are no wheeled vehicles. The nearest approach to a vehicle of any kind which I saw was a cylindrical wicker basket like a gabion, about four feet in length and two and a half feet in diameter, open at each extremity. Through the centre of one of the sides had been thrust a lance, and a man, mounted upon a tall Turcoman horse, his wife seated behind him, held the other extremity of the weapon in his hand, thereby drawing the basket after him. In it were a quantity of hay, and some lesser house- hold goods and chattels. Baskets of the same kind were to A DIFFICULT CROSSING. 267 be seen at intervals, placed upright upon one end. These were the field mangers for the horses, and they prevented the hay from being swept away by the wind, as would have been the case had it remained unprotected. The household effects were carried on the backs of camels, the men and women riding on horseback. All around stood the wooden skeletons of kibitkas, not yet covered with felt, and looking exactly like so many gigantic parrot cages. Women in their bright coloured garments were, as usual, hard at work erecting the dwellings ; the men sat idly about, smoking their water-pipes, and chatting, their rifles and muskets lying in symmetrical rows on the ground near them. Even at this point, which is considered the safest of all at which to cross the river, it was by no means an easy task to get to the opposite side. A guide, sent by 11 Geldi Khan, and mounted on a very tall camel, led the way, the animal pro- ceeding obliquely up the stream, feeling the bottom carefully with its great cushioned feet to make sure that he did not slide from the kind of ridge which at that point rendered the river fordable. It is very dangerous to attempt the ford without a guide ; and, even when the river is easily passable, the steep and slippery banks of yellow loam present a serious obstacle. I succeeded in getting over, my horse once completely losing his footing, and going quite under water, to the no small detriment of the contents of my saddle-bags. Arrived at the other side, he managed with great difficulty to struggle up the steep bank, but when near the. top, which was about twenty-five feet above the surface of the river, he again lost his footing, and slid back into the stream. I had at length to dismount in water waist deep, and scramble up on all fours, plastering myself all over with sticky loam. The camel which carried the guide, thanks to its long legs, got well across the stream, but failed utterly to climb the bank. Several times, by creep- 268 DEAD SHEEP.— MUSHROOMS. ing on its knees, it mounted ten or twelve feet, but then, becoming tired, lay down with its neck stretched out like an enormous snail, and in this position glided backwards inch by inch into the water, where it stood uttering dissatisfied growls, such as can only proceed from the mouth of a camel. The guide was to have accompanied us in the direction of Asterabad, but in consequence of the sheer impossibility of getting his camel up the bank, we perforce moved on with- out his company. Though no snow was visible on the southern side of the river, a fact which was doubtless owing to its having dis- appeared before the rays of the hot afternoon sun, we con- stantly met with the dead bodies of sheep, lambs, and kids, many of them in a very mangled condition by reason of the ravages of the wolves, jackals, and dogs. Finding myself unable to reach Asterabad the same night, I stayed at a gathering of kibitkas situated about two hours’ ride from the town, and at the northern edge of the jungle. There had been heavy rains during the preceding fortnight, and the rivers and streams everywhere were gradually beginning to fill. Even the Kara-Su, which is usually but a series of swamps united by insignificant rivulets, was now a very respectable river, and quite unfordable. At the village it was spanned by a very rickety extempore bridge of tree- trunks and branches. In the proximity of this stream, which falls into the sea at Kenar Gez, mushrooms covered the ground in every direction, some being as large as a dinner plate. At first I was very chary about making use of them, but, seeing the inhabitants eat them freely, I tried them also, and found them excellent. They are precisely the same in flavour as those eaten in England. I had often noticed immense quantities of them along the Giurgen, near Gumush Tepe, but, owing to their enormous size, had taken it for granted that they were inedible. For half a A FERTILE TRACT. 269 kran one can purchase a quantity which would fill up and pile an ordinary wash-hand basin. Large numbers of young tortoises crept about everywhere, and immense growths of dandelion flourished in the same locality. The grass and reed growth along this southerly portion of the plain, extending between the Giurgen and the Kara-Su, is exceedingly luxuriant, owing to the excellent water supply combined with the heat of the sun, and I am much surprised that the nomads do not frequent the district more than they do. Possibly they fear to be in too close proximity to the central administration at Asterabad, a position which would greatly facilitate the extracting from them of additional funds by the local authorities. I passed the night in a kibitka placed at the disposal of myself and my servant, as it seemed to be understood that we would not trust our- selves alone with any of the village people during the night. They belonged to the Ata-bai Turcomans, and were a peculiar subdivision of that tribe which bore a very bad character indeed. They were held responsible for certain Persians who had disappeared, shortly before our arrival, while endeavouring to cross this portion of the plain. Early in the morning I took my departure, riding by a narrow path through the pomegranate and thorn jungle. The snow, which had here lodged in great quantities, had melted, and the loamy mud was fully eighteen inches deep, rendering the path all but impassable. Weary hours of wading were spent in getting through this chaos. We passed several fortified Persian villages, situated within clearings, one of them occupying the summit of one of the ancient tepes, or' hills. It probably presented an exact picture of what each of the other hills dotting the plain to the northward was when the district was inhabited. On every side were wild-boar tracks, and from time to time, as we sought to avoid the muddy ditch along which we were 270 THROUGH THE JUNGLE. riding, by turning aside into the field, we saw parties of from five to six boars, with their broods, go crashing suddenly before us, away into the depths of the thickets. It was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon as, thoroughly tired out, I drew bridle at the gate of the British Consulate in Asterabad. A HALT AT ASTERABAD. 271 CHAPTER XVI. ROUND THE PLAINS BY AK-KALA. A troublesome servant — Mehemedabad — Camp at Nergis Tepe — Afghan escort — Cattle scenting blood — Porcupines — Offending a moullah — Bridge over Kara-Su — Old town of Giurgen — Modern fort — Seat of Kadjar family — Persian artillerymen and sharpshooters — Ak-Kala bridge — Turcoman medresses — View from the ramparts — Firing at a Turcoman — Persian military prestige — A humorous moullah — Verses on a mantel- piece — Paring an epistle — Banks of the Giurgen — Camels shedding winter coats — Triple chain of mounds— Oum Shali — Pheasants and partridges — A hungry wolf — Lost in the reed brakes — Stranded fish — Overflow of Giurgen — Curing fish — Wood turners — A Kurd gallant — Matron’s indig- nation — Plans for the future — Russian threats — Saddling for Asterabad — Dangers of the road — Goklan ‘ no tax ’ movement — Putrescent fish — A mutual misunderstanding — Wild boars and jackals— Passage of swollen Giurgen by cattle — Lunch with the nomads — Victims of the tenJcis — Arrival at Asterabad — News of Skobeleff — Mr. Zinovieff — Journey to Teheran decided on. I remained some days at Asterabad, enjoying the kind hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill at the British Con- sulate, and endeavouring to recuperate my energies after the Turcoman regime to which I had so long been subjected at Gumush Tepe, and I then undertook an expedition to the Persian border fort of Ak-Kala, on the banks of the Giurgen. This is ‘ the only point at which the stream is spanned by a bridge, and where, consequently, it can be crossed at all seasons. As it is at all times hazardous for one or two persons to trust themselves out in these plains, and especially so at a time like that of which I am speak- ing, when all manner of miscreants were abroad, I decided to proceed first to the Persian camp of Nergis Tepe and try 272 A COWARDLY SERVANT. to procure an escort. Accompanied by my servant, an Armenian from Erivan, who had come with me from Tchikislar after LazarefFs death, I rode northward towards the fortified village of Mehemedabad, situated some miles off, in the midst of the jungle. During this journey the misconduct of my servant greatly annoyed and incon- venienced me. He was exceedingly cowardly by nature, and, with the view of drowning his fears of the dangers which he anticipated meeting with in the jungle, had par- taken very freely of the deleterious spirit here called arrack, and during the ride he continued to help himself from the bottle to such an extent that he became quite drunk, or at least pretended to be so. He was cruelly maltreating the horse which he rode, beating him savagely between the ears with a heavy riding whip, all the time scarcely able to keep his saddle. I several times ordered him to desist, but he paid no attention to me, and finally became very insolent. He said he would go no further, and, turning his horse’s head towards Asterabad, proceeded to ride away in that direction, carrying with him all my baggage. I shouted to him to come back, and, drawing my revolver, threatened to fire if he did not obey. He took no notice of my threat, and I was obliged to gallop after him. Seizing his horse’s bridle, I commanded him to dismount. He tried to strike me with the butt of his whip, but I avoided the blow, and, imme- diately dismounting, seized him by the heel of one boot, and threw him from the saddle into the mud, where I left him wallowing. Eemounting, I took the second horse by the bridle, and rode on alone to Mehemedabad, which was close by. Some of the inhabitants, mounted upon the ramparts, had been witnesses of the scene, and were under the impression that I had killed my servant. However, even if I had done so it would have created but little astonishment, such things AN AFGHAN ESCORT. 2 73 being quite in the order of the day in this neighbourhood ; and as I entered the gateway of their fortalice they only crowded curiously about me, asking what the man had done. I told them that he was drunk and insolent, that he refused to accompany me, and that he tried to bolt back to Asterabad with my effects ; that I had thrown him from his horse ; and that they would doubtless find him asleep where I left him, in the middle of the muddy roadway. I then inquired if there were anyone present who would be good enough to guide me to the Persian camp at Nergis Tepe, promising to reward him handsomely. There seemed to be some hesitation at first, but at length one young fellow stepped forward and volunteered to go with me. I made him mount the second horse, and we plunged into a labyrinth of mingled morass and jungle, leading up to the edge of the Kara-Su, which we forded with some diffi- culty, and a quarter of an hour’s further ride brought us to the camp. Here I dismissed my guide, with a present of some pieces of money, and went at once to General Yeli Khan, who was kind enough to place a tent at my service. I passed the day at the camp, sleeping there the same evening. Next morning, General Mustapha Khan, commanding the entire forces, and Governor of Asterabad, kindly furnished me with an escort of eight horsemen, who were to conduct me to Ak-Kala, about four hours’ ride to the north-eastward. These horsemen were descendants of members of the Afghan colony founded around Asterabad by Nadir Shah on his return from the conquest of India. There are, I believe, six or seven hun- dred of them in all attached to the government of Astera- bad. They are for the most part Mahometans of the Sunnite sect. We struck out in an easterly direction, across a per- fectly level plain, covered with short crisp grass, similar to VOL. i. T 274 BOVINE INSTINCT.— PORCUPINES. that seen upon our downs, there being a sprinkling of tamarisk and camel-thorn here and there. Cattle in large numbers were browsing over the plain, and a singular in- stance of animal instinct came under my observation. One of our party had brought down a partridge which had risen just in front of him, and, the bird being considerably mangled, its blood fell upon the turf. One of the party at the same moment dismounted to arrange his saddle- girths, and during our halt a herd of small, dark- coloured cows were driven up by a shepherd. They were walking quietly, but when the foremost arrived at the spot where the blood of the partridge had been spilled, she sniffed its odour with dilated nostrils, lowing plaintively. Several others gathered round her, acting similarly, and then they all set off in a mad gallop, with outstretched and stiffened tails, circling round the spot. This manoeuvre they repeated several times, lowing as before when they smelt the blood. As we continued our way I noticed a great number of porcupine quills lying about, the quills of each animal being all on one spot, just where the body had decomposed. The Mussulmans consider this animal un- clean, and I recollect once giving great offence to a moullah by indicating a place upon a map with a porcupine quill. We recrossed the Kara-Su river on a tall bridge of several arches, over which the causeway of Shah Abass the Great passed. The bridge was a fairly substantial struc- ture, and at either extremity of it was a tall brick obelisk painted white, to guide approaching travellers, and to act as beacons in the midst of the dangerous morasses which flanked the river at this point. After this we turned directly to the northward, and soon came in view of Ak- Kala. Ak-Kala is about thirty miles from the seashore, on the banks of the Giurgen, and about three hours’ ride north of RUINS OF GIURGEN —AK-KALA. 275 Asterabad. It is a Persian military station on the real frontier — for the Ginrgen is the practical limit of the king- dom on this side. The place is an interesting one from a historical point of view. It was formerly named Ginrgen, and up to a century ago was a flourishing and populous town. It was the head- quarters of one of the two rival branches of the great Kadjar family to which the reigning dynasty belongs. The second branch had its centre at Asterabad. After a series of bloody struggles the Asterabad family succeeded in asserting its supremacy, and the de- struction of Giurgen followed. The ruins of the town consist of a crumbling wall of sun-baked brick, flanked by numerous towers, enclosing an oblong space five or six hundred yards in length by four hundred in breadth. Within are confused heaps of earth, tile, and rubbish, in- dicating the sites of the former dwellings. Vultures and buzzards sit all day long on these melancholy mounds ; and the snake and jackal shelter among the sparse brambles. Outside the walls are traces of vast encampments — probably those of besieging armies ; and the dry bed of an ancient canal, which brought water to the place from the Kara-Su, still remains. This means of supply had to be adopted, for though one end of the town touches the banks of the Giurgen river, the great depth to which the stream has excavated its bed, and the vertical nature of the sides, rendered it difficult and tedious to furnish a whole popula- tion by the process of hoisting water in buckets. The modern fort of Ak-Kala (the White Fort) occupies the site of the ancient citadel in the north-eastern corner of the old town. It is about 150 yards square. At each corner is a brick bastion. The curtain walls are of unbaked brick, and in a very ruinous condition. In some places the footbank has crumbled away to such an extent that only a few inches in breadth remain, and making the 276 FORTIFICA TIONS.