the picturesqueness of which beggars description. Indeed an apology is
due to the reader for the number of adjectives and superlatives used in
this chapter (I believe these are quite antiquated grammatical terms,
but I am ignorant of the new names which are later than my day); the
fact is that this is the most wonderful city I have yet come across in
my wanderings, and no words seem adequate, so I trust to be forgiven.
Here one could escape from European anachronisms, and the place was
filled with a gay, bustling throng of men and beasts. The water-carrier
was busy quenching man’s thirst from an unappetising-looking skin slung
over his shoulder, which still retained the shape of the animal to whom
it originally belonged. Another man provides the smoker with a whiff
of tobacco from a general pipe. We pushed our way gently through the
throng, treated with utmost courtesy by young and old. We climbed up to
Bibi Khanum’s tomb, an excellent point of vantage from which to look
down on the busy scene. Immediately below us was the grain market, to
the right a busy traffic in green grass used for fodder; beyond that
was a space specially devoted to camels, where the beasts knelt in long
rows, tranquilly surveying the scene. Further away was a large enclosure
full of horses, and another space devoted to the sale of fuel. All round
the market were low buildings, or booths, for all sorts of things, and
a row of busy blacksmiths and harness makers. Blocks of rock-salt from
Hissar, sweetmeats, tobacco, and green snuff found plenty of purchasers,
while itinerant vendors plied a busy trade in all directions. Every day
that we were there seemed equally busy, and in the bazaars they sell not
only native goods, but large quantities of Russian silks, especially
those made in Moscow. Cotton goods from Manchester were not lacking, and
it is to be feared that competition is killing to a large extent the
native industries. They no longer make the wonderful carpets of ancient
times, and we were warned that it is risky to buy old ones on account of
infection. Some of the silks are attractive, but majenta is a favourite
colour, and the curious designs would not look well transplanted from
their local setting.
[Illustration: HAZRÉTI SHAH ZINDEH]
Leaving the market we passed through a little valley on the eastern
side, and to our surprise a picturesque native suddenly stepped into the
carriage and sat down opposite to us. Our self-constituted guide was
seated on the box, so he turned round to explain that it was quite right,
for we should require the man’s services directly. In point of fact we
stopped in less than two minutes in front of a gateway, the entrance
to which was blocked by a pole placed across it. We passed through a
side gate on foot into a shady park, where numbers of people were seated
in parties under the trees, and sweetmeat sellers were plying a brisk
trade. There are many different trees at Samarkand, but the chief of them
are the white poplars and the black Turkestan elms; the latter are the
national sacred tree—the karagatch. The people are great gardeners, and
the water-supply is excellent; indeed it is being drawn increasingly from
the river which supplies Bokhara, to the detriment of that city.
As we strolled along the shady paths veiled women eyed us furtively. A
few minutes’ walk brought us to a short flight of steps leading down to
a fine blue-tiled gateway. As we entered it a vista of great beauty, a
masterpiece of art, was revealed, which had previously been completely
hidden from view. Forty gleaming marble steps lead upward to a fine
gateway, surmounted by domes. A flowering shrub hung over the wall on the
right, and a cluster of scarlet poppies had forced their way between the
slabs of marble. In the porch sat a typical group of natives, and our
guide presented us with some ceremony to the Mullah, who was apparently
in charge of the buildings—the Hazréti Shah Zindeh, or summer palace of
Tamerlane. The palace is called after a saint, Shah Zindeh, whose tomb is
one of the buildings; in fact it would never occur to any one that this
was a palace, but rather a collection of shrines and tombs. The saint is
expected to rise again some day. On reaching the top of the steps we came
into a little flagged lane, with the most brilliant archway standing up
against the sky (the one in the sketch), such a blaze of scintillating
colour that the blue heaven looked dull and opaque in comparison. Here
the tiles are finer than any of the others; they are modelled in relief
and in open work, unlike any that we saw elsewhere. The designs were
of an infinite variety, and it seemed a grievous pity that the little
hall within was dirty and befouled by birds nesting there; all the walls
within, as well as without, were covered with various kinds of tiles.
Opposite this was another hall, quite different in its decoration. A
little further down the winding lane were another pair of halls, also
surmounted by domes, and with yet other designs on the walls; there are
altogether seven of them, the remaining three being grouped together
at the extreme end of the lane, and forming the termination of it. The
innermost shrine is a little mosque, consisting of two rooms, a sort of
holy of holies. On the wall I noticed a rough colour print of the Kaaba,
and named it to our guide. He was greatly interested, and asked if I had
ever been to Mecca, and I fancy reckoned me at once one of the faithful.
We were shown the great Koran, a gigantic volume to suit the size of the
lectern in Bibi Khanum’s madressah. The famous original was carried to
St. Petersburg after the taking of Samarkand by the Russians, but this is
said to be a fine sixteenth-century copy of it. There were relics of the
saint pointed out to us behind a screen, but we could not make out what
they were, and we were shown the beautiful carpet, a fine specimen of
those made in Turkestan. Banners of red, blue, and green hang over these
treasures, and under them the guardian of the shrine sat down, intimating
that he was now prepared to receive a gift. To judge by his attitude
he thought it would be a lordly one, but there is always a strange
discrepancy in the East between the magnitude of the gift and the air
with which it is received. In various nooks and corners people lay curled
up asleep, or were drowsily repeating their prayers. While I sketched our
two guides were evidently discussing our merits, and at last one inquired
if we were Russians, and on hearing that we were not they wanted to know
whether we liked the Russians, making it abundantly plain that they did
_not_. Nevertheless they acquiesce without much apparent feeling to the
yoke of the foreigner, no doubt accepting it as “Fate.”
One of the interesting points to visit outside Samarkand is the tomb of
the prophet Daniel, whom the people insist on considering to be the hero
of Scripture history. We drove to it through the town, passing out of
the market up a steep dusty road. A mosque dominates the city from the
brow of the hill, and around it is a large cemetery of dreary, neglected
graves. It was from this point that I sketched the city, and while doing
so was somewhat startled by finding a large tortoise at my side, which
had crawled out of the grass. The road is primitive, but no one expects
anything else, and constant carriage exercise no doubt is good for the
inhabitants in lieu of any other kind. The way leads through sandy,
hillocky ground (suggestive of dunes by the seashore) for about a couple
of miles, and then the road abruptly ends. We got out of the carriage and
the driver led us on foot down a ravine to the tomb. It is the longest
tomb one would suppose that could be found anywhere, being about 25 yards
in length (Edouard Blanc says), and is finely situated on a rock terrace,
with crags rising above it and plenty of trees below it down to the
edge of a river. The legend which accounts for the extraordinary length
of the tomb is that, owing to some miraculous quality, it grows a few
inches every year, and that by the time it has stretched round the earth
Islamism will dominate the whole world.[7] However, the Russian governor
decided the miracle should cease, and ordered a building to be placed
over it, an inconspicuous erection with five little cupolas along the top
and surmounted by the usual standard, tuft of hair and rams’ horns; this
last is the usual offering made by Sarts at a saint’s shrine, and which
we saw again on the tombs outside Bokhara.
Strolling down the steep hill-side into a grove of trees below, we came
to a busy scene. The trees rise out of a large terrace, where handsome
carpets were spread on the ground, on which were seated parties of
devotees engaged in conversation or in prayer, while their horses were
tethered hard by in the shade. Close at hand servants were busily
preparing food at various fires under a shed, and it looked as if it were
some picnic instead of a religious exercise. Evidently the worshippers
were going to make a day of it, and they looked highly picturesque with
their many-coloured robes and white turbans.
The valley was a charming one, full of lofty poplars and elms. A mill
was built over the river lower down, and there were many houses nestling
among the trees. The yellow soil, called _toprach_, is extremely fertile
when sufficiently watered, and the Sarts have a saying, “Plant a stick in
the toprach, give it a trickle of water, and next year you will have a
tree.”
There are other excursions worth making in the neighbourhood, and we
greatly regretted that lack of time prevented our doing them. One in
particular we thought would have been attractive, namely, a ride to
the snow-covered mountains, whence there is a fine view over the plain
to the city. There are ruins called Aphrosiab all round the city, and
interesting coins of the Græco-Bactrian period have been found there.
Till within the last few years the madressah of Timur Malik, ten
kilometres distant, was still standing, but it has been laid in ruins
by an earthquake. There are other mosques in the city worth visiting,
especially that of Zemreh Khodja, the mausoleum of Khodja ben Khaddra,
and the madressahs of Ishrak Khaneh and Khodja Akhrar.
CHAPTER XX
Bokhara
The journey from Samarkand to Bokhara only takes about six and a half
hours by rail, across a dull monotonous plain as far as Kazan (pronounced
Kaghan), thence on a little branch line through green fields for the
last half-hour. We stopped at the Russian settlement of Kazan, an
absolutely uninteresting place. We were informed that the Hotel d’Europe
was comfortable, and we drove to it from the station, only to find every
room engaged. The German proprietress told us they were always busy, but
recommended us to the only other hotel, the _Commercial_. Here we found
a thoroughly clean room, and the pleasantest of Russian hostesses. As
usual, we were expected to have brought our bed clothes, but not having
done so the hostess fetched some out of her private store, and she was
quite gratified by our admiration of her handiwork on the sheets: “Made
when I was unmarried,” she said, with a weary smile.
Next morning we intended taking an early train on the little branch line
to Bokhara, but the heat was oppressive, so we delayed till the afternoon
when the air was somewhat cooled by thunder rain. Bokhara is said to
be intolerably hot, quite different from Kazan, though only eight miles
distant. The fields of grain looked green and fresh, and already the
crops were beginning to be cut, the deep blue of the cornflowers glinting
among them. The train runs between Kazan and Bokhara half-a-dozen times
per day.
On our arrival there we saw the truth of what we had been told, that
Bokhara was not a place where Europeans could stay, for there are only
small caravanserais and no hotel, but there are some Russian buildings
outside the city walls, including a fine bank. The old walls enclose a
large city, but as we made our way through its narrow streets we were
struck with the absence of population, such a striking contrast from
Samarkand. At the gate were Sart guards and a row of fixed bayonets
hung on the wall of the guard house. Here we were no longer in Russian
territory, for the province of Bokhara, 100,000 square miles in extent,
cuts like a wedge through Turkestan, and is a vassal state of the Russian
Empire. It only boasts two cities of importance, Bokhara and Khiva, and
is ruled by the Amir. The Government is a hereditary despotism, with
absolute power of life and death. Russia, however, keeps a jealous eye
upon its affairs, and when two native missionaries (under the auspices of
the Swedish Mission) had been working there some time ago, the Russian
authorities insisted upon their being sent out of the country. Since
then no mission work is allowed to exist, for it is hardly possible to
call by such a name what is being done by the Orthodox Church, its work
aiming rather at political than spiritual results; at least so we were
told by a Russian lady. It has no definite mission as in Siberia for the
Mohammedans. I met this lady in the street, and she stopped me to inquire
if I happened to be Miss C.; she had been asked to look out for her,
the only address furnished being “Central Asia.” She proved to be a Red
Cross nurse, travelling in Central Asia with the object of doing work for
the Bible Society, and ascertaining what opening there was for mission
work. Her nationality and right of entrance into all Government hospitals
gave her special facility for doing this, and she found the people quite
friendly and inclined to talk on religious topics, but the officials
stood in the way. The Russian Consul told her frankly he didn’t like
missionaries, but he admitted that he knew none and could give no grounds
for his objection.
Bokhara “the Noble” has always been the centre of religious influence
since Islam first conquered it about A.D. 709 (Arabian invasion), and
to-day it boasts a rigid adherence to the letter of the Koran, surpassing
that of any other place. Before the Arabian invasion Central Asia was
Christian. The Nestorian Church had established episcopal sees in Merv
and Samarkand as early as the fifth century, and the whole country had
practically adopted Christianity. After it had become Moslem the Mongols
swept down upon it in the thirteenth century. “In Bokhara, so famed for
its men of piety and learning, the Mongols stabled their horses in the
sacred precincts of the mosques, and tore up the Korans to serve as
litter; those of the inhabitants who were not butchered were carried
away into captivity, and their city reduced to ashes. Such, too, was the
fate of Samarkand, Balkh, and many another city of Central Asia.”[8] The
Moslem faith, however, survived the storm. When the Arabian Mohammedan
leadership had become weakened about the middle of the eleventh century
it passed into the hands of the Turanians, and they now showed their
power by winning their conquerors over to Islamism in a singularly short
space of time.