— GARRISON. circuit of the enceinte is a perilous affair. In designing the loopholes great regard seems to have been had for the safety of the defenders, the openings being in size and shape what would be formed by thrusting an ordinary broomstick through a fresh mud wall. On each bastion is mounted an old-fashioned bronze 12-pounder, beside which stands a wild-looking artilleryman in a tattered blue calico tunic faced with red cotton braid, and wearing a huge shaggy hat of brown sheepskin like that of a Turcoman. A colonel commanded the post. He had under his orders five or six hundred nondescript soldiers, some of whom carried old smooth-bore muskets. A select company was armed with enormously long rifles of Persian manufacture, having attached a fork support as a rest, like the mediaeval arque- buses. The tall brick bridge spanning the river has four arches, and its northern end is protected by a ruined bar- bican. On the north side of the river are extensive remains of the old town, or rather its suburbs, all of unbaked brick. In their midst is a large modern brick house, built by a former governor of the fort. From the ramparts the eye ranges over an immense expanse of plain, unbroken save by an occasional group of Turcoman huts, and the colossal remains of the entrenchments along the so-called Alexan- der’s wall, which here runs parallel to the Giurgen at a distance of from two to three miles to the north. Within sight are three medresses, or collegiate institutions, for the instruction of Turcoman students for the priesthood. These are some of the few permanent structures I have ever seen among the nomads. They are built of large flat heavy bricks taken from the Kizil Alan and its old forts. They are generally square buildings, forty feet on either side, two stories high, with a sloping broad-eaved roof of red tiles, the latter also derived from the ancient ruins. All these different objects, by an optical illusion, seem of enormous MUTUAL HOSTILITY. 2 77 size, and floating, cut off from earth in the trembling opal mirage. I am not aware whether up to the present any systema- tic excavations have been made in these old entrenchments and mounds ; but I think that such ought to well repay the trouble. Even the chance excavations made for the purposes of interment by the Turcomans, for they always choose elevated sites for such purposes, bring to light pieces of silver money and ancient pottery of the Alexandrian period. Forty or fifty miles to the southward rose, tier over tier, the huge ridges of the Elburz chain of mountains, then covered with snow almost to their base. Nestling at their foot, half hidden by the dense forest growth around, the towers of Asterabad were faintly visible ; and here and there gigantic columns of dense black smoke rose into the still air, until their heads appeared like clouds in the sun- light. These proceeded from the vast reed and cane brakes burned by the peasantry in order to dislodge the numerous wild boars who work such havoc in the rice-fields, both when the crop is springing and when it is at maturity. After sunset the gates of the fort are carefully barred, and, unless in considerable bodies, none of the garrison ever venture outside the walls. A kind of undeclared war is the normal state of things here between the Turcomans and Persians, deliberate assassinations, perpetrated by either party as it happens to be momentarily stronger, being of frequent occurrence. As an instance of the kind of feeling which exists, the following incident, which took place as I was on my w T ay to Ak-Kala, will suffice. I was accompanied, as I have said, from the Persian camp on the Kara-Su by an escort of eight cavalry. When well out in the plain we saw approaching a Turcoman cavalier, coming along at the easy swinging gallop which the horses of this country will maintain for hours without fatigue. When 278 EXCHANGING FIRE. -THE ‘ SERTIB: the horseman was within a couple of hundred yards of us on our left, a young Persian who accompanied me drew his revolver, and, cursing the Turcoman as a Kaffir and a son of Shaitan , deliberately fired four shots at him. The Turcoman, apparently without heeding, kept on his way until, passing by our rear, he was about four hundred yards on our right, close to his village. He then unslung his long gun, and sent a bullet whistling and screeching in un- comfortable proximity to our heads. Whereupon some of the escort fired at him repeatedly, he returning the compli- ment three times, each time with bullets which came quite close to us. We and he being in motion, and the distance being so considerable, the danger of a bullet; telling was of course very small, but the whole thing shows the spirit of the mutual relations between the two peoples. This same Persian who commenced the affair with his re- volver, would have been far from exhibiting such a trucu- lent spirit had he been alone or accompanied by only a couple of his countrymen. On one occasion I remarked to him that I thought it rather risky to have drawn off the entire army to such a distance from Asterabad, as a thou- sand or so of Turcomans might easily surprise and sack the town during the absence of its defenders. ‘ A thousand ! ’ he exclaimed. £ A hundred would be sufficient to do that, and to put the whole Persian army to flight as well. The Turcomans never turn their backs ; we do.’ What he said was not far from the truth, and it shows that Persian military prestige is not high, even among themselves. The ‘ sertib ’ (lieutenant- colonel) Lutfveli Khan, com- manding the place, received myself and my young Persian companion very kindly, and conducted us over the fort. It was with great difficulty that we were able to pass some of the broken portions of the ramparts, worn down by rainfalls into precipitous gullies and inclined planes. The DRAM-DRINKING.— AN AMUSING PRIEST. 279 Colonel gravely informed us that His Majesty the Shah had given orders that these defects should be repaired, and that doubtless some of these days they would be. I was much amused by seeing this officer stalking gravely along, followed by two mysterious acolytes, one of whom concealed under his sizeable mantle a bottle of arrack, the other carrying a set of those hemispherical brass drinking- cups peculiar to Persia. Whenever we got into some convenient place of retirement, such as the interior of one of the flank- ing bastion towers, the bottle and cups were deftly produced, and the forbidden liquor circulated freely. The Colonel told me that he was weary of his lonesome post out here on the edge of the wilderness, and that he did not care how soon he was recalled. I asked him whether the Turcomans ever menaced him in his position, but he replied that the garrison were too much on their guard, and that, besides the fear the desert horsemen had of his pieces of artillery, they would gain hut little even if they succeeded in captur- ing the place. The northern side of the old town of Giurgen, one angle of the site of which is occupied by the fort of Ak-Kala, rested directly upon the river itself, the banks of which here go sheer down from the base of the walls. The ordinary level of the water cannot be less than thirty-five feet below the surface of the plain, and is entirely inacces- sible, except at certain points, where zigzag paths have been cut in order to enable cattle to descend. At the time of my visit the Giurgen was gradually rising, and the Colonel informed me that a few days previously two of his men were drowned while bathing a little above the bridge. At sundown he entertained us at dinner, and we had the company of a very amusing priest, who, after chanting the regulation call to prayers, in the cracked, quavering voic8 which for some reason, best known to themselves, the Shiite 28 o AN INSCRIPTION. A MIRZA. muezzims adopt on these occasions, and which contrasts so unfavourably with the full, rich, and really melodious tones of the Turcoman crier, partook very liberally of arrack, and entertained the company with Persian comic songs. One of these, the gist of which I could not make out, seemed to the Colonel so exquisitely ludicrous, that he was compelled to lie back upon his carpet and grasp his stomach as he shook in every limb with convulsive laughter. The dinner over, and a few more brazen cups of arrack emptied, we retired, as is the custom in Persia, to our sleeping apart- ments. The Colonel occupied a large and spacious kibitka on a wide platform above one of the northern gates. My chamber was in a permanent brick edifice not far off. I remarked a curious verse of poetry which was inscribed upon the mantelpiece in this apartment. It was written in Persian, in a very neat hand, above the centre of the fireplace, and was to the following effect: — ‘We are here gathered in company around the fire, like moths around a flame ; the moths sometimes scorch themselves ; this fire is the flame, we are the moths.’ The writer did not state whether or not he had scorched himself on the occasion of his writing. While I was at Ak-Kala a large number of letters arrived for the Colonel, and I saw repeated a process which I had often before noticed at Asterabad — the curious way in which his mirza , or secretary, prepared each of them for perusal. He cut off the extra paper, and having trimmed the whole neatly round with a pair of scissors, handed them to the Colonel to read. This appears to be an indis- pensable preliminary ceremony to the reading of a letter by any person pretending to a certain dignity. On the following morning my young Persian acquaint ance and the escort returned to the Persian camp, while I, accompanied by a new servant whom I had hired there, BANKS OB GIURGEN.— CAMEL HERDS. 281 crossed the bridge over the Giurgen, and, following the northern bank, directed my course towards Gumush Tepe. On all sides, and reaching away to the horizon, were large groups of kibitkas, the Turcomans taking advantage of the advent of the young spring grass to pasture their herds. I was not wholly free from apprehensions as, one by one, we passed these groups of nomads, and I cast many an anxious glance behind me as I left the precincts of each. I may here say that my object in returning to the aoull of Gumush Tepe by this particular route was to verify the statements that had been made to me about large numbers of camels being brought together in the inter-fluvial plain to be held in readiness for the service of the Russian expe- ditionary column. I wished, also, to examine the formation of the river bank between Ak-Kala and the sea, for pre- viously I had only seen that portion of it which lay between Nergis Tepe and the Caspian. As regards the river banks, I found that along the entire distance they were of the same steep nature, but gradually diminishing in height towards the sea-coast ; that the water level was accessible only at certain points, and at these only with difficulty. That there was an unusual gathering of camels north of the Giurgen there was no difficulty in perceiving ; and, more- over, I could verify the statement made by the Ata-bai Turcomans, when refusing for the moment to supply camels for the Russian transport, that at this season their animals were not in a condition to work, and that any attempt to force them to do so would cause their death or disablement. In the early spring, out on these plains, the camel sheds its coat. Those which composed the herds which I met at short intervals were really most unsightly-looking objects. Their great ragged winter coats had partially fallen from their backs, or hung in tatters upon them, leaving the skin beneath bare, black, and sodden-looking. They looked, in 282 OUM SHALL— GRAIN CULTIVATION. fact, as if they had been half boiled. The entire plain was covered with clots of camel hair, which children with baskets were engaged in collecting, probably with the view of having it spnn into threads for weaving purposes. Between Ak-Kala and the sea there is a very large number of ancient mounds, forming a complete triple chain ; and in many instances the great broad, shallow ditches which sometimes surround their bases were filled with water from the late rain and snow storm. I crossed the Tchikislar-Asterabad telegraph line opposite the Persian camp, lying south of the river at Nergis Tepe, traversed unmolested the large village where, on journeying the first time from Tchikislar to Asterabad, I had been obliged to have recourse to my revolver to drive off the savage dogs, and drew near the aoull of Oum Shali towards mid-day. The name of this place means, literally, the ‘ corn road,’ oum, in the Tartar language, signifying ‘ a road,’ and shall a poor species of brownish corn used chiefly for feeding horses. A considerable extent of ground was under cultiva- tion, this fact being due, I believe, to the ready and profit- able market found for cereals in the neighbouring Russian camp. I have no doubt that, were ready transport avail- able, the whole of these vast plains would speedily be covered by the Turcomans with similar crops. Up to that time they had been in the habit of producing only as much grain as was absolutely necessary for themselves and their horses. Beyond Oum Shali are extensive fields of giant reeds, which are generally about fifteen feet high. Almost at every step pheasants ( karagool ), partridges (, kaklik ), and a singular silvery gray bird like a moorhen, called by the Turcomans hirveltek, sprang up before us. Among these reed growths I had the first opportunity since my arrival in Persia of seeing a wolf. He was feeding upon the carcass of a sheep which had either been killed by A WOLF.— LOST IN THE REEDS. 283 the late storms or which he had himself carried off. His head was buried in its entrails, hut, looking up as I approached, he eyed me savagely, his muzzle smeared with blood. I fired, and apparently touched him, for I could see the fur fly from his back, whereupon he charged me fiercely. My horse trembled with fright, rendering it very difficult to aim. On the second shot the enemy turned tail, and ran to a distance of about a hundred yards, where he seated himself, and, licking his bloody jaws, gazed at me as though he would say, ‘ When you think fit to go, I will resume my meal.’ Noticing that half a dozen pheasants which rose close to us had settled in the reeds some little distance to the right, we pushed our way towards them, finding the utmost difficulty in forcing a passage through the brake. The plumy sum- mits of these reeds far overtopped our heads, even as we sat on horseback, and it was utterly impossible to do more than guess in what direction we were going. We could not dis- cover the pheasants, and, when we tried to return, found that we had lost our way. For fully half an hour we stumbled about, crashing and smashing among the reeds, and at last I began to think seriously of setting fire to them, as the only chance of getting out of the labyrinth in which we were involved. Fortunately, however, we struck upon a narrow boar path, following which we came to a large clearing, in the midst of which was a shallow pool, evidently a gathering place for the boars. From this point paths led in every direction, and, choosing one of them, in twenty . minutes we emerged into a comparatively open space, though far from the road from which we had strayed. As I drew near Kara Suli Tepe, the last mound inter- vening between me and Gumush Tepe, I noticed at least fifty or sixty vultures and eagles at a tremendous altitude, soaring and wheeling above a point close to the mound. A 284 STRANDED FISH. great number of sea-gulls were also flying to and fro. On approaching, the ground seemed covered, in places, with some white material, which at a distance resembled oyster- shells. Running close by Kara Suli Tepe, and emptying itself into the Giurgen, is a second Kara- Su— for the Turcomans seem to give this name to nearly every small stream. Its bed and the banks on either side were completely covered with fish of various kinds, some of them, still alive, floundering and splashing in the little water which lay in pools among the muddy banks. The greater portion, however, were dead, and putrefying in the sun. Within a hundred yards of the bed of the stream these fish were lying three and four deep. Their numbers must have been immense. It was the presence of this food that had attracted all the vultures, eagles, and aquatic birds. It appears that during my absence in Asterabad one of the usual spring overflows of the Giurgen had taken place. The waters had extended into the bed of the Kara-Su, flooding a considerable tract of country on either side, and subsiding as suddenly as they had risen. Hence the stranding of these vast quantities of fish. Several Turcomans, with camels and horses, were carrying away basketfuls of them. They are split open, slightly salted, and dried in the sun. Old Dourdi, as well as everyone else, was surprised to see me back again at Gumush Tepe so soon. I noticed considerable uneasiness on the part of my old host, and was quite at a loss to account for it. Several times he seemed about to communicate something to me, but on each occasion he checked himself, so that I did not press him to tell me what was on his mind. My stay at Gumush Tepe was not protracted — principally because everything seemed stagnant at Tchikislar for the time being, and also because I had no fresh observations to make in the village. I find in my note-book only a few jottings relating to this, my last visit A KURD LOTHARIO. 