As one strolls through the streets of Bokhara to-day, one sees and hears
nothing but Mohammedanism. The civil administration is entirely in the
hands of the religious orders, and the madressahs, with the exception
of El Azhar at Cairo, are the most important in the world. There are
said to be 365 madressahs, but in reality there is not a third of that
number. The dates of some of these are 1372 (Abdullah’s), 1426, 1529,
1582; and the Empress Catherine of Russia founded one in the eighteenth
century. Vambéry says that nowhere in the East had he found the Moslems
so punctilious about the externals of religion, even to repeating their
prayers stark-naked for fear their clothes should have been defiled
in any way without their being aware of it. Their ruling principle is
“man must make a figure; no one cares for what he _thinks_!” We saw the
shockingly dirty tanks where so much religious washing goes on, and they
were revolting beyond words. The text of Islam says that where there are
more than 120 pints of water it is “blind,” that is to say the dirt gets
lost in it. Consequently you see people washing out their ears, noses,
and mouths in the filthiest tanks adjoining mosques before reciting their
prayers, which they do at least five times a day. The consequence of this
is that the inhabitants constantly suffer from tapeworm, which the French
call by the more pleasing name “solitare.”
A large part of the population of Bokhara belongs to the religious
orders, and are known as Ishans, Mullahs, and Reis. They belong to the
Sunnite faction, and have an utter abhorrence of Persian Moslems, who do
not belong to that sect; they maintain the same standard of religious
asceticism as that of the Middle Ages, and are prepared to fight just as
in those days. It is hard to realise that they are utterly untouched by
modernism, and the barbarism of Bokhara is unspeakable. Needless to say,
we did not visit the prison—descriptions of it can be read in every book
dealing with the place, but it does not bear thinking of when we remember
that Englishmen were literally rotting away there, “masses of their flesh
having been gnawn off their bones by vermin in 1843” (Wolff). The citadel
has no less hideous tales to tell: indeed Bokhara is one of the most
degraded places on the face of the earth according to all accounts.
“Thou wilt to Bokhara? O fool for thy pains,
Thither thou goest to be put into chains.”
MESNEVI.
Vambéry’s description of what he saw only half a century ago leaves no
room for doubt on this subject. He heard the robes which were to be
awarded to successful soldiers described as “four-head,” “ten-head,”
or “twenty-head” robes, and seeing no such design on them inquired the
meaning of the term. For all answer he was taken to see the arrival of
the conquerors; they had women captives tied to their saddle bows as well
as great sacks. These were filled with _human heads_, and each man in
turn had these hideous trophies counted, and the number placed upon the
official list to be the measure of the reward he should receive. The lot
of the slaves is a terrible one, and slavery still exists, being a thing
wholly approved and sanctioned by the Koran. The law of Harem is observed
with the utmost stringency, and women of the upper class are kept closely
secluded. If a girl is allowed to go out at all, she must not only be
veiled, but must put on the appearance of age and decrepitude, walking
with a stick on tottering footsteps. Although not compelled to do so
as in the case of women, the men also cultivate assiduously the art of
a special step, which is known as the “Reftari khiraman”: their poets
describe it as the swaying of a cypress in the wind, but to us it
appears as an ungainly waddle. David Cox was clever enough to make the
dogs bark in his sketches, but I, alas, cannot make my man waddle!
The law of Islam prohibits drunkenness, but “the number of beng eaters
(beng is a drug made from _cannabis Indica_) is greatest in Bokhara and
Khokand, and it is no exaggeration to say that three-fourths of the
learned and official world, or in other words the whole intelligent
class, are victims to this vice. The Government looks on with perfect
indifference while hundreds, nay thousands, commit suicide.... The few
hints we have thrown out are sufficient to show the abyss of crime to
which an exaggerated fanaticism degrades mankind” (Vambéry’s “Travels in
Central Asia”). Bokhara is still the same to-day, the most fanatical and
the most corrupt city in Asia, though outwardly to the eye of the casual
stranger clothed with the respectability that its European masters exact.
[Illustration: MOSQUE AT BOKHARA]
We penetrated into the bazaars, but they offered no special features
of interest, Bokhara having like the other cities of Central Asia to a
large extent lost its ancient skill in art. The silks sold in it are
made in Moscow mainly, and the cottons are also European. The railway
and the protective tariff have combined to kill the old trade that used
to exist between Bokhara and India, passing over the trade route through
Afghanistan. The fine architecture all belongs to the past. One of the
mosques was ornamented with beautiful designs in brickwork, enhanced
by a fine note of colour near the top of the minarets in green tiles.
The colour ornamentation of the mosques is for the most part much more
restrained than that of Samarkand, but seen in the midst of the uniform
dust colour of its sun-dried bricks it is the more effective. There are
not nearly so many trees as at Samarkand, though outside one of the city
gates we found a shady road, and there are twelve large canals in the
neighbourhood to supply the gardens as well as the ordinary drinking
supply. A crowd of camels was waiting hard by; presumably they remain
outside the city because the streets are too narrow and tortuous to be
blocked by such unwieldy beasts. There was an elevated booth on the other
side of the gate where the gay throng seemed to be engaged in the act of
worship and pleasure simultaneously; but the foreground of the picture
was filled up with a compact mass of graves, looking as if they were
centuries old.
The largest building in the city is the mosque of Kelan, built by
Tamerlane, and there are many other mosques varying in size and interest.
We climbed up to the roof of one for the sake of the view, but it was
not much, and we were told that we should have gone up a tower for the
purpose. Almost every minaret is surmounted by a stork’s nest, for
Bokhara is noted for its storks.
As we came away we saw a string of covered carts with gay carpets over
them making their way to the station. They were backed up to a siding,
where the veiled beauties within them were rapidly transferred to
second-class carriages away from the public gaze. Then the gay coverings
were folded up and put in the luggage van, and the carriages were brought
round and attached to our train; evidently they contained people of
importance, for there was a large crowd of natives to see them off, and
on reaching Kazan their carriages were again detached preparatory to
being joined to the express as soon as it arrived. Many Persians are to
be found throughout Turkestan; the railway stations are crowded with
them, and our Russian Red Cross nurse told us a charming idyllic story
which I cannot forbear repeating, of one of their veiled beauties with
whom she had talked on her journey. The Persian lady was a princess
travelling with her husband on their honeymoon. The husband said they had
seen one another seven years ago in a garden, and had fallen deeply in
love. Owing to his inferior rank the princess’s father would not hear of
their marriage, and it was only after seven years that his consent was at
last obtained. “She is not beautiful as she was then,” he continued, but
there was a look of great tenderness on both their faces, showing that
the love at all events had not diminished, and they further explained
that they had determined to have a European honeymoon, and were now on
their travels. Another happy couple whom our friend met was guarded by
the wife’s stalwart brothers. The husband and wife had been married nine
years and were still deeply in love, but they were very sad because the
wife (aged twenty-one) had as yet no son. They were now on a pilgrimage
to pray for one, as the husband said he had not taken a second wife,
nor did he wish to do so, “but, of course, if Providence did not send a
son——.” He repudiated the idea that as a Mohammedan he might be expected
to have four wives if he chose, and said he was very fond of his present
wife. Certainly the position of women is the worst evil of Mohammedanism,
taken in connection with Mohammed’s own history, and in the light of the
teaching of the Koran.