285 to Gumush Tepe. One is to the effect that the wood- turners who caused the article in process of manufacture to revolve by drawing backwards and forwards a bow the loose string of which was passed once round a wooden cylinder on the axle, directed the chisel partly by grasping it with the great toes of both feet, and partly with the disengaged hand. Another note refers to the new servant whom I hired at the Persian camp. He was by birth a Kurd from Budjnoord, on the Atterek, and a Sunnite Mussulman. Contrary to Mahomedan usage, he wore all his hair, which curled upwards in a heavy roll all round from under the edges of his orthodox Persian hat of black Astrakan wool, and was accurately divided down the centre, for he affected the dress and style of a Teheran dandy. He was about twenty- four years of age, very good looking, and a devoted admirer of the fair sex. He was continually getting me into trouble, for, instead of looking after my horses, he was ever per- ambulating the village, and thrusting himself unhidden into the Turcoman houses wherever he saw a pretty maiden. Over and over again was he chased from the kibitkas for misconducting himself; and once he rushed breathlessly into old Dourdi’s dwelling pursued by an enraged elderly matron who brandished a lighted stick, which she had snatched from the fire for want of a better weapon, and who came to me to make dire complaints about the undue liberties he had been taking with her daughter, and that, too, in the face of everybody. I was advised to keep him at home, or that otherwise he would some fine day have a knife stuck into him. Despairing of obtaining permission to accompany the Russian columns, and tired of the inactive and unprofitable life that I was leading, I determined to stay no longer at Gumush Tepe, but to return to Asterabad, and thence try to make my way along the southern bank of the Giurgen 286 A RUSSIAN THREAT. through the Goklan country as far as the Kopet Dagh Mountains, and to cross them to the Akhal Tekke country. I knew that such a journey would be fraught with the extremest peril, hut I was resolved to risk everything rather than continue to spend my time as I had been, during the preceding five months. I only waited until one of my horses, which had become slightly sore-hacked, could get quite cured, before I put my intention into execution. On the evening previous to the day which I had fixed for my departure old Dourdi took me confiden- tially aside, and disburdened himself of the secret which had been weighing on his mind since my last arrival at the village. He said that the military authorities at Tchikislar had repeatedly made enquiries of Turcomans who had visited the camp as to whether I still remained at Gumush Tepe, and that that same evening a message had been brought to the effect that if I did not at once withdraw from the aoull Cossacks would be sent to bring me a prisoner to Tchikislar. Though this information was subsequently again conveyed to me from another and a very reliable source, I had difficulty in attaching any value to it. Gumush Tepe will, doubtless, sooner or later pass once more into Russian hands, but it would have been a mere piece of foolish impertinence for the Tchikislar military authorities to have sent any message, such as that which I was told had been delivered, to the subject of another Power who was residing within the frontier of a third. The threat may have been employed with an idea of impressing the Turco- mans with a belief in the great power of Russia, even beyond her own borders ; but I am inclined to regard the whole thing as apocryphal, or at most as the outcome of idle vapouring on the part of some subordinate within the Muscovite camp. On the morning of April 20, 1880, at earliest dawn, I DANGERS OF THE ROAD. 287 once more rode out into the plains that separated me from Asterabad. Forty miles are hut little to those who have locomotives to carry them, hut forty miles on a horse carrying at the same time all one’s worldly goods, constitute a much more serious distance, especially when, owing to spring floods, a river of more than twenty feet in depth intervenes. Then there was another difficulty that people elsewhere would scarce think of. Owing to the frequent passage of Russian and Armenian agents over the plain in search of cattle and grain for the camp at Tchikislar, there were many young horsemen from adjacent villages who thought it worth their while to £ take to the road,’ instead of looking after their more legitimate business. Even under ordinary circumstances an inhabitant of these parts would as soon think of going two miles without his sabre and gun as a Londoner of leaving his house without an umbrella ; and then, not only would a man not start on a journey, however short, unarmed, hut he would not go unaccompanied by at least a couple of others. It is odd enough that this terrorism is not wrought by Tekke or Goklan raiders, such as usually carry off the flocks and camels of the villagers, and sometimes themselves into the bargain, but by the inhabitants of the Atterek delta, who have earned for themselves a most unenviable reputation for thievery and brigandage. On the very day I left Gumush Tepe an unfortunate Armenian trader was killed by these people. His body was recovered and brought into Tchikislar. The delta villages have been the head- quarters of the man-stealers, the dealers in kidnapped Persians, and though the presence of the Russian war steamers at Ashurade and on the Caspian generally has put a stop to their former business, the spirit of evil is still strongly rife among them. That their own countrymen, who themselves do not bear an immaculate character, 288 INSURGENT TURCOMANS . should be afraid of them, speaks volumes. I shudder when I think how often I have gone alone among them, and attribute my safety to the unconscious audacity of the pro- ceeding. I had not quite made up my mind whether to proceed direct to Asterabad, or to push on for a couple of days in an easterly direction, to Hadjilar, the point to which the Persian camp had been moved for the purpose of collecting the annual tribute among the Goklan Turcomans of that district. Having some letters to post, and wishing to get them off as soon as possible, I decided on making for Asterabad as the first stage in my journey. It was fortunate I did so, for had I gone eastward I should either have been made a prisoner or killed. During the preceding four years the turbulent Goklan Turcomans had paid no taxes to the Persian Government, and, without being in a state of actual insurrection, simply declined to pay any. Mustapha Khan, the energetic Governor of Asterabad, re- solved that the money should be forthcoming — partly, I dare say, owing to the fact that, more Persico , a tolerably fair per-centage of it would remain in his own hands. He marched with his troops to the spot, and encamped. An interview with the principal Turcoman chiefs was eminently unsatisfactory. The Turcomans withdrew their flocks to a distance, and passed their nights in galloping round the entrenched camp discharging their long muskets at the defenders. In the course of one evening they managed to carry off five horses. Three messengers from Asterabad were intercepted and killed. A state of blockade existed, and only the lucky chance of my having letters to post saved me from the risky adventure of trying to cross the lines. A compromise was afterwards effected, and the active hostility of the nomads ceased for the moment. As I rode out of Gumush Tepe my way lay across a dead level plain, broken only by the long, flat mounds of the line NASCENT VERDURE.— PUTREFYING FISH. 289 of ancient entrenchments known as Alexander’s Wall, and the occasional sail of a Turcoman lugger making its way slowly up the turbid, swollen stream of the Giurgen. The plain is so flat, and the river banks are so sharp-cut and nearly vertical, that as it winds through the Steppe the sails of the river boats seem rising from the Sahara itself. A hundred yards away the ground appears covered with a carpet of emerald green, but beneath one’s horse’s feet, except on very close inspection, nothing but hare, muddy soil is visible. There is, however, a tender springing grass like a green down, which in places is almost grown enough to allow of sheep nibbling at it. A little later in the year this nascent verdure is scorched to death by the fierce sun, which was already hotter than was at all agreeable. As we drew near the bed of the little river running by Kara Suli Tepe, where I had previously seen the immense shoals of stranded fish, a putrescent odour met my nostrils. The stench was overpowering, and reminded me of that of the bodies of decomposing camels, which I have seen sweltering in the summer sun. A few days after I had first seen them the fish had probably become so decomposed as to be con- sidered undesirable even by sea-gulls and vultures, and the bulk of them were still there, rotting in the mud, exhaling a pestilential miasma which it was marvellous did not create disease in its immediate neighbourhood. A little co-opera- tion and industry, on the part of the Turcomans dwelling within a reasonable distance of the spot, would have served to convert this now putrefying mass into a plentiful store of wholesome food. The excess not consumed by themselves could be profitably disposed of to the more inland Turco- mans and to the population of Asterabad and its vicinity. I have already described the road from Gumush Tepe to Asterabad, and have nothing new to say concerning it. I floundered through the slimy black mud of the stream VOL. 1. u 290 A MISTAKE.— THE GIURGEN SWOLLEN. which flows towards the mound of Kara Suli Tepe, and had an odd encounter on the opposite hank. Two Turcomans, one a moullah, or priest, and the other a fisherman, took me and my servant for robbers, and brought us to a halt with their levelled guns until we managed to explain who we were. I must frankly say that if I were taken for a robber, I took my adversary for the same ; and if he had the smallest idea of what a near escape he had of being shot by me, he would feel very thankful. The only new feature of the road was the passage of the river Giurgen, now very much flooded. Until at the very brink of the stream one has no notion 'of its presence; and then a swollen angry tide of seething yellow waters comes suddenly into view, flowing between vertical banks of stiff brownish clay. It is not more than fifty yards wide, and its winding bed is as regular as that of a canal. For half a mile on either side, the rich loamy soil, covered by a sprinkling of bushes, was as thoroughly torn up by the snouts of wild boars as if a steam plough had been at work on it. The number of boars must be enormous. Where they conceal themselves in the daytime is to me a profound mystery, for far and near there is not enough cover to conceal a rat. The same may be said of the jackals. One may traverse the plains for hours without seeing any covers within which these animals could hide themselves during the day ; yet no sooner has the gloaming arrived than they seem to spring up, as if by magic, from the ground ; and their yelping wails may be heard not fifty yards distant from a village within ten miles of which I am certain not one could have been seen an hour previously. I found half a dozen Turcomans, with a heterogeneous collection of sheep and cows, halted on the river brink, making preparations to cross. On the opposite side were the kibitkas of a village, the immediate surroundings of II SWIMMING THE G1URGEN. 291 Geldi Khan, the chief of the district, for he had again changed his position since I last saw it. The passage of the river was characteristic of nomad life. The stream was flowing rapidly — at the rate of six miles an hour, at least. Saddles and horsecloths were taken off, and the animal was conducted to the steep edge of the river, which flowed about eight feet below, and tumbled in. He turned a couple of times, breasting the current, and then in a very business- like manner struck out for the opposite shore. It was evident that all the animals were accustomed to this method of fording, for the cows and sheep exhibited not the least alarm on being brought to the river’s edge. All went over in gallant style. The choice of the point for crossing showed an eminently practical spirit. It was selected where the river made an elbow towards us. As a con- sequence the shore on our side, owing to the current impinging against it, was vertical — sometimes almost over- hanging. This didn’t matter, because the animals were thrown into the water. On the opposite shore, on account of the bend of the river, the ground shelved, and gave an easy access for landing. One of my horses, a large grey Caucasian animal, seemed to understand the whole pro- ceeding. He went into the river of his own accord, and swam across. The other, bred on the Khirgese steppes, had probably never seen so much water before in his life ; and once in the current seemed sadly at a loss what to do. Half a dozen times he tried to clamber up the steep slope whence he had been thrown in, and finding this vain, went into the midst of the river. The current was so strong that I greatly feared he would be swept away ; but when he at last espied his comrade on the opposite bank, he went across — swimming as quickly as a man could walk. For the saddles, baggage, and men there was a small taimul. It was only large enough to carry the boatman and another 292 PROFUSE HOSPITALITY. person. The craft was so frail, and rocked so to and fro in the current, that before embarking I took the precaution of doffing my long boots and sword-belt for fear of an accident in the middle of the passage. The horses and other animals seemed to take to the water with a certain amount of avidity, owing to this being the season for shedding their coats — the advent of summer. My Khirgese horse, who usually looked more like a bear than any other animal I know of, had the general appearance of a mangy goat, for his hair was falling off in patches. I know nothing stranger than the profuse hospitality with which these Turcoman nomads will receive in their kibitka the traveller whom they would plunder with the greatest pleasure five hundred yards away. I had scarcely clambered up the steep bank when I was literally seized upon, brought to the Khan’s house, and forced to swallow an amount of rice, boiled with olive oil from Khiva, which I believe remained in my stomach for forty-eight hours. When I succeeded in making these good people understand that after all one’s stomach has limits, the enormous dish was taken away ; and in a few minutes it was announced that my escort was waiting. I found ten horsemen drawn up before the door. They looked, as far as the men, and especially their hats, were concerned, like so many of the Scots Greys ; only their horses were superior to those of that regiment. These men were supposed to see me safely to Asterabad. As a French writer says, ‘ It was an ingenious manner of avoiding meeting brigands on the road by taking them with you.’ In fact, the only possible danger I could run in my twenty-five miles’ ride to the town was the risk of meeting the good people who escorted me. Our way lay close to the ruins of Mehemet Giurgen Kala. Here and there amid the fresh green surface were dark patches where lay the bones of fifty or sixty sheep and lambs, the victims VICTIMS OF THE TENKIS. — A NEW DEPARTURE. 293 of the storms. The scene forcibly recalled to my mind battle-fields I had seen elsewhere in Asia, when jackal and wolf had done their work. Till I reached the banks of the Kara-Su river the bones formed one extensive memento mori over the plain. Remarking these serious effects of winter storms, it has more than once struck me that it is odd these Turcomans seem to learn but little from experience. Year after year, during succeeding ages, the snow-fraught tenkis sweeps over the Steppes, bringing death in its train. Where ancient earthworks exist they are taken advantage of as shelter ; but it never enters into the heads of the shepherds to construct anything similar. Their general action is quite in consonance with their wretched little conical heads, in which firmness and ferocity are the dominating organs. A ride entirely devoid of any incident of interest brought me to the northern gate of Asterabad. I had a long talk with Mr. Churchill about my proposed ride into the Akhal Tekke country ; I also learned that General Skobeleff was on his way, if he had not already arrived, to take command of the Trans-Caspian expedition. After mature deliberation I resolved to proceed to Teheran, and there solicit the friendly offices of Mr. Zinovieff, the Russian Minister at that capital, believing that he might be able to procure for me the permission to accompany the Russian columns which had been denied to my own direct application. I had met this gentleman at Krasnavodsk, at the house of General Lomakin, and from his great courtesy on that occasion I entertained hopes that he would interest himself in my be- half. Mr. Churchill was about to leave for Baku, en route for Palermo, to which Consulate he had just been appointed, and as he intended journeying via Resht, through which town lay my easiest and most expeditious route to Teheran, I resolved to accompany him. 294 AROUND ASTERAEAD. CHAPTEK XVII. ASTERABAD TO ENZELI. Environs of Asterabad — Green corn fodder — Pruning corn crops — Earthquake shock — Plan of journey — My travelling companions — Jungle road — Den- golan — Sleeping sheds — Forest growth — Wild animals — Karaoul Hanes — A lonely grave — Gez — Stuck in a quagmire — Kenar Gez — Mercurius and Cavcass Company — Landing accommodation — Ashurade — Eussian and Persian policy -Absurd building restrictions — M. Yussuf — White truffles — Cotton — Loups and box-wood — On board the ‘ Cesarewitch ’ — Fog off Tchikislar — Commissariat swindling — Meshed-i-Ser — Cavalry at sea — • Shah’s summer palace at Enzeli — Persian launches — Mr. Churchill’s departure — The ‘ Cesarewitch ’ mail steamer — Astatki ship furnace. Around Asterabad the country was deliciously green, and the woods were clothed in their vernal dress. I have seldom looked over a more beautiful and luxuriant prospect than that to be seen from the ramparts of the old Persian city at this season. At all times, indeed, the immediate environs of the town are very fertile and beautiful; the never- failing water supply and the generous heat of the climate would scarcely allow them to be otherwise. Still, with the exception of the woods, the surrounding verdure is, to a great extent at least, the result of human labour, the ground never appearing to produce grass unless it be regularly sown, as I discovered when I gave directions for my horses to be taken outside the walls of Asterabad in order that they might pick up whatever fresh spring grass they could find in the fosses of the ramparts and in shady jungle patches. My servant came back with the story that he had been all round the walls without being able to GREEN CORN FODDER. 295 find any grass whatever. At this I became very vexed, thinking that he was telling falsehoods to avoid the trouble of watching the horses while they grazed, and I determined to test the truth of his statements with my own eyes. In the early spring, when the horses are changing their winter coats, fresh green fodder is absolutely necessary in order to keep them from getting out of condition. I not only went round the walls, but far and near on every side. The road- sides, banks, and hollows looked fresh and green enough, but it was with dandelion, crowsfoot, and a thousand other herbs — in fact, anything but grass, of which I could not discover a single blade anywhere except in the enclosed meadows. The green corn, extending in vast fields for miles round, was at least two feet high, and I was much surprised to see men busily engaged with sickles in cutting it down in this state, and conveying it on the backs of camels and horses to the town. I was informed that it was used as fodder for horses, in the same way as was the grass in other countries and climes. Some people at this season send their horses down to the plains beyond the Kara-Su, leaving them during the spring in the care of the Turcomans, to get fat upon the luxuriant grass of the inter-fluvial plain. This, however, is a risky proceeding, owing to the thievish and predatory habits of the tribes ; I, at least, should not care to entrust an animal of any value to them. As there are many such at Asterabad, the owners have recourse to green corn while still in the blade. I asked whether this premature cutting down of the stalk did not destroy its power of producing grain later, and learned that quite the contrary resulted, and that after this kind of pruning it grows up more vigorously. In this way the agriculturists manage to get considerable value out of then- land. They have two crops of grain in the year, the fields also doing duty in the spring as luxuriant meadows. 296 EXPERIMENTS IN CORN-GROWING. A propos of this reaping of corn-stalks before they come into ear, Mr. Churchill told me that when on a visit to a convent at Spalatro, on the Dalmatian coast, he w&s shown by one of the monks some corn-plants which he was in- formed had produced six thousand grains for each one sown. This was the result of an agricultural experiment. The corn was sown in October, and, when well above ground, was kept cut down until spring. It was then allowed to grow up, with the result which I have stated. Whether the grains produced in this manner were equal in size and quality to those which would have resulted had the plant been allowed to pursue its natural growth, I was not able to ascertain. Just before quitting Asterabad we had a slight earth- quake shock. Such occurrences are very common in these regions. I was standing in the court-yard of the consulate, talking with one of Mr. Churchill’s sons. The courtyard was planted with orange trees, and had a large water-tank in its centre. The sun was shining hotly, and not a breath disturbed the air. The heat was rather oppressive. All at once was heard a sound as of the rushing of a mighty blast. The branches of the orange trees waved, and con- centric circles spread themselves over the surface of the water in the reservoir, indicating a vibration of the earth. At the same time we felt the ground creep, as it were, be- neath our feet. This was on April 24. Two months pre- viously, at Gumush Tepe, I had experienced a similar shock. I was sitting upon my carpet, within the kibitka ; a heavy murmuring sound, which I took to be an approach- ing tenkis , reached my ears, and at the same time I felt the earth below my carpet vibrate. Several articles in the kibitka fell to the ground, and old Dourdi’s wife, who was standing at the entrance, saved herself from falling by grasping the door-post. The vibration was not strong PLANS POP THE FUTURE. 297 enough to upset her, but she was greatly disconcerted by the phenomenon, of which the Turcomans seemed to have a superstitious dread. When these shocks occur, the neighbouring mountain of Ak-Batlaouk, the mud volcano north of Tchikislar, usually exhibits signs of increased activity. It was decided that we should leave Asterabad, en route for Gez, on the following day but one, and I made my final preparations for departure. My plans were to leave my horses and principal effects at Asterabad, in charge of my servant, and under the superintendence of Mr. Churchill’s mirza — who, pending the arrival of the new consul, would remain at the Consulate and act ad interim as British agent — and then proceed to Teheran, there to try once more to obtain permission to accompany the Bussian column. If this permission should be granted, my shortest way back to Tchikislar would be through Asterabad. Should I fail, my mind was made up, be the danger what it might, to penetrate to the Akhal Tekke country, or, should the Russians have arrived there before me, to Merv itself. In this event it was my intention to take post-horses to Shahrood, a town on the postal road to Meshed, and about two hundred and fifty miles distant from Teheran. There I should be joined by my horses and servant, and go on by whichever route circumstances should render most expedient. It was mid-day on April 26, 1880, as Mr. Churchill and family and myself, with our following, sallied from the western gate of Asterabad en route for Kenar Gez, the so-called port of Asterabad. Our cavalcade was a tolerably numerous one. There were Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, seated in kedjaves, or camel baskets, balanced on opposite sides of a stout mule, accompanied by the mirza and four servants of the household, two of whom carried the children seated 298 LEAVING ASTERABAD.—AN ANCIENT ROAD. before them on horseback. Then came several mules laden with baggage, and the procession was wound up by Mr. Harry Churchill, the consul's eldest son, myself, and my new Turkish servant Mehemet, for I had been obliged to dispense with the amorous Kurd, who was of no manner of service to me. In this guise we marched out of Astera- bad, and, following a tolerably perfect portion of Shah Abass’ causeway, approached the border of the forest which stretched between us and the Caspian. Considering that Gez is the port of Asterabad, and one of the only three seaports possessed by Persia on the Caspian littoral, the state of the road leading to it from the latter town is surprisingly bad, even for this country. The first mile lay through a pomegranate jungle, and over broken, stony ground, gashed and torn by torrents. There is, strictly speaking, no road, and the traveller has the choice of a hundred footpaths, among which he is con- tinually losing his way. Now and then we followed the track of Shah Abass’ causeway. This was once a much frequented highway, but for the last hundred years has been little used. It consisted of a roadway of about ten feet in width, paved with roughly hewn stones of from twelve to fifteen inches in diameter. These stones are now tossed about in the wildest confusion, and constitute most disagreeable obstacles in the paths of horses. At intervals the causeway disappears in the midst of dense growths of brushwood and jungle, and the traveller is forced to make a detour by one of the by-paths, with its slimy yellow mud and disagreeable thorn bushes on either side, which tear his clothes to tatters. After some hours’ weary creeping over this kind of ground, now and then coming to a full stop to hold a consultation as to the best way of crossing some deep, water-worn gully, with precipitous, boulder-strewn sides, and crossed by foot passengers by means of a shaky DENGOLAN— THROUGH THE FOREST. 299 construction of narrow planks upon which we did not dare trust our horses, we arrived at the village of Dengolan. It is, as villages generally are in these parts, a collec- tion of a few dozens of houses of unbaked brick, and with high-pitched roofs with reed thatching, in connection with each of which is a platform, lifted on four poles to a height of twenty feet or thereabouts, and covered with a pointed thatch roof. On these raised stages the inhabitants sleep during the sultry weather. The entire village, inhabited solely by Persians, is surrounded by a high mud wall, flanked by towers as a defence against the forays of the neighbouring Turcomans. We were received by the head man of the village, who placed his own house at our dis- posal, and as Mr. Churchill’s delicate state of health did not allow of his making long journeys, especially under circumstances involving such a scarcity of travelling con- veniences, we resolved to pass the night at Dengolan. At sunrise we were again in the saddle, as we wished to reach Gez in time for the mail steamer which it was expected would anchor there the same evening. Westward of Dengolan the road approaches the slopes of the Elburz mountains, and passes through a magnificent forest reaching to within a short distance of the Caspian shore. The road through this forest is considerably better than that across the stony jungle on the side nearest Asterabad, though there are occasional formidable ravines to be scrambled through, and deep rapid torrents to be passed on rickety bridges consisting of two or three trunks covered by planks, often in a very rotten condition. The forest is composed of sycamore, plantain, walnut, and box- wood trees, the three former often of gigantic proportions, so close together, and with interspaces so filled up with thorn bushes and creepers, as to render it impossible to penetrate even a few yards from the roadway. Leopards, joo KARAOUL HANES.— CAUGHT IN A SWAMP. lynxes, wolves, and wild boars abound, and tigers of con- siderable size have been killed in this forest. It terminates quite suddenly at the banks of the Kara-Su river, which separates it from the plains reaching away northward to the river Giurgen. At long intervals along the way are Karaoul hanes, or police stations, each occupied by half a dozen policemen, armed with rifles. These posts are necessary to guarantee the road against the depredations of the Turcomans of the neighbouring plains, who occa- sionally lay ambuscades in the forest for passing mule and camel trains. Not far from one of these posts I noticed alongside the road the railed-in grave of a merchant killed but a short time previously by the Turcomans. Within a couple of miles of the coast the village of Gez is met with ; that is, the old one, for the maritime village is situated on the coast itself. It is a straggling place, composed of about a hundred mud houses, a few of which are shops kept by Arme- nians. Between this place and the sea the forest dwindles again into jungle, and the ground becomes marshy and difficult to traverse. When quite close to the shore, and just about entering the little maritime village, my horse suddenly sank up to his girths in a quagmire of black, slimy, stinking mud, the surface of which had the appear- ance of solid ground. Scrambling off the animal’s back, I suddenly found myself almost equally deeply embedded in the mud. Had it not been for the timely arrival of four Russian sailors I should probably have remained with my horse in a very uncomfortable predicament for an indefinite length of time, for every attempt to extricate myself or the animal only involved both of us more hopelessly in the swamp. It was only by means of broad planks and a large door placed on the surface of the quagmire that we were finally relieved from our dis- agreeable plight. A laden camel or mule train becoming GEZ, THE PORT OF ASTERABAD. 