It might have been hoped that Russian influence would have had some
effect in ameliorating things; but even the Russophile Skrine[9] admits
that it has had no civilizing influence on the Khanate of Bokhara.
Slavery, tyranny, and barbarism are still allowed free scope, in order
that their disintegrating effect may the more readily place it under
Russian dominion.
CHAPTER XXI
Through the Caucasus
We left Kazan for the homeward journey, intending only to stop at
Vienna on the way, but fate decreed otherwise. The train started in the
evening, and we travelled two nights and a day through flat country to
the Caspian Sea. The railway through Turkestan runs parallel first with
the Afghan frontier—across which no Russian dare step on pain of his
life—and then parallel with the Persian border. The mountains of Persia
formed a beautiful outline against the stormy sky as we passed through
Askabad, the southernmost point of the line, and when the rain came down
in blinding torrents we watched the patient camels and their drivers
on the plain, behaving as if completely oblivious of the storm. Not so
the Cossack on his fiery steed; he looked as if possessed by the storm
demon, tearing across the plain as if the furies were behind him. A land
of strange contrasts—the immovable calm of the East, and, vainly beating
against it, the restless West. The question forces itself irresistibly
upon the mind—which will conquer?
[Illustration: BAKU]
The sun shone brightly next morning as we woke on the shores of the
Caspian Sea, and it looked calm and inviting, so different from the
description of his stormy journey given by Anthony Jenkinson in the
sixteenth century. He says: “This sea is freshwater in many places, and
in other places as salt as our great Ocean. It hath many goodly Rivers
falling into it, and it avoideth not itselfe except it be underground.
During the time of our Navigation wee set up the redde crosse of S.
George in our flagges, for honour of the Christians, which I suppose was
never seen in the Caspian Sea before.” The terminus of the railway line
is a miserable little sun-baked village called Krasnovodsk, with only
one imposing edifice, the railway station. We took our things at once
to the boat, through a maze of railway trucks and carriages, and were
delighted to find it a comfortable little steamer, with a Finnish captain
who had served long on English ships and looked like a Scotchman. There
was a gigantic sturgeon lying on the landing-stage, and he told us some
have been caught in the Caspian Sea weighing two tons. Our voyage only
lasted about thirteen hours, but none of the passengers save myself faced
dinner, and I was surprised to see next morning that there had been some
eight or nine on board. During the night a little child died, so there
was a delay while the health officer made his inquiry, and we were all
duly inspected.
The view of Baku, although seen through driving rain, was eminently
picturesque, and the old ruined maiden’s tower (in the centre of my
sketch) which is close to the wharf stands up boldly from amongst
the modern buildings. Forty years ago Baku was a small town with its
picturesque eastern quarter, but now it is a city boasting more than a
quarter of a million inhabitants, as cosmopolitan as a seaport on the
Mediterranean. The extraordinary change is of course due to the discovery
of oil, which has brought wealth, ugliness, and other undesirable things
to the surrounding country.
The country round Baku is hideous, a sort of eruption of oil derricks
covers miles of it. These are pyramidal buildings like square mill
chimneys, only considerably thicker at the base, and there are no
less than 2000 at Balakhani closely packed together. There is such an
abundance of oil that in many parts it is only necessary to make a hole
in the ground with a stick and a jet of flame will rise in the air.
On still nights it is possible to set light to the oil which gathers
on the surface of the sea. No wonder that the Parsees worshipped the
strange fire, and there still exists a curious temple at a place called
Surakhany, about half a day’s journey from Baku, where the so-called
“eternal fires” burn, though the last worshippers left it some quarter
of a century ago. The modern spirit has changed it into a profitable
petroleum factory.
[Illustration: TIFLIS]
[Illustration: A PERSIAN]
The town is evidently well worth seeing, but the pitiless rain drove us
to the Hotel d’Europe, and we were glad to resume our journey, deciding
to go round by Tiflis instead of direct from Baku to Vienna. There is
a through train to the frontier, Volochisk, which takes four nights
and three days, and from thence it is another day and night journey to
Vienna. We were told that it would be only a difference of hours if we
took the other route, and that by so doing we could see the magnificent
pass through the Caucasus, travelling from Tiflis to Vladikavkaz by
public automobile. It was impossible in Baku to ascertain anything
definite as to the hours of starting or arriving of the automobile, but
as our train was due at 6.30 A.M. we fondly imagined we should be in time
to catch it. Nothing of the sort. With Russian perversity it started in
connection with no train, but at 6 A.M. We could hardly regret the delay,
however, for we found ourselves in such comfortable quarters at the quiet
Hotel de Londres, which had been recommended to us, and we should have
appreciated it the more had we known then that they were the last beds we
should occupy till we reached London a week later.
Tiflis is well worth a visit: it is situated on the lofty banks of a
tumultuous river, and its green and red roofs, varied by the gleaming
domes of the churches, are most picturesque. There is a large number
of these, and Tiflis has become the home of many religious refugees,
for in order to stamp out heresy, orthodox Russia exiles her Baptists,
Stundists, &c., to the outlying parts of the empire, such as Siberia and
the Caucasus. It boasts a fine German church, also a Swedish mission, and
a depôt of the Bible Society. The Swedish missionaries have been working
there for twenty-two years, but are not allowed by the Government to have
any medical or educational work, which greatly limits their usefulness.
It is hard work, but bravely done.
Tiflis is noted for its sulphur baths, and attracts many visitors from
different parts of Russia on that account. After a drive round the town
we went up the funicular railway, and from the summit a magnificent
panoramic view is to be had, for Tiflis is in the heart of the mountains.
The ruins of the old walls can be traced on the north side of the river,
and the old Georgian fortress, now included in the botanical garden.