301 involved in this swamp at night would in all probability be totally lost. The maritime village of Gez is a very inconsiderable place indeed. There are about a dozen small wooden houses in all ; and a little way off is a pretty extensive caravanserai built by the Persian Government. This is the only brick building in the place, the others being con- structed, in the most flimsy manner, of slight planking. They are almost entirely occupied by Armenian shopkeepers, whose miserable little booths are exactly in the style of those seen in Persian bazaars. There are but two or three con- siderable merchants — all Armenians. There is also an office of the Mercurius and davcass Steamship Company, whose vessels touch at this place once a week — or are supposed to do so. A miserable wooden jetty, about a hundred yards long, running out from the shore, constitutes the sole landing accommodation. This landing stage is but five feet wide, supported on poles four inches in diameter, and constructed of weak planks, many so loosely fastened as to render walking over them dangerous. Such is the place which goes by the high-sounding appellation of the ‘ port of Asterabad,’ an odd name enough, as it is twenty- five miles from the town in question. I have no doubt but that, in the future, Gez is destined to become a place of con- siderable importance, when, as it inevitably will, it changes owners, and passes into Russian hands, along with, perhaps, the town of Asterabad itself. The possibility and probability of this change are prominently before the eyes of the Persian Government, and have done much to hinder the natural development of the place. About fifteen miles away to the north-westward is the Russian naval station of Ashurade, faintly visible from the mainland. It was formerly connected with the sand spit which encloses the outer margin of the bay of the same name ; and a considerable number of 302 THE FUTURE OF GEZ. houses, the quarters provided for the small garrison, stood upon it. It was rather summarily occupied by the Russians, and a station was formed, to which resorted the flotilla of the Caspian charged with the suppression of the Turcoman slave trade. The little space thus utilised has been much diminished during past years by the action of waves and currents, and in a short time will become entirely untenable, many houses having been lately abandoned owing to the encroachments of the sea. Another naval station will ere long be necessary, and Gez stands temptingly in the way. As its occupation would, like that of Ashurade, be set forth as being purely in the interest of Persia, and with a view of protecting her subjects along the South Caspian coast against the incursions of Turcoman pirates and man- stealers, the Shah’s Government could hardly with a good grace offer any strenuous opposition to its acquisition by Russia, especially if offers were made for its purchase. Still, the idea of any further advance of Russia in that direction is regarded by the Persian Government with extreme disfavour, and everything that can be done in the way of discouraging the idea of the transference of the naval station to Gez is carefully and sedulously carried out. As I have already mentioned, the population of the place is almost entirely Armenian, and among them are a few enterprising merchants who, if allowed, would speedily, for the sake of their cotton, silk, and boxwood traffic, do much to develop the place and improve it as a commercial emporium. To effect this improvement would, however, render the town the more tempting to Russian acquisitive- ness, and strict orders have been issued by the Persian authorities, the result of which is an effectual check to all advance and improvement. Not only is the road to Aster a bad left in the state which I have described, and which, one would naturally suppose, it would be to the advantage of A MISTAKEN POLICY. 303 the Government, in the interests of the commerce of the country, to improve, hut the inhabitants of Gez have been formally forbidden to erect stone or brick buildings of any description, on the rather far-fetched plea that such con- structions might be made capable of defence, and employed in resistance of the Government. This argument, however, could not be urged against the erection of a proper stone jetty, an undertaking which M. Yussuf, a rich Armenian merchant of the place, and at whose house Mr. Churchill and myself were hospitably entertained, offered to carry out at his own expense, with the idea of facilitating the ship- ment of his merchandise. His offer was refused, and a veto was put upon any effort to better the present ridiculously inadequate accommodation. As a consequence, notwith- standing the very brisk traffic of Gez, it remains the same wretched little collection of wooden shanties that it has been for many years. One would have imagined that the reverse of this policy on the part of the Persian Government would have been adopted, and that by developing the port to its utmost capabilities, increasing the population, and improv- ing its communications with the interior of the country, they would have sought indisputably to demonstrate its connection with the rest of the kingdom. Keeping the country a desert, and limiting Gez to its present insignifi- cant condition, as well as isolating it as much as possible from Asterabad, would seem to most people eminently adapted to excuse even a summary occupation by Russia for a superficially plausible object. Following the same line of policy, the Persian Government refused for many years to permit the construction of a road from the port of Resht (Enzeli) in the direction of the capital, lest in the event of hostilities the march of Russian troops to Teheran might be facilitated. At M. Yussuf s house, where Mr. Churchill and family 304 WHITE TRUFFLES.— LOUP S. were most courteously received and hospitably entertained, we had an opportunity of tasting the white truffles for which the south-eastern Caspian coast is celebrated. These delicacies, which elsewhere are served out but occasionally and with a very sparing hand, were, at M. Yussuf s table, laid before us in large dishes well filled. For my own part, though I am very fond of truffles, I took but sparingly of them on this occasion, as I could not stomach the high flavouring of onion and garlic which an Armenian cook thought fit to add. The cotton trade of Gez is very brisk. The rickety pier groaned beneath the weight of bales which were being constantly shipped on board luggers and schooners for transport to Baku and Astrakan ; and each of the Caspian steamers calling at the place is always sure of a cargo of this material alone. It is brought from different parts of the interior ; especially from Meshed and the country lying to its south and east, camels and occasionally mules being used for its carriage. Another considerable article of commerce at Gez consists of loups, the large wart-like ex- crescences which occur on the trunk of the walnut, and which are exported to Europe, principally to Vienna and Paris, for the purpose of being sawn up into veneer sheets wherewith to impart the beautifully corrugated walnut grain to articles of furniture made of cheaper material. These loups, when of good quality and of large size (three to four feet in diameter) fetch fabulous prices ; often selling for upwards of forty or fifty pounds sterling. A very large trade in boxwood, too, is carried on, immense quantities being cut on the mountain slopes, and exported to every part of the world. It was only on the second day after my arrival at Gez that I was able to go on board the mail steamer, which was as usual behind time, with a view of proceeding to Resht, GEZ TO TCHIKISLAR.—BAD MANAGEMENT. 305 en route for Teheran. Though the passengers were all on board before sunset on the evening of April BO, it was only at nine o’clock next morning that we started, the delay being caused by the shipment of a large quantity of Mazan- deran cotton. We had on board a number of Russian officers belonging to the paymaster’s department, and bound for Tchikislar in charge of a sum of one million of roubles, intended principally for the purchase of camels for the transport service. From Gez to Tchikislar is about five hours’ fast steaming. A little before midday a dense mist shut out all sight of land, and at two o’clock, deeming from calculation and soundings that we were off our destination, we cast anchor. All day long the fog continued too dense to allow of our seeing the shore, and it was only after midnight that the lights of Tchikislar became visible, when we ran in for about five miles to the usual anchoring ground. As these fogs happened very frequently, and communication with the camp was a matter of daily recurrence, it seemed incredible that the mail steamers should be unprovided with guns or other means of signalling their presence. Had we possessed any such appliances, a boat or launch might easily have been summoned to pilot us, and thereby obviate the wasting of twenty hours. The Russian officers went on shore at daybreak, but, owing to the delay occasioned by landing stores and taking in passengers and goods, it was half-past eleven in the morning before we weighed anchor. As seen from the steamer, the camp presented its usual appearance, little change being noticeable save that a con- siderable number of permanent wooden buildings had been erected. Vast heaps of corn sacks were to be seen ranged in line behind the camp, and near them was stacked an enormous quantity of hay. A whole fleet of Turcoman luggers were discharging their cargoes of this commodity, x VOL. 1. 306 EMBEZZLEMENT OF STORES.— MESHED-I-SER. and large numbers were coming from the direction of Gumush Tepe, charged to the water’s edge with the same material. While we were taking in passengers and cargo from the camp I noticed that, notwithstanding the orders of the Shah, and the measures adopted for preventing food supplies from leaving Persia for the Eussian camp, these supplies still continued, and that, too, to such an extent as to create a redundancy of stores at Tchikislar. Some Armenian dealers brought off in luggers to the steamer over one hundred and fifty sheep, and some two hundred sacks of corn, all destined for Baku, where, I was informed, both sheep and corn could be disposed of at a very large profit ; and probably for reshipment to Tchikislar once more. This will give a fair idea of the manner in which things were managed in the camp, when dealers were permitted to procure and send off stores which the authorities were straining every nerve to accumulate there. At length we started towards Gez, where there was still more cargo to be taken in, and it was half-past seven in the evening ere we stood across the bay to Ashurade, for the purpose of shipping the mails. At that hour it was too late to continue the voyage, and we were obliged to anchor off the naval station till next morning, the extreme shallowness of the water, and the tortuous nature of the navigable channel, rendering it impossible to get out in the dark. At four o’clock next morning we started, halting again at Meshed-i-Ser, a small maritime village, eight hours’ steaming from Ashurade, on the south Caspian shore, where a consignment of cotton bales detained us until four in the afternoon. From this village to Enzeli is a run of seventeen hours. With the morning light came another dense fog, and when we were supposed to be in the neighbourhood of Enzeli we were forced to lie to, as at Tchikislar, waiting for the mist to GEZ TO ENZELL 307 clear off. This only took place towards half-past two in the afternoon, when we found that we were in our proper anchoring ground, little more than a mile off shore. Had the fog lasted, as it often does, a couple of days, we should have been obliged to lie helplessly where we were, or to go on to Baku, and return by the next steamer. As it was, the delay in arriving at Enzeli from Gez was perfectly prepos- terous, especially for a mail steamer, and the swiftest vessel on the Caspian. From Gez to Enzeli is only a run of twenty-four hours, while we took over three days and a half ! Notwithstanding a long experience of the Caspian, and ample means of every kind, not the smallest measure has been adopted to obviate the delays caused by fogs ; and in one instance I have known the horses of a cavalry regi- ment, on board a transport thus detained off Tchikislar, reduced almost to starvation for want of forage, it being ultimately found necessary to feed them with biscuit brought for the troops. The Russian authorities were laying up ample provision stores at Tchikislar before allowing the expedition to march, for, between fogs and sudden storms, it is quite possible for the communications with the camp to be interrupted for many days, and the landing of provisions rendered impossible. When the mist cleared away, the low-lying coast was distinctly visible to right and left. Prominent among the other objects was a queer-looking octagonal tower, with pointed roof, standing close to the water’s edge, and which, I was informed, was an occasional summer residence of the Shah. Our steamer was surrounded by a multitude of strange high-pooped launches of unpainted wood, manned by a most piratical-looking, noisy set of men, and rowed with extreme 1 / lengthy oars of singular form. Each oar consisted of a pole some nine feet long, having attached to its extremity a flat piece of wood in the shape x 2 308 MR. CHURCHILL.— MR. VINE. of the ace of spades, giving the entire instrument the appearance of a great wooden shovel. The steamer (the ‘ Cesarewitch ’) started in half an hour for Lenkoran and Baku, with Mr. Churchill on board. I take this opportunity of acknowledging the unvarying kind- ness and hospitality which on many occasions I received a't his hands and those of his amiable family, and to thank him for the invaluable assistance he has ever given me in for- warding my letters and telegrams to Europe from localities in which without his assistance I should have found it difficult indeed to maintain my communications with that continent. The ‘ Cesarewitch ’ is an English-built steamer, and the swiftest on the Caspian, being only surpassed in speed by the * Nasr Eddin Shah ’ war steamer. To convey it from the Baltic to the Caspian it was necessary that it should traverse the whole of the Neva Ship Canal, and afterwards descend the Volga to Astrakan. On the Neva Canal are fifty- four locks, and the ‘ Cesarewitch’s ’ length was too great to allow of her entering them. Her present chief engineer, Mr. Vine, an Englishman, cut her into two pieces amid- ships, and, filling up the open extremities with iron bulk- heads, floated her through the canal. At Astrakan the same gentleman put her together again, and has remained ever since in charge of her machinery. Her boilers are heated by petroleum refuse instead of coal, a system which effects an enormous saving of expense and labour, the heating apparatus being as thoroughly under control as a gas jet, and requiring but one man to manipulate it. It consists of two tubes, each about an inch in diameter, terminating at the same point in a small oblong brass box. Through one of these tubes the black residual naphtha (astatki) drops slowly, being blown into spray by a jet of steam from the boiler, conveyed through the second tube. NEW HEATING APPARATUS , 309 This spray, when ignited, forms a great sheet of flame, which is projected into the hollow of the boiler. It has the immense advantage of requiring no stoking, as no ashes are produced ; and by turning down the flame to the desired degree, the steam can always he kept up to the pressure required for immediate starting without the tedious and more or less wasteful process of ‘ banking ’ the fires. An arrangement like this is invaluable for cruisers lying off an enemy’s port, and requiring to hold their steam in readiness. It is intended to apply the same system of heating to the locomotives on the Tiflis-Baku railway, when that line is completed ; and it will doubtless play an important part in the steam communications destined at no distant period to traverse the steppes to Khiva and Samarcand. 3io DISEMBA RKING SCENE . CHAPTER XVIII. ENZELI TO RESHT. Landing at Enzeli — The Shah’s yacht — A naval salute — Persian flag on the Caspian — Armenian traders — Articles of export — Dried fish — Shah’s lodge — Across the Moredab — A tattered sail — Piri-Bazaar river — Pishing weir — Road to Resht — Former dread of Russians — Tilimbars — Pebrine and jlacheric diseases — Tobacco versus silk — Resht — Novel mode of torture — Retribution. The passenger going ashore at Enzeli ceases for the moment to have any will of his own. The steamer is sur- rounded by great Persian launches, ten at least to every one person desiring to land. Some of the crew of each launch board the mail packet. What follows after your statement of intention to go to Enzeli is an illustration of the law of natural selection. A ‘ free fight ’ ensues, during which the strongest succeed in getting nearest to your person and effects. The Prophet Ali and the twelve holy Imams are called upon in fervent tones to bear witness to the iniquity of the man who has laid hold of your saddle-bags, by the others who have been unsuccessful in trying to do the same. Yells and threats are interchanged, and the traveller is ultimately hustled along the deck and over the side into one of the high-prowed launches, to reach which he has had perhaps to skip over a dozen others, springing from gunwale to gunwale as they toss and heave and bump together in the long Caspian swell. Amidst cries and execrations we force our way through the press of boats, and then the crew, raising a loud shout of 4 Allah, Mahomet THE SHAHS YACHT.-AN ANECDOTE. 31 1 ya Ali ! ’ bend to their odd-looking oars, and we sweep away to the southward, skirting the low-lying wooded shore. Entering the mouth of the Moredab, an extensive backwater into which fall the Piri Bazaar river and other streams, we come alongside the fairly constructed quay, where some scores of coasting vessels and two small trading steamers are lying in company with the only public vessel owned by Persia on the Caspian waters, the Shah’s yacht. This, which is about the size of an ordinary Thames steamer, is painted of a dirty whity-yellow colour, with some ill-painted tawdry decorations about the stern, and crude gilding at the bow. The ensign staff aft is badly painted with helical stripes, so as exactly to resemble a barber’s pole. The fittings of the little deck saloon are poor, and _ in the last state of dilapidation. Never have I seen so shabby a royal yacht. I have been told that its commander holds the rank of admiral. According to the terms of a treaty between Persia and Russia, the first-named Power is not allowed to hoist her flag on the Caspian waters. On one occasion, the Persian Admiral found it necessary to go with his flag- ship to Baku to have some repairs of the machinery effected. Forgetful of the provisions of the treaty, or perhaps thinking that an exception must necessarily be made in the case of the Shah’s yacht, he had the ‘ Lion and Sun ’ standard floating at the peak as he came in sight of Baku. A cannon was discharged from a Russian battery — a blank charge of course. ‘ Ha,’ said the Admiral to himself, ‘ I see they know who is on board, and pay the proper tribute of respect.’ Under this agreeable delusion he held on his way towards the harbour. Bang, came another blank shot. Further self-gratulation on the part of the Admiral. After a couple of minutes a fresh smoke cloud burst from the embrasures ; but this time, a round shot whistled across the yacht’s fore-foot. There was no 312 ENZELL— TRADE.— FISH-DR YING. mistaking the nature of the cannon shots after that. They were fired in warning ; and so, at the third and shotted discharge, the Persian flag was hurriedly lowered. This regulation, which forbids the hoisting of the ‘ Lion and Sun ’ standard on the Caspian, is very humiliating to Persia, and unfair to the last degree, for she possesses three ports along its southern shores — Gez, Meshed-i-Ser, and Enzeli. Enzeli is but a very inconsiderable place, owing what- ever importance it possesses to being a station where the productions of Mazanderan are shipped for other Caspian ports. The traders are principally Armenians, who reside together in a large square termed the Irmeni Caravenserai. Here, at all hours of the day, hemp, silk, cotton, tobacco, and grebe skins are to be seen. The traffic in this latter article is very considerable, large quantities being exported annually to Europe for the manufacture of ladies’ muffs, head-dresses, and other female attire. They are bought at Enzeli for a franc apiece, and bring, I am told, from three to four in the European markets. Not far from the mouth of the Moredab, on its eastern shore, is an extensive fishing establishment, the property of a rich Armenian merchant. Scores of fishing boats were at anchor discharging their cargoes of sefid mahee (the Caspian carp) at the landing-stage. Eleven hundred men were engaged in fishing, cleaning the fish, and opening, salting, and drying them. The products of this fishery are exported in immense quantities to Russia, and also despatched to the interior of Persia, where they form an important part of the dietary of the poorer classes. A little farther to the north of this fishing station is a dis- mantled battery, the guns which formerly armed it now lying on the ground a little way to the rear. The Shah’s palace, situated on the western shore of the entrance to the Moredab, is a singular-looking edifice. It THE SHAHS SUMMER PALACE. 313 consists of an octagonal tower, apparently over sixty feet in height, about thirty in diameter, and crowned by a flattened conical roof of red tiles. Inclusive of the ground floor there are five stories, each surrounded by an exterior verandah- covered balcony. The upper story, which is the loftiest and most elaborately decorated of all, is that used by the Shah, and commands an extensive view over the neigh- bourhood. I am told that he considers this view equal, if not of superior beauty, to any which he has seen in Europe, notwithstanding the fact that it consists solely of an un- broken prospect of fen and marsh, and the uninteresting shore and leaden grey of the Caspian waters. The balcony and verandah of the royal chamber are decorated with white plaster pillars and arches, gaudily painted, and set with glittering surfaces of looking glass. The next story under it, intended for the accommodation of the Shah’s immediate suite, is also gaudily decorated, but with less of the looking-glass, the use of this latter being apparently a royal prerogative. Each succeeding lower story is less and less brilliantly painted, the ground-floor being very shabby indeed. Its verandah has rude wooden pillars coarsely daubed with red paint, and the walls are painted with exceedingly primitive attempts at representing modern Persian soldiers. The palace stands in a garden of about an acre in extent. It is simply a grass-grown expanse planted with orange trees, and here and there a rose-bush running wild. To protect the decoration against the deleterious effects of the moist winds blowing over the Caspian, the building is almost entirely wrapped up in bass matting, portions of its southern side only being visible. A short way off are the remains of an extensive convent of dervishes, now in ruins. It is of red brick, and the massive tower which served as a minaret is now utilised as a lighthouse. It was three o’clock in the afternoon when, in company 314 ACROSS THE MOREDAB. with two others, an English engineer and an Armenian of the same profession, both proceeding to Teheran, Mr. Harry Churchill, the gholam, and myself, went on board a large launch which was to convey us across the Moredab, and up the Piri-Bazaar river. For some time we rowed between the extremities of wooded land spits jutting out into the channel leading to the open water. Then we rowed out into the wide expanse of the Moredab itself. The name signifies ‘ dead water,’ and a drearier expanse of slumbering surface it would he hard to meet with. Its shores are thickly grown with giant reeds which reach far out into the shallow waters. Islands, reed-grown too, are met with, the ground raised but a few inches above the surround- ing surface. It is only at this point and at a few places between it and Gez that Moore’s epithet of ‘ the Caspian’s reedy hanks ’ at all holds good ; for the northern, western, and eastern shores are remarkably hare. The Moredab at the point where we crossed it must be nigh twelve miles wide. Its length from east to west is considerably greater. It is very shallow, and, even at the deepest por- tions, it was possible to reach bottom with one of the queer long shovel-shaped oars with which our launch was pro- pelled. Some way out from shore a light breeze sprang up ; a mast was stepped, and a sail of surprisingly large proportions hoisted. It seemed, in view of its tattered con- dition, to have been through a severe naval engagement. There was scarce a square foot of it which was not perfor- ated with holes, some of them as large as if made by a twenty-four pounder shot. It seemed wonderful how it held together, much more how it stood the pressure of the breeze. Approaching the southern shores of the lagoon, the reed brakes became more extensive, and the reedy islands larger and more numerous, in fact, separated from each other PIRI-BA ZA A R RIVER. 315 only by narrow winding canals or breadths of half- inundated marshy ground forming the delta of the Piri-Bazaar river, which we were now entering. Far away to the westward, immense flocks of water-fowl covered the waters or hung above them, wheeling and shifting like a storm- driven cloud. Our boat glided on amid the reedy solitudes, where the silence was broken only by the plashing of the oars, the shrill cry of some startled sea bird, or the scream of the fish-hawk. Then we entered the narrow channel of the river, varying in breadth from fifteen to twenty paces, the banks thickly covered with jungle and forest growth. The surface of the water was thickly strewn with the inflated swimming bladders of fish, coming from the curing establishment higher up the river. Large numbers of water snakes, too, were to be seen gliding by our boat. Great black ‘ snaggs ’ stuck out from the water like marine monsters watching for their prey, and water-logged tree trunks clung among the roots projecting into the sluggish stream. Once we were well within the regular river channel, the crew, with the excep- tion of one who remained to steer, got out on the right bank, where a narrow pathway ran close to the edge of the water, just inside the tall bushes fringing it. A towing rope was fastened to the top of the mast, and the boat was thus drawn along, the five men in Indian file proceeding at a run. The rope was made fast to the top of the mast, so as to carry it clear of the bushes. Occasionally we met other boats similarly dragged along and proceeding in an opposite direction to ours, the towers following the same path. The towing-rope of the boat next the bank was slackened, and that of the one passing outside was jerked over the top of the mast of the first with a movement like that of a child’s skipping-rope. It was six in the afternoon when we reached Piri-Bazaar (the old man’s bazaar), the farthest point southward to which 316 STURGEONS AND CA VI ARE— ROAD TO RESHT. boats can go, as there is a fishing weir drawn across the stream at this point. Piri-Bazaar consists of a caravan- serai, a few dozen houses, and the fishing station. All goods in transitu from the Caspian to Teheran pass through this place. The little animation it possesses is due to this traffic. If I can trust the accuracy of the information I received, the capture of fish at the weir is enormous, fifty thousand of one kind or another being the amount taken daily. The principal fish captured at the weir are the sefid mahee (carp) ; the soof, the somme (four feet long) ; the salmon and salmon trout, besides the sturgeon, are caught in the brackish water lower down. The flesh of the sturgeon is but little used save by the poorer classes — the sterlet, a smaller species, being the only kind usually served at table, and generally used only for making soup. The sturgeon taken here measures from seven to nine feet long, the isinglass and caviare being the only portions utilised. This caviare , so largely consumed in Bussia, is called by the Greeks argo- tarako, and by the Italians boutargne. At Piri-Bazaar there are always riding horses and carts for the conveyance of travellers and their luggage to Resht, which can be reached in an hour by trotting pretty briskly. The road, which is only of recent construction, is very fair for Persia. For a long time it had been forbidden to con- struct any, lest it might facilitate a Russian advance on the capital. During the last Russo-Persian war, a Russian expedition tried to penetrate from Enzeli to Resht, but owing to the impassable nature of the intervening forest, then traversed only by a nai’row swampy track, after the most herculean efforts to cut its road through, and having been decimated by fever, it was obliged to retire. Clearings have been made in the woods, and a good deal of cultivation at present exists. At frequent intervals SILK.— TO BA CCO. — RESHT. 3i7 odd-looldng structures with high-pitched roofs, the eaves pro- jecting and supported by wooden props, appear. The thatch- ing is of reeds and brambles of a brown colour, the whole resembling a very pointed haystack supported on low pillars. These were the tilimbars or sheds for rearing silk- worms. Silk has been for a long time one of the staple products of this province (Ghilan) ; hut, unfortunately, the prevalence of th epebrine and flacheric diseases, which during the previous five or six years wrought sad havoc among the worms, reduced the production of silk to such a degree that the cultivators were ruined. In consequence of this blight, a memorial was forwarded to the Shah praying for a remission of taxes. This remission, I understand, was granted ; but the local authorities kept on the screw for their own private benefit. Since this decline in silk pro- duction many of the tilimbars have been idle ; tobacco seed from Samsoun on the southern Black Sea coast was sown, and the flourishing crops which resulted have done much to restore prosperity to the district. Resht itself is a scattered kind of place, largely composed of two-story houses built of unbaked brick, and roofed with red tiles. The minarets of the two mosques are of quite an unusual style. They are stout towers of red brick tapering slightly, and crowned with flattened cones of tiles, the cones projecting so much as to give the structure the appearance of an overgrown mushroom. The climate of Resht is exceedingly unwholesome in summer, owing to the low-lying nature of the surrounding ground and its swampy character. The neighbouring woods are full of game, especially pheasants and partridges, and wolves, jackals, lynxes, and hyaenas are to be found in the immediate vicinity. I have been informed that tigers of considerable size have from time to time been killed at no great distance from the town. Owing to the combined heat 3i3 MISGO VERNMENT.—. EXTORTION— TORTURE. and moisture the vegetation around the place is redun- dant, flowers blooming all the year round. What little commercial activity there is at Resht is due to the business carried on by Armenian and Greek mer- chants, and the firm of Ziegler and Co. At one of the Armenian caravanserais I saw very large quantities of raw silk being put up in bales for exportation to Marseilles, over one hundred large bales at least. When, during the great depression in this particular trade, owing to the malady prevailing among the worms, the quantity thus sent off at one shipment by a single house was so very considerable, I could well imagine what the aggregate amount in favourable years must have been. During the three days I remained at Resht I heard sad tales of misgovernment and extortion on the part of the local authorities. There seemed to be no regular system of taxation, the governor paying a certain amount to the Shah annually, and having delegated to him apparently unlimited power to squeeze as much as possible from the native merchants and peasantry. I was informed on un- questionable authority that a very short time previous to my arrival a trader had been imprisoned and buried up to his neck in the floor of his dungeon. Ice was kept constantly applied to his head to torture him, with a view of forcing from him a large sum of money. He stood this cruel punishment so long without yielding, that the stock of ice in the town was quite expended, and the governor was forced to adopt a new system of torture through sheer incapacity to continue the old one. The evildoer himself was, however, not entirely exempt from the ills of life, for he had married a princess of the Shah’s family, and whenever he displeased his spouse, the lady, by virtue of her royal descent, had him soundly bastinadoed by his own servants. STARTING FOR TEHERAN. 