Tiflis was founded in the fifth century, and became the capital of the
Georgian kingdom in the beginning of the sixth century. It fell into the
hands of Russia in 1801, and the feelings of the Georgians are still
intensely bitter after a century of foreign rule. It is a cosmopolitan
city, and Professor Brugsch estimates that seventy languages may be heard
in it. One unusual feature of the population is that the men are double
the number of the women.
At 5.30 next morning we set out for the automobile and secured our seats;
it was a covered car to seat nine passengers, but we were only six,
which certainly seemed a sufficient load for the road we had to cover.
The earlier part of the way we sped through pretty wooded country, with
picturesque villages and ruined fortresses dotted among the crags on
either side of the road. They were not so numerous as to punctuate the
scenery in the way they do on the Rhine, but just to remind one that
this was the Georgian military road in the old days. Our chauffeur was a
good one, but unfortunately his hooter was as hoarse as a raven and not
even as loud, so that there was no means of warning the vehicles ahead,
which caused constant delay on the narrow road. Before we had proceeded
far we saw a comical accident owing to the soft condition of the road;
a private motor car on one side and a cart on the other had each sunk
deep into the soil in trying to avoid one another. Fortunately there
was plenty of assistance at hand, for the cart belonged to a party of
emigrants, and soon both vehicles were dug out and pushed on to solid
ground.
The day was beautiful, and the scent of hawthorn, wild roses and thyme,
yellow azalea and lime-trees filled the air, and the scenery became
increasingly wild and beautiful. After three hours’ drive we halted for
half-an-hour near a town on the outskirts of which musketry practice was
going on, then we began the main ascent of the pass. The road became
very steep, and the air cold and damp as we zig-zagged up the mountain.
There were brilliant patches of kingcups, and amongst them beautiful
tall snowdrops in great profusion. Instead of cultivated land there were
pastures full of flocks of sheep and goats, shepherded by bright-looking
boys. Of all the passes I have seen in Europe this is certainly the
finest. One seems to be right amongst the snow fields, and the road
sometimes passes between high walls of snow or through sheds built with
great solidity. We stopped one hour for lunch at the village where we
met the automobile going the reverse way, and again later at the foot
of Mt. Kasbec for another half-hour. Kasbec is 16,546 feet in height,
namely, 100 feet higher than Mont Blanc. On its slope there is a typical
Caucasian village, as seen in the sketch. From the time when we started
on the down-hill road, however, we lost all pleasure in the scenery. Our
driver suddenly became utterly reckless under the influence (as we learnt
later on) of pressure brought to bear on him by one of the passengers,
who wanted to arrive early at Vladikavkaz. We simply dashed down the
road and round corners, at the imminent peril of our necks, scattering
horses and carts in wild confusion into the ditch or up banks to what
seemed to be certain destruction. Only once did the chauffeur stop, on
the demand of a man with a rifle; he admitted that he was frightened, for
not long ago the auto had been held up by brigands. It was a momentary
pause, however, and we dashed on as recklessly as before. Finally on
entering the town a horse took fright and dragged its cart into the
ditch, overturning it completely, but the chauffeur merely smiled and
drove on. How thankful we were to draw up safely at last at the Grand
Hotel at Vladikavkaz at 6 P.M. We had some hours to spare before our
train started, so we made our way to the telegraph office in order to
wire home. The polite clerk, in answer to our inquiry, said that it took
much less time to telegraph to England than to any place in Russia, and
that it would probably be delivered in London in an hour’s time; in
point of fact, the telegram was never delivered at all. German we found
the foreign language best understood in Russia, and for the benefit of
inexperienced travellers I will conclude my volume with a brief account
of our crossing the frontier.
[Illustration: MOUNT KASBEC]
At Tiflis we gave up our passports (according to regulation) to the
hotel-keeper, stating where we had come from and our next halting place,
namely Vienna. The police have to put their official signatures on
the passport wherever you stop on Russian soil, but also in addition
something further when you wish to leave the country, and every time the
passport is visé-ed the traveller has to pay. We presumed that this had
been properly done at Tiflis, having paid for it, but when we reached
Volochisk and the officials came for all the passengers’ passports,
they looked at ours and returned them to us in a rough, surly way,
saying something that we could not understand, instead of carrying them
off with the others. Every one was locked up in the train, and in due
course of time the officials returned with the passports and gave them
back to their owners. They pointed us to the door, and proceeded to put
our luggage out. A lady from an adjoining carriage came and explained
the situation; the passports had not been properly signed for leaving
the country, and we should have to telegraph to the police at Tiflis
before we should be allowed to leave. “How long will it take?” we asked
in dismay. “Oh! not more than three or four days!” We inquired if
there was no method of tipping by which we could escape such a dismal
prospect, but she was emphatic in denying it. She suggested, however,
that by treble payment we could send a quick telegram instead of a
slow one, and she got her husband to go and explain our sad condition
to the officer in charge of the station. He was fortunately able to
speak a little German, and he ordered an underling to go and write the
necessary telegram to the police at Tiflis. The little colonel was in
full regimentals, and wore spurs, and the station had a military guard;
he had to be there on arrival of every train apparently, and acted as
stationmaster. He reassured us by saying that we might hope for an answer
in the course of the afternoon (it was now about ten in the morning),
in which case we could take the evening train to Vienna. We had the
melancholy satisfaction of finding that we were not the only people whose
passports were unsatisfactory; in fact no one seemed surprised about it
except ourselves. We tried to beguile the weary hours by watching the
custom-house officials enjoying themselves over the parcel post; a number
of muslin dress lengths were unpacked and inspected, as well as sundry
other things. The restaurant was a source of amusement as well as comfort
to us, and was far superior to an English one at a similar station. At
long intervals trains arrived, and we visited the telegraph office from
time to time.
We studied the “toilette” that went on in the ladies’ waiting-room, and
when night came and still no answer, we debated what to do next. At
9.30 we saw our hopes of a comfortable bed next night disappear, but
we still felt it would be well to leave at 2.30 A.M. if fate permitted.
The “hotel,” a small cottage within sight of the station, we did not
fancy, so we resigned ourselves to the small rest obtainable on a wooden
bench and the window ledge. Every time a train arrived the colonel
appeared also, and I fear he got rather tired of our polite request for
information; the importunate widow would have had no chance with him.
What an extraordinary occupation for an officer; but he sought to beguile
the time by hob-nobbing with the large staff of employees who, doubtless
for an absurdly small wage, spend most of the twenty-four hours loafing
about the railway.