319 CHAPTEE XIX. RESHT TO TEHERAN. Posting in Persia— Sefid-Rood— Mountain roads— Rustamabad— Olive groves —Rood Bar— Mengil— Travelling in the dark— Stormy glen— Marc Antony and the snakes — Shah Rood — Corpse caravan— Starved post-horses— Pood Chenar— A deserted post-house— Kurd encampment— Pass of Kharzon— Kurds on the march— Funeral rites— Imam Zad6— Masrah— The garrib-gez — Miana— A Persian remedy— An appeal to the Shah— Fortified villages — Kanots — Kazvin — Persian tombstones — Hotel— Enamelled tiles A good postmaster — A contrast — A breakdown — G-ood ponies— Mounds and villages— Count de Monteforte— Approaching Teheran— Gates and forti- fications. As yet post-horses are the only means of rapid travelling in Persia. When a postal service of the kind is well con- ducted one can get along pretty well, but when, as in that country, the utmost mismanagement prevails, travelling post is the most exquisite torture it is possible to conceive. It was close on mid-day before I was able to get away from Eesht, mounted on a very fair horse. I was accompanied by Mr. Harry Churchill, son of the Asterabad consul. We had with us a gholam, or courier, belonging to the British Legation at Teheran, and the usual postman to take back the horses. For the first ten miles the road was level and good, skirted on either side by wooded hills of inconsiderable elevation, separated from us by level tracts of well- cultivated ground and stretches of luxuriant woodland. Streams of water continually crossed the road, as the irrigation canals were led from one field to another. With such a constant water supply from the Elburz chain, and such unfa ilin g 320 THE SEFID-R00D. — A BAD ROAD. sunshine, the province of Ghilan should be one of the richest in the world. For the first two hours one might imagine himself riding through some rural lane in Western Europe. Then the road began to ascend a somewhat steep hill, parts of which were rugged in the extreme, and we found ourselves proceeding along the brink of an awk- ward earth cliff overhanging the magnificent Sefid-Bood river. At this point the stream is nearly a mile wide — a vast expanse of surging yellow waters, broken by islets and sand hanks, and bearing along tree trunks and accumulations of bushes torn from its banks. To the eastward, tall scarped mountains descend to the water’s edge. As soon as the road begins to ascend it becomes simply execrable. Long stretches of pavement occur, which, owing to the springs which trickle across them, are reduced to accumulations of loose stones and deep muddy gashes, over which a horse can make his way but slowly. For twenty miles we were in constant fear that our horses would fall upon the step- like strata, which at some points resemble more a steep flight of stairs than what we are accustomed to consider a post road. It was well that our horses were pretty strong and well fed, or we should never have got over some of the very bad places. As it was, the animals were only able to make ten steps at a time, halting for half a minute be- fore they could climb as much more. More than once I dismounted and toiled up the ascent on foot, for it seemed little short of barbarity to ride a horse up such an incline. What the engineers of the road were thinking of when they planned it, I cannot imagine. It ascends and descends in the most capricious manner, when with less labour it might just as well have been constructed at a regular level along the hill slopes over which it has been cut — principally by blasting, as the drill holes in the rocks indicate. At one A RIDE IN THE DARK.— OLIVE GROVES. 321 very difficult spot we passed three European carriages, each being dragged by a dozen men, and which, to judge by the rate of progress they were making, would probably take at least a month to get to Teheran. After a weary journey of twenty-four miles we reached the first station at a place called Koudoum, where we changed horses, receiving animals which looked just as tired and worn as those we had given up. With these we scrambled along for another twenty miles to Eustamabad, a dreary-looking mud caravanserai, the only habitation within sight for miles around. The mountains, which had hitherto been densely wooded and verdant, now became bare and arid, the bright red and orange tinting of the cliffs and slopes indicating the presence of iron. From Eustamabad the road was, if possible, worse and more precipitous than before ; and the rapid closing in of night did not tend to smooth our difficulties. It was pitch dark as we ascended and descended horrid inclines along the edge of yawning abysses, which, perhaps luckily, we could but indistinctly discern, and to which, from far below, came the dull plashing roar of the Sefid Eood. Then the road became a little more practicable, and we descended into a valley thickly overgrown with very large olive trees — in some places forming dense thickets. Here and there glimmering lights were visible, and we could just distinguish the outline of some low mud houses. We had arrived at the commencement of a long straggling village, Eood Bar by name, which stretches along the banks of the Sefid Eood river for a distance of at least three miles. It was half-past nine at night before we reached the further end, where some dozen buildings, gathered into a kind of street, constituted the bazaar. Lights were still burning in a few of the houses, and we at length found lodgings in a small shop kept by an Armenian. The rough boarded floor was 9 VOL. I. Y 322 DANGEROUS RIDING.— A CURIOUS PHENOMENON. our bed, our saddles were our pillows, our overcoats the only covering available ; but after sixty-four miles of hard riding one is easily contented with any place of rest. The regular postal station was two or three hours further on, but under the circumstances it was impossible to go any further that night. We started at three o’clock the following morning. The road was again very bad, especially that portion of it which we were obliged to traverse before the light of dawn appeared. No pains whatever seemed to have been taken to improve the rough track worn among broken, shelving strata by the camel and horse traffic of past ages. Travelling over such a road in the dark is most trying to the nerves. The horses, endeavouring to scramble up or down the steep ascents, many of them having an incline of forty-five degrees, slipped and stumbled at every step. The faintly-seen rocks seemed swimming around in the gloom. The horseman suddenly finds himself girth-deep in a torrent of whose existence he only becomes aware by the flash and roar of the waters. Huge spectral cliff-faces loomed in the faint dawn-light, and the white expanse of the surging river gleamed out, far down the precipice on the verge of which the road wound. No barrier of any kind existed to prevent man or beast from going over the edge. Someone has re- marked that the roads of a country are the truest indices of its civilisation. If this be true, Persia must be backward indeed. Just as the sun was rising we arrived at a long stone bridge spanning the Sefid Eood, and had an opportunity of witnessing a curious phenomenon peculiar to the place. At the moment the sun shows above the horizon a violent wind commences to blow, continuing without interruption till evening. This wind blows at all seasons, and is some- times so violent as to render crossing the bridge dangerous, especially for laden camels, the great surface exposed to VIPERS.— A GHASTLY BURDEN. 323 the action of the wind sometimes causing the animals to be blown over the parapet into the torrent. This portion of the valley bears the name of Mengil, and is remarkable for the great number of venomous serpents by which it is infested. When the Roman army, led by Marc Antony, came here, the camp had to be moved from the valley on account of. the great quantity of vipers . 1 I recollect an occurrence similar to this during the late campaign in Armenia, when a Russian detachment, camped among the ruins of the ancient town of Ani, were obliged to strike their tents and move some distance off because of the large numbers of serpents. A short distance above the bridge of Mengil the Shah Rood falls into the Sehd Rood, which latter stream, above the point of junction, is called by a different name. A short distance outside the town, or rather village, of Mengil, I came up with a small caravan going in the direction of Teheran. For some time I had been noticing a most unpleasant odour, which I was at a loss to account for. So strong was it that I supposed that a number of camels or horses must be lying rotting in my vicinity ; and I urged my horse rapidly forward to get clear of the stench. However, the further I pushed on, the stronger became the smell, and I was quite at my wit’s end to account for its persistency, when a glance at one of the caravan conductors gave me an inkling as to whence it proceeded. The man was trudging along behind a small grey ass. He looked deadly pale, and his mouth and the entire lower part of his face were wrapped in a large cloth. On the ass’s back was an oblong white case, which I at once recognised as a coffin ; especially when, on nearing it, the stench became overpowering. It was a caravan carrying dead bodies to be interred at Kerbella in holy ground. The 1 I give this on the authority of H.M. the Shah, who makes the statement in his published diary of a voyage to Europe. 324 POOD CHENAR. driver of the ass had swathed his month and nose with cloths to avoid the pestilential effluvia emanating from the putrid corpse which his ass was carrying. He had been several days on the march, and I am not surprised that he looked sick and pale, considering the atmosphere which he breathed. I understand that Government orders have been issued prohibiting this system of corpse caravans ; but though the traffic is much diminished, it still exists to a certain extent. I galloped briskly on to get out of the unwholesome neighbourhood, and soon reached the station of Mengil. Here a considerable delay occurred in procuring post horses, and, when they were forthcoming, they were of the most miserable description, apart from which they looked as if they had been starved for a week. Pushing forward as rapidly as possible, we followed the right bank of the Shah Rood, the road sometimes descend- ing into the swampy river marge. After seven hours’ riding we reached the station of Pood Chenar (the foot of the plane-tree), where we saw a choice specimen of the manner in which things are managed on this postal line. Pood Chenar consists of two buildings, one a kind of caravanserai, built of mud and unbaked bricks ; the other, a posting station built in the same manner. The country across which we travelled was mountainous and barren. Bleak, Imre rounded hills girded our path, all striped orange and green with metallic deposits. Not a human being was to be seen, and the two buildings, so far as their loneliness was concerned, might have been a pair of enchanted castles. We toiled up a steep ascent, and arrived before a high arched doorway, the double doors of which lay wide open. No groom or ostler came to meet us. We called and shouted ; we entered, and searched every nook and cranny of the building. Neither horses nor men were to be found. Our horses, after seven hours’ rapid ride over difficult NO HORSES.— A KURD ENCAMPMENT. 325 ground, were falling with fatigue. We went up to the caravanserai, and there learned that the postal employes were ‘ gone away,’ and that there were no horses. Here was a predicament, inasmuch as I was in a desperate hurry, and had already lost much time. Nothing remained but to halt for a couple of hours to let our poor worn-out animals repose, and to give them some food, of which they were evidently much in need. We had to pay for this food, as there were no Government officials to be found. While waiting for our tired steeds to recover, we sat in the scanty shade of a thinly-leafed plane-tree, and had breakfast. Not far away was a Kurd encampment, which hitherto had not been visible, hidden, as it was, behind a hill shoulder. The Kurd tents were peculiar. I had previously seen them on the mountains between Kars and Erzeroum. The walls, about four and a half feet in height, are composed of reed mats ; the reeds are placed vertically, close together, and connected by four threads of camel hair, intertwined hori- zontally with the reeds at regular intervals. The roof consists of a single web of blackish brown camel-hair tissue, supported on internal poles some six feet high, the edges not meeting the vertical reed matting, but leaving a space of six inches in width intervening for light and air. The tents look exceedingly neat and comfortable, much more so than the heavier Turcoman kibitkas, among which I had been so long sojourning. The old Kurd elders came out of their camp to see the Ferenghi, and were most kind in looking after some of our horses which had run away. Had the road in any way approximated to a level one I should not have been so much troubled, worn though the poor beasts were after their long and quick ride. But, unfortunately, we had to face the worst portion of the entire road, the tremendous pass of Kharzon, across the steepest part of the Elburz mountains by which the transit is possible. 326 KURDS MOVING.— THE K HARZ ON PASS. There was no help for it, so we rode away towards the entrance. In the valley we had to ford a rather violent torrent, fortunately not deep, and we were rewarded for our pains by a curious sight — the moving of a Kurd en- campment. These nomads acknowledge but a very slight allegiance to the central Government, and pay still slighter taxes. The women seemed to do all the work. The men rode on tranquilly — that is to say, the men who had horses, for I noticed that horses were scarce among them. The beasts of burden were small black cows, upon whose backs were strapped all the paraphernalia of the camp. The reed tent-walls were rolled together with the black camel-hair roofs, and on these, packed on the cows’ backs, was perched a miscellaneous collection of poultry, evidently well accus- tomed to such proceedings. An occasional cat was also to be seen, seated contentedly among the fowls. A few men rode to and fro, directing the cortege . They were, as a rule, of low stature, and far different in appearance from the wild horsemen whom I had left behind me on the Turcoman plains. Each step brought us nearer to the tremendous Kharzon pass. To describe its passage would be only to multiply tenfold what I have already written about break-neck roads and dangerous precipices. We passed many Kurd camps, and at one witnessed funeral rites exactly like those of the Turcomans. Towards the higher portions of the pass, which I believe are about twelve thousand feet above the sea, was an Imam Zade, or burial-place of a saint. Each person who passed felt bound to place one stone on another in token of reverence. The road was lined with pyramids of stone fragments contributed by the pious during past centuries. After having been forced to dismount a dozen times, sometimes beyond our knees in gravelly mud, we at length, after twelve hours’ riding on the same poor horses, got to the village of Masrah, in the plain which reaches MA SR A H. — THE GARRIB-GEZ. 327 away by Kasvin to Teheran. This village is not without interest, though it is but a poor place — consisting of little more than fifty square-topped huts huddled within the limits of a mud loop-holed wall with flanking towers. The interest attaching to the village is altogether an entomological one. When starting from Eesht I had received many warnings from experts to look out for an exceedingly venom- ous insect which infests this neighbourhood. Strange to say, this place alone of all the entire district is so infested. I enter into details on the subject, as it is one which cannot fail to interest naturalists. I had been warned, on the peril of my life, not to sleep at Masrah, because there was to be found the garrib-gez (literally, ‘bite the stranger’). The effect of the bite was described to me as being on the whole much worse than that of the black scorpion. Our horses could carry us no further, and, nathless the dread which I had of these creatures, I was obliged to make a halt of half an hour at the station. One of the first questions which I asked of the stable attendants was whether they could show me a specimen of the ‘ bite the stranger.’ After a few minutes’ search, the man brought me out half-a-dozen in the palm of his hand. The largest was not over the third of an inch in length, and resembled in form what is vulgarly known in England as the ‘ sheep-tick.’ It was of a silvery grey appearance, and had, as I carefully remarked, eight legs, four on each side. I should at once have set it down as one of the arachnoid or spider family were it not for the entire absence of the dual division of cephalothorax and abdomen which distinguishes that class. Notwithstanding this, it may, and probably does, belong to the family in question. Its sting is produc- tive of the worst results. A small red point like that pro- duced by the ordinary flea is at first seen. Then follows a large black spot, which subsequently suppurates, accom- 328 GARRIB-GEZ. panied by a high fever, identical, as far as external symp- toms go, with intermittent fever. In this it is like -the bite of the tarantula or phalange of the Turcoman plains. The only difference is, that the fever produced by the sting of this insect, known scientifically as the arga Persica, and locally as the garrib-gez and Genne, if neglected for any length of time, is fatal. It is accompanied by lassitude, loss of appetite, and in some cases delirium. I have seen it mentioned in an old French book, which gives an account of the French Embassy to Teheran of 1806-7 ; but the writer had no personal experiences to relate. He called it the mouche de Miane. Miana is a village on the same stream as Masrah, and is well known as one of the habitats of this pestilential insect. It is styled by the inhabitants, as at the other places in which it obtains, the ‘ bite the stranger,’ for the people of the locality never experience any inconve- nience from its sting. There is a general belief that, when once a person has been stung, the ‘ Persian bug ’ is harmless against the same individual, and this seems to be borne out by fact; for the people living in the village of Masrah laughed at my fears as I carefully perched myself on the top of a rock with a view of keeping out of the way of the local bugs while they held them with impunity within the palms of their hands. Some Austrian officers going to Teheran in 1879, happening to stay at this hamlet of Masrah, were stung by the garrib-gez. All of them fell ill, and one narrowly escaped with his life. Numerous cases of death can be cited as the result of the sting of the arga Persica. A Persian medical man informed me that it was the custom, when any important personage was travelling through a district infested by these insects, for his attend- ants to administer to him without his knowledge one of the ‘ bugs,’ during the early morning, concealed in a piece of bread. The sting acts as a kind of inoculation, and TREATMENT OF BITE. 3 29 the local physicians believe that the poison, taken through the stomach, is administered with equally good effect as if received directly into the circulation. A leading European member of Teheran society told me that he had simultaneously received seventy-three stings from these insects, the bites having been counted by his servants. The result was an extreme amount of fever, winding up with delirium on the fifth day. Violent emetics, followed by doses of quinine, were given without effect ; and it was only after taking large quantities of tannin, in the form of a decoction of the rind of the wild pomegranate, that the patient recovered. For a great part of my informa- tion on this subject I have to thank Mr. Sydney Churchill, of Teheran, a young and rising naturalist, who has devoted much of his time and talent to the entomology of Persia. I need scarcely say that, finding myself in contact with this abominable ‘ Persian bug,’ I was in a feverish hurry to get out of its dominions ; and more than one severe objurgation rose to my lips before the half-hour’s chase after several stag-like horses on the hill-slope was completed. I was contemplating in a melancholy mood the skeletons of seven horses lying close by, without doubt the victims of overwork and little food, when our new steeds were driven in from pasture on a bleak mountain side, to commence a run of twenty miles at post speed. I make express mention of this, in order that it may, if possible, reach the Shah’s ears indirectly; and that, if he have not pity on the travellers who come to visit his capital from the Caspian, he will cherish some feeling for the poor half- starved brutes that are ridden over the hills of which he is sovereign. I write this advisedly, for I have reason to know that he is most anxious that the affairs of his kingdom should be properly conducted ; but, unfortunately, he is dependent for information on those whose interest it is not to tell him the 330 DOWN TO THE PLAINS. truth. I hope that, should these lines ever meet his eyes, he will give me credit for the intention with which they were written. Descending from the mountains, a vast plain opens out to the view. Sparsely- sprinkled gardens, with their tall poplars and densely-leaved chenars, tremble in the mirage like wooded islands in a tranquil sea. The proximity to the dangerous Turcoman frontier, notwithstanding the intervening range of the Elburz, across which I had just ridden, was marked by fortified villages and caravanserais. Each was a fortress in itself — a square of from a hundred to a hundred and fifty yards on each side, protected by high embattled walls of unbaked brick, with flanking towers fifteen feet high at intervals of forty yards. The gateway of each stronghold was a little fort in itself, and Biblical descriptions came forcibly to my mind as we saw the white- robed elders (smoking their water-pipes) seated on either side the entry with a more than patriarchal solemnity, the attendants in robes of Oriental brilliancy, raising their heads to stare at the unholy Giaours dashing by as quickly as their poor weary, sore-backed steeds would permit. In riding over this plain I discovered the solution of a problem which had often puzzled me. I had seen small earth mounds ranged in a symmetrical row reaching for miles and miles. I now discovered that they were composed of the earth thrown up from numerous shafts during the construc- tion of what are called kanots, or underground watercourses, leading from the mountains to the plain below. Erom the Elburz range to Teheran vegetable life is artificially sus- tained on the bleak internal Steppes by means of these subterranean watercourses. Putting our horses to a gallop, we were soon sweeping by the scanty vineyards that surround Kasvin, and the yellow, turreted walls of that town came into view. KASVJN. 33i Kasvin, the birthplace of the Sage Lockman, and for a brief space the capital of Persia, is a very considerable town, and destined, when the projected railroad from Eesht to Teheran shall have . been completed, to play an important role in the history of the country. Seen from the midst of the vineyards and pistache plantations which surround it, it presents an eminently picturesque appearance, with its brightly gleaming cupolas and towers glinting beyond the clienar groves which surround its walls. The gate by which I entered, pierced in its western fortifications, is guarded by the usual towers of unbaked brick, plastered over with yellowish brown clay. Just outside it, and reaching up to the edge of the now dry ditch, is an extensive cemetery, remarkable for its tombstones, which lie flat upon the graves, being in this totally unlike the standing ‘ turban stones ’ of the Ottoman Turks. In the midst of each is inserted a piece of white alabaster, a couple of feet long, in the form of a heraldic shield, bearing a raised inscription and the representation of a long spouted jug like a coffee-pot and some cups and tumblers. This may have some connection with the custom of the Turcoman nomads of placing these articles on the graves. The afternoon sun was intensely hot as I rode along between the blank staring mud walls which rose on either side of the street, almost deserted at that hour of the day. A few people w T ere lazily lounging in some barbers’ shops, or stretched out at full length asleep upon the ground in the narrow shade of the houses. Several kanots traverse the town, and the vertical shafts constructed when excavating them lie most reprehensibly open in the midst of the thorough- fares. A horseman or pedestrian traversing the streets after dark would infallibly come to grief. Kasvin affords on every side evidences of its past greatness, and signs of growing importance mingle with the older traces of 332 HO TEL.— ARCHITECTURE. prosperity. Mosques and towers, their roofs covered with glazed blue tiles, rose on every side, and I much regretted not having sufficient time at my disposal to visit them. The postal establishment would do credit to a first- class European town. It includes a large hotel, with arched portico supported on massive pillars of whitewashed brick. The rooms are spacious and airy, and floored with large, square, glazed tiles. This hotel cannot fail to be a paying speculation when once the Resht-Teheran Railway line is established. The principal town gates, and those of some of the chief public buildings, are really very pretty. They are of the Eastern ogive form, ornamented with curious pinnacles, with bud-like extremities, forcibly reminding one of asparagus shoots. They are profusely ornamented with designs in enamelled brick and tiles of the brightest colours. The brick patterns are mostly black, blue, white, and orange, producing, in the blinding glare of an Eastern sun, an indescribably brilliant effect. In the spaces over the arches, and in the side panels, are large, fairly exe- cuted designs in enamelled tiles, representing the Lion and Sun, and various scenes from Persian mythology and history. These buildings, with their brilliant colouring, re- minded me forcibly of the drawings of the restored palaces of Nineveh. The road from Kasvin to Teheran is a marvellous im- provement on that between the former town and Resht, which is so exceedingly bad as scarcely to merit the name of road. In fact, the natural surface of the country, left as it origi- nally stood, would be infinitely preferable to the present frightful track — half mud-hole, half quarry. The road leading southward from Kasvin owes a good deal to its course lying over a level sandy plain; but its condition is remarkably good. It is at least forty feet wide, well drained, and kept in good order. The postmaster of Kasvin GOOD ROAD.— DISHONEST POSTMASTERS. 333 is, as I was informed there, a Pole ; and the assistants and grooms are either Bussian or German. We were provided with capital horses, in first-rate condition, and the rapid pace at which we cleared the first stage of about twenty-four miles was luxurious compared to the tediously crawling and aggravating progress over the more northerly track. Owing to the good condition of the road between Kasvin and Teheran, troikas have been supplied, and are available for travellers who do not like to proceed on horseback, while the entire road reflects the greatest credit on those to whose charge it is entrusted. I regret not to be able to say the same thing of the condition in which we found the post horses at many stations. The animals were excellent in their way ; but it was evident before one had made a quarter of a mile on their backs that they were either half- starved or overworked. The infrequency of travellers along this route, especially those travelling by post, renders it impossible that the animals could be overworked by legitimate traffic. I was informed on good authority that in some cases postmasters either use the horses, which they are supposed to hold in readiness for the public service, on their own farms, or else let them out to others for a similar purpose. So it happens that the traveller on arriving at the station finds the horses intended for his use, and for which he has paid at a high rate, so completely broken down by their day’s labour as to be incapable of proceeding at anything like the required pace over the sixteen or twenty miles which separate the post-houses. For instance, the horses we obtained at Kishlak station, at which we arrived at nine o’clock on the evening of our departure from Kasvin, and which we left at five o’clock on the following morning, were, though very fair animals, in such a wretchedly fatigued condition that we were obliged to dismount within two miles of the next station and send on a messenger to obtain help to get 334 HIS SA REK. — OLD MOUNDS. our saddles and baggage up to the post-house. On another stage our postboy’s horse broke down completely, and we had to wait three hours for him at Yengi Imam. The horses we obtained there were in the same deplorable condition ; and it was only on reaching Hissarek post-house that we were furnished with proper animals. At this last station we were supplied with spirited little grey ponies, who sometimes carried us a good deal quicker than we wished to go. The good condition of the horses at Hissarek, and the rapidity with which they carried us, showed what a well- disposed, honest postmaster could do. In fact, with the exception of the arrangements at Kasvin and the horses supplied to us when leaving that town, as well as those from Hissarek to Teheran, there could not possibly be found a worse conducted posting system. In the horses we found poor overworked beasts ; in the men, people endowed with all the provoking slowness and insouciance of Spaniards, without a trace of the honesty and manliness which are the redeeming qualities of the latter. The country on either side the high road is well culti- vated, and numerous villages occur at short intervals. They are all, without exception, surrounded by tall, strong mud walls with circular flanking towers. It is curious to note that, almost invariably, in close proximity to these villages are large earthen mounds, somewhat similar to those one meets with on the Turcoman plains, but greatly inferior in dimensions. These mounds have traces of exten- sive earthworks about their bases, indicating that the sites of the modern villages are almost coincident with the ancient ones, dating back to almost prehistoric times, when these earth mounds supported the citadels which served as places of refuge to the inhabitants in time of invasion. To the left of the road the plain is dotted by the long lines of small earth mounds which denote the tracks of the kanots , and NEARING TEHERAN.— PERSIAN GENDARMERIE. 335 which are the only available means by which the arid plains are kept fruitful during the withering summer heats. Owing to the source of each being at the bottom of a very deep well at the foot, or low down on the slope, of some neighbouring hills, these streams are independent of the melting snows for their water supply ; and the fact of their channels lying deep beneath the surface of the earth pre- vents the great evaporation which would occur did they trickle along the surface, also keeping the water cool and in a drinkable condition. These streams issue to the surface at the level portions of the plain, where they serve alike for the irrigation of the fields and the water supply of the villages. Between Kasvin and Teheran one comes upon traces of genuine European civilisation — due, if I be not mistaken, to the Count de Monteforte, the Police Minister of his Majesty the Shah. It is true that for many a long league the police stations, situated eight miles apart, were little more than half-completed buildings ; but as we got closer to the capital we came upon pleasant little lodges, in some cases ornamented with incipient creeping plants, and always with well-uniformed gendarmerie before the door. These little places, with their public functionaries, are agreeable interruptions of the uncivilised nakedness of the rest of the road. But Persia is only in her transition state as yet. The country round Teheran is by no means attractive. It looks sadly bare and sunburnt, relieved only by the strictly limited gardens, the result of laborious irrigation, which break the yellow-gray expanse of plain. Half the verdure one sees belongs to gardens attaching to the many residences possessed by the Shah in the neigh- bourhood of the town. The deep green foliage of the plane- trees ( chenar ) looked painfully prominent against the dreary background of ashy-yellow plain which sweeps away to the 336 ELBURZ MOUNTAINS.— CITY GATE. foot of the Elburz mountains, then deeply covered with snow. It is one of the most tantalising things possible to ride a last stage across the plain, where the air is thick with dun-brown dust, and to see the giant peaks towering, seemingly within hand’s reach, all white with snowy caps — long silvery streaks coming down claw-like along their sides. It makes one feel doubly hot and thirsty. Even close to the city itself gardens and villages are enclosed by tall mud walls, with the inevitable flanking towers. The deplorable traditions of scarce a century ago still live in this system of (pt