At last the night ended, and we saw with pity a group of emigrants trying
to breakfast under a dull drizzling sky opposite the station. A friendly
porter gave us the news we were longing for—a telegram had arrived. No
words can express our delight, for we seemed to know every stone of that
railway platform, and we rushed to the office to demand our passports,
of which the officials had taken possession. Our detention had lasted
twenty-four hours, and as we shook the dust from our feet we failed
not to be thankful for the Providence which caused us to be citizens
of a land of liberty instead of tyranny. It is only in Russia that one
thoroughly realises it; and the irksomeness of it becomes intolerable.
“Implicit obedience, silent subjection, and the irresistible power of
despotism are here brought home effectively to the stranger. But this
impression remains with the traveller throughout the entire journey—
‘Be silent; keep yourselves in curb—
We are watched in look and word.’
An Empire of one hundred and thirty millions of prisoners and of one
million gaolers—such is Russia.”
FOOTNOTES
[1] Whigham’s “Manchuria and Korea,” pp. 117-119, 153, 49.
[2] This wise policy has been consistently carried out ever since. In
1878 there was not a single Manchu governor or viceroy of any of the
eighteen provinces of China. (Ross, p. 566.)
[3] When it was made known at the opening of the hospital that more
furnishings were required, many gifts, both in money and requisites, were
at once contributed, while two merchants told the doctor to apply to them
for money as it was needed, which he did several times till the hospital
was completed.
[4] Dr. Arthur Smith, the well-known authority on Chinese customs, told
me that the reason for the non-burial of children in China is due to
the fact that they are not recognised as an integral part of the family
till after marriage. Consequently it is not uncommon to marry them after
death, in order to be able to give them an adopted son to perpetuate the
family, and to offer worship at the ancestral shrine. In one case of
which he knew, the corpse of the bride was carried with great pomp to
the village where the bridegroom had lived, and they were both buried
together.
[5] Kûfic is the name given to the characters in which the Koran was
originally written; it ceased to be used after the tenth century.
[6] Hakluyt Society’s Publications, “The Voyage of Friar William de
Rubruquis,” p. 166.
[7] _Samarkande la bien gardée_, by Durrieux and Fauvelle, p. 183.
[8] Arnold’s “Preaching of Islam,” p. 185.
[9] See “The Heart of Asia: a History of Russian Turkestan and the
Central Asian Khanates from the Earliest Times,” by F. H. Skrine and E.
D. Ross.
INDEX
Abdullah, 190
Afforestation, 177
Afghanistan, 226, 230
Agriculture in Korea, 125
in Siberia, 173
Alexander the Great, 203
American Missions, 68, 80
Amir of Bokhara, 201, 203, 221
Amu Daria, 183
Amur region, 158
Ancestor worship, 70, 86
Angara River, 155
An-san, 103
Antung, 58, 61, 73
Aphrosiab, 219
Arabian Invasion, Turkestan, 223
Mohammedanism, 223
Aral Sea, 174, 175
Arctic Ocean, 162, 163
Arithmetic, 38
Arnold, 223
Asceticism, Mohammedan, 224
Ashekhabat, 160
Ashiho, Ch. xiii.
Askabad, 230
Astor House, Moukden, 31
Australasia, 38
Australian Presbyterians, 79, 108
Azerbijana, 198
Baber, 195
Baghdad, 195
Baikal, Lake, 154, 159, 162
Bajazet, Sultan, 200
Baku, 231-233
Balak Nani, 223
Balkh, 223
Baltic fleet, 112
Baptists, 233
Baths, Chinese, 142
Sulphur, 234
Bazaars, 185, 214, 226
Behren, 22
Beng, 226
Bibi Khanum, 209-213
Little, 210, 213
Bible Society, B. and F., 161, 173, 174, 222, 233
Study, 38, 75, 77, 82
Women, 77, 143
Black Sea, 169, 174
Blanc, Edouard, 191, 218
Blanc, Mont, 236
Blind, 49, 81
Bokhara, Ch. xx., 176, 183, 201, 208, 215, 218
Boxers, 22, 23
Braille, 81
Bronzes, 21, 22
Broussa, 201
Browning, 175
Brugnière, Monseigneur, 89, 90
Brugsch, 234
Buddhism, 45, 70
Buddhists, 48, 49, 57, 159
Buriats, 159-162
Burkans, 160
Bushnell, 21
Camels, 214, 227
Cano, Empress, 198, 199, 209-213
Capus, 172, 182
Carpets, 209, 217
Carts in Turkestan, 181
Caspian Sea, 175, 231
Catherine of Russia, 223
Caucasus, Ch. xxi.
Chang Chun, 8
Chang Shan, 47, 51
Chéliabinsk, 166
Chemkend, 183
Chemulpo, 134-137
Chiao, Mr., 67, 114, 122, 130, 133, 177
Child burial, 42, 43
“Chinese Art,” 21
generosity, 25, 27
industry, 125
windows, 101
writing, 63, 68, 121, 124
Ching dynasty, 18
Christie, Dr., 23, 26
Church, Chemulpo, 136
Liao Yang, 40, Ch. iv., 56
Moukden, 22
Pyöng Yang, 74-77
Tiflis, 233
Citadel of Samarkand, 201, 203
Clavijo, 195, 197, 199, 210
College, Union, 78, 79
Colonisation, Manchuria, 6, 34
Siberia, 158
Colporteurs, 173, 174
Commercial college, 55
Concessions, timber, 73
mining, 61
Confucianism, 70, 77
Conference, Edinburgh World Missionary, 50, 80
Constantinople, 186
Consul, English, 17, 20, 141
Convicts, 155, 158
Cossacks, 165, 230
Court life, Korea, 96-101
Crops in Manchuria, 7, 45
Korea, 107
Crown Prince, Korea, 98-99
Princess, 99
Crypt, Tamerlane’s Tomb, 192
Currency, 33, 40, 213
Custom-house, 151, 152, 238
Curtin, Jeremiah, 159-162
Dallet, Père, 92
Dalny, 138-140
Steamer to, 134, 135
Damascus, 200
Danish Lutheran Mission, 27
Daveluy, 91
“Deer’s horns,” 22, 29
Delhi, 195, 196
Diamond Mountains, Ch. xii.
Dnieper River, 174
Don River, 174
Doolittle, 31
Durrieux, 212
Ear-muffs, 5, 26
Education, Korea, 53, 61, 79, 81, 128, 129
Manchuria, 28, 37, 38
Medical, 27
Moslem, 145, 204-208, 223, 224
Russian, 164, 165, 182, 206
Siberia, 162, 164
Theological, Korea, 79
Elephants, 198
Elms, 178, 215
Emperor, late Chinese, 23
Korean, 73, 96-100, 102
Empress Cano, 198-200, 209-213
late Dowager, China, 23
Min, Korea, 98-102
Emigrants, Chinese, 34
English language, 140
Eunuchs, 97, 99, 101
Execution, 144, 208
Exiles, 233
“Face of Korea,” 65-148
Fauvelle, 212
Flowers, Caucasus, 235
Korea, 107, 117, 123
Manchuria, 52
Foo Ling tombs, 12, 16-19
Fox temples, 31, 32, 45
Fusan, Ch. xi.
Gale, Dr., 103
Genghiz Khan, 145, 194, 195, 204
Geography, 38
Georgians, 234, 235
German Church, 233
language, 140, 188, 237
Giggies, 67
“Gluttonous Place,” 208
Gold mining, 63, 156
Grain market, 213
Gur Amir, 189-192
Hazret, 175
Hazréti Shah Zindeh, 215-217
Hazréti Timur mosque, 175
“Heart of Asia,” 229
Hell, Temple of, 32, 48
Herbelot, 205
Hingking, 12
Hissar, 214
_Histoire de l’Église de Korée_, 84
Holden, 195
“Home of Tamerlane,” Ch. xviii.
Horse sacrifice, 160
Hospitals: Hsin Muntun, 34, 35
Chemulpo, 136, 137
Liao Yang, 48
Moukden, 23-28
Hotels: Astor House, Moukden, 31
Commercial, Kazan, 220
d’Europe, Kazan, 220
Baku, 232
de France, Tashkent, 178
Grand, Samarkand, 188
Vladikavkaz, 236
Londres, Tiflis, 233
Russian, Kharbin, 3
Yamato, Kwan-cheng-tze, 8
Hsin Muntun, 25, Ch. iii.
Hulan, Ch. i., 142
“Hunger Desert,” 188
Immigrants, 174
India, 194-196, 198, 226
International Sleeping Car, 148, 152
Invocation, Buriat, 160, 161
Iranian, 184
Irish Presbyterian, 27
Irkutsk, 155-157, 164
Irtish River, 164
Ishan, 224
Islam, 194, 196, 218, 222, 224, 226
Ito, Prince, 106
Ivan the Terrible, 194
Jade, 21, 191
Jagatai, 185
Japanese banks, 104, 105, 138
inns, 60, 61
occupation of Korea, 105
of Dalny, 138, 139
officers, 59, 107, 131
steamers, 111, 134, 137
trade, 139
traveller, 59, 60
war, Korea, 85
Russia, 42, 43, 73
Jaxartes, 175
Jenkinson, 231
Jesuits, 85, 146
Jews, 145, 156
“Journey in Southern Siberia,” 161
Kaaba, 216
Karagatch, 215
Kasbec, Mount, 236
_Katholische Missions Statistik_, 92
Kazan, 176, 220, 221, 228
Kelan, 227
Keuk Tash, 201
Kharbin, 3, 4, 57, 141, 148, 167, 178
Khiva, 122, 183
Khojend, 183, 185
Khokand, 183, 226
Khorasan, 194
Ki Cha, 68, 71, 72
Kil Moksa, 77, 78
Kim, André, 91
Kinel, 167-169
Kirghiz, 165, 172, 175
Steppes, 172
Kitchener, 45
Kite-flying, 46
Kobdo, 163
Koran, 189, 206, 212, 216, 225, 229
Korea, history, 72, 73
population, 62, 63
size, 62
war with China, 73
Japan, 85
Korean education, 63, 79, 81, 128, 129
dress, 71, 76, 94, 96, 100
gate, Liao Yang, 42, 43
generosity, 80, 83
hats, 69
official life, 96, 97
products, 63, 107
script, 63
shops, 68
“Sketches,” 103
water-carriers, 69
Krasnojarsk, 162
Krasnovodsk, 231
Krapotkin, 164, 184
Krose, 92
Kûfic, 190
Kurgan, 166
“Kuropatkin’s Eye,” 44
Kwan-cheng-tze, 6, 40
Land nationalisation, 157, 158
Li Dsuchung, 13
Liao Tong, 42, 138
Liao Yang, 12, 40, Ch. iv.
Lobanoff, 73
Long White Mountains, 23
Louis, Saint, 197
Madressah, 187, 223
Bibi Khanum, 209-213, 216
El Azhar, 223
Ishrak Khaneh, 219
Khodja Akhrar, 219
Shir Dar, 207
Tilla Kari, 204, 208, 209
Timur Malik, 219
Uleg Beg, 204-207
Manchester, 214
Manchus, The, 11-15, 42
Manchu dress, 14, 36
dynasty, 11, 12, 14, 43
history, 11-15
inns, 52
marriage, 15
policy, 13
Manchuria town, 3
“Manchuria’s Strategic Railway,” 59
Medical Missions, 23-28, 48, 142, 143
assistants, 26, 48, 137
training college, 26, 27
Medicines, Chinese, 46, 47
Merv, 222
Mesnevi, 225
Methodist Episcopal, 80
Ming dynasty, 13, 20
tombs, 19, 20
Mining concessions, 63
Mission, American Methodist Episcopal, 80, 81
American Presbyterian, 79
Australian Presbyterian, 79, 108
Canadian Presbyterian, 79
Danish Lutheran, 27
Greek Orthodox Church, 161, 165, 222
Irish Presbyterian, 29, 36-39
Scotch Presbyterian 7, 27, 48, 50
Roman Catholic, 64, Ch. x., 104, 136
Salvation Army, 104
Swedish Mission, 221, 233
Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, 89, 136, 137
“Missions Etrangères,” 89
Mistletoe, 18, 19
Moffett, Dr., 79
“Mogul Emperors of Hindustan,” 195
Mohammedan mosques, 145, 185, 186, 219, 226, 227
schools, 145, 187, 204-208
Mohammedanism, China, 145, 146
Bokhara, 223, 224, 229
Siberia, 165, 166, 171
Turkestan, 185, 186, 206, 225, 226, 229
Monasteries, 52, 53, 57, 121
Mongol customs, 160
empire, 195
raids, 194, 223
Monks, 53, 56, 57, 120-122
Moscow, 214, 226
Moukden, Ch. ii., 58
Mullah, 191, 206, 215, 224
Museums, 22, 60
Nadir Shah, 191
Naval commission, 26
battle, 112, 136
Nestorian Church, 222
Newchwang, 25, 55
New Hebrides, 109
Nippon Yusen Kaisha, 137
Noorhachu, 11, 12, 18
Officers, Japanese, 59, 107, 123, 124, 131
Russian, 238, 239
Oil fields, 232
Omsk, 164
Ongons, 159
Orenburg, 166, 171
Orthodox Church, 161, 165, 222
Othman, 212
Oxus River, 183
Oyama, General, 25
Pailow, 19
Palace, Moukden, 20-22
Samarkand, 211-213, 215, 216
Seoul, 93-102
Parsees, 232
Passports, 237, 239
Peasants, Russian, 172, 173
Pedlars, Korean, 129
Peking, 13-15, 19, 43, 168
Permits, 176
Persians, 185, 201, 209, 228
architecture, 189, 190, 198
Petropavlosk, 165
Pichtack, 205
Piek-i, 85, 86
Pioneer Point, 71
Police, Russian, 176, 237-239
Poplars, 178, 215
Population, Korea, 62, 63
Siberia, 157, 158
Tashkent, 181
Tiflis, 234
Porcelain, 21, 22
Port Nicolas, 73
“Preaching of Islam,” 223
Presbyterians, 7, 27, 34-37, 79, 108
Prisons, 88, 155, 224
Protestant Missions, 64, 73
Psalm reader, 165
Pyöng Yang, 62, Ch. vii., viii.
Raleigh, Sir Walter, 21
Railway, Japanese, 8, 40, 51, Ch. vi., 105, 107, 108, 135
Russian, 8, 167, 173, 174, 220
South Manchurian, 34, 35
Trans-Siberian, Ch. xv.
International Sleeping Car Co., 152, 153, 157
Russian State Express, 152, 153, 157, 166
Red Cross, 25, 174, 222
Reftari khiraman, 225
Refugees, Moukden, 24
Reis, 224
Remedios, Jean dos, 87
Righistan, 204, 212
Ritual worship, 21
Roman Catholics, 64, Ch. ix., 104
Ross, Dr., 13
Rubruquis, de, 197-199
Russians, 203, 217, 221, 229, 230
occupation (Moukden), 23
police, 176, 237-239
Russo-Japanese war, 42, 73, 136
Sacrée Congrégation de la Propagande, 89
Saïd, Mir Berke, 191
Sámánids, 204
Samara, 167
Samarkand, 183, 187, Ch. xix., 222
_la bien gardée_, 212, 218
Sarts, 184, 202, 203, 206, 218
Schools, 37, 38, 81, 129, 145, 164, 187, 204-208
Seminary, Paris, 92
Senghoun-i, 85, 86
Seoul, Ch. x., 131, 132, 134, 135
“Seven Hates,” 11, 12
Shahr-i-Sabz, 193
Shamanism, 70, 159
Sheep, Kirghiz Steppes, 172
Shimonoseki, 110
Shinto, 110
Shops, 16, 68, 69, 180, 214
Siberia, 154-170
climate, 154
crops, 159
land tenure, 158
missions, 165
native inhabitants, 159, 165
population, 157, 158, 162
size, 158
trade, 156
Silks, 210, 214
Skrine, 229
Slavery, 225, 229
Smith, Dr. Arthur, 43 _note_
“Social Life of the Chinese,” 31
Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, 104, 136, 137
Songdo, 81
South Kensington Museum, 22
Storks, 184, 227
Stundists, 233
Sulphur baths, 234
Sungari River, 3, 5
Sunnites, 224
Surakhany, 232
Swedish Mission, 221, 233
Syr Daria, 175, 200
Taidsoo, 12
Taiga, 164
Tamerlane, 175, Ch. xviii., 201, 204
Tang Shan, 25
Taoist temple, 54
Tartars, 162
Tashkent, 168, 170, 176, Ch. xvii., 203, 206
Ta-tsing, 13
“Ten Parts Imperfect One,” 48
Teragai, 193
Tide, Korea, 112
Tientsin, 91
Tiflis, 232-234
Time-table, 169
Tobolsk, 165
Tombs, Daniel’s, 217, 218
Korean, 71, 102-104
Ming, 13, 19, 20
Moukden, 12, 16-19, 28-30
Shah Zindeh’s, 215, 216
Tamerlane’s, 189-193
Tomsk, 163, 164, 174
Tonghak, 73
Toprach, 219
Tortoise, 19
Trans-Baikal, 154
Translation Society, 162
Trans-Siberian Railway, Ch. xv.
Travel hints, 132, 133, 152, 153, 237
“Travels in Central Asia,” 226
Tschagu Tschiendogu, 120
Tschang Do, 125
Tsiou, 87, 88
Turanians, 223
“Turkestan, Into,” Ch. xvi.
history, 183
town, 175
Turks, 200
Tycho-Brahé, 205
Tyenaga, 59
Uhér, 160
Uleg Beg, 204, 205
Union Medical College, Moukden, 27
Union Theological Seminary, 78, 79
United Free Church of Scotland, 27
Un Mun, 61
Usturdi, 160, 161
Uzbegs, 175, 185
Vambéry, 190, 223, 225
Vienna, 169, 232, 233
Vladivostock, 146, 162, 166
Volga, 174
Volochisk, 233, 237-239
“Voyage of Friar William de Rubruquis,” 198
Wagons Lits, 183
War god, 70
Water carriers, 70
Watering roads, 183, 184
Waterproofs, 131
Waterworks, Japanese, 70
Westwater, Dr., 46
White Sea, 174
Wiju, 59
Wolff, 224
Woman, 186
Women’s Mission Work, 27, 28, 77, 142-144, 222
Wonsan, 108, 111
X-rays, 25
Xavier, Francis, 146
Yalu River, 59
Yamaga, 73
Yamato Hotel, Dalny, 138
Kwan-cheng-tze, 6
Yenisei River, 162, 163
Young, Dr., 17
Young Men’s Christian Association, 104, 132
Yun, Hon. T. H., 61
Zenedjin’s Tomb, 184
Zenghiata’s Tomb, 184
Zoological Gardens, 104
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
Edinburgh & London
=Transcriber’s Note:= The following errata slip was contained in this
book, and the change has been made:
On p. 188, line 2 of text, _for_ known as, _read_ as bare as.
[Illustration: CENTRAL ASIA]