We halted for the night at a small village called Killa-i-Kazee, and,

at our first outset, experienced the influence and utility of our

Cafila-bashee. He cleared out a house for us, by bribing a Moollah to

leave it; and we found the quarters very snug, for it was piercingly

cold. Our friend Hyat was a good-humoured man, and we made the

reasonable bargain with him, that he was to be rewarded according to

his merits, of which we were to be the judges. We committed ourselves

to him as a bale of goods, and desired him to march as he thought

best. I gave him my few books and instruments, which he passed off

as part of the property of the Jewish families who had left Cabool

in the preceding year. Prudence dictated our proceeding very quietly

in this part of our journey; and we were now designated “Meerza,”

or secretary, a common appellation in these countries, and which

we ever after retained. The Dr. allowed his title to slumber: but

it was soon apparent that we should have been helpless without our

conductor; for, on the following morning, a fellow possessing some

little authority seized my horse’s bridle, and demanded a sight of

the contents of my saddle-bags. I was proceeding with all promptness

to display my poverty, when a word from the Cafila-bashee terminated

the investigation. We were not here recognised as Europeans by any

one, which certainly gave a pleasing liberty to our actions. Among

the contraband goods, for which the officers of the Custom-house were

desired to search, was the singular article of Korans; for it appeared

that the traders had exported so many of these good books beyond Hindoo

Koosh, that the “Faithful” in Afghanistan were likely to be robbed of

the whole of them. The suppression of the trade was a highly popular

act on the part of the chief of Cabool; since they are very expensive

works, written with great pains and labour, and most valuable.

~Julraiz.~

~Valley of the Cabool river.~

We left the road which leads to Candahar on our left, and proceeded

up the valley of the Cabool river to its source at Sirchushma. Our

first halting place was Julraiz, which is so called from two Persian

words that signify running water; and near the village there were two

beautifully clear brooks, the banks of which were shaded by trees. It

is these running rivulets that make this country so enchanting, in

spite of its bleak rocks. The valley was not above a mile in breadth,

and most industriously cultivated; the water being in some places

conducted for a hundred feet up hill. In the lower lands, the rice

fields rose most picturesquely in gradation above each other, and hills

on either side were topped with snow. The thermometer stood at 60°.

~Fish preserve.~

At Sirchushma, which literally means the fountain-head, we visited

two natural ponds, the sources of the river of Cabool, replenished by

springs, and formed into preserves for fish, which are kept with great

care. It is a place of pilgrimage sacred to Ali, who is said to have

visited it,--a “pious lie,” which is not supported by any authority,

since the son-in-law of Mahommed never saw Cabool, though his reputed

deeds in this neighbourhood be both numerous and wonderful. We fed the

fish with bread, which disappeared in a moment, torn from our hands

by some thousands of them: they are molested by no one, since it is

believed that a curse rests on the head of an intruder.

~Ghuzni.~

Before entering the valley of the river, we left the famous Ghuzni to

the south: it is only sixty miles from Cabool. This ancient capital

is now a dependency on that city, and a place of small note: it

contains the tomb of the great Mahmood, its founder. There is a more

honourable monument to his memory in a magnificent dam, constructed

at a great expense, and the only one of seven now remaining. It is

worthy of remark, that the ruler of the Punjab, in a negociation which

he lately carried on with the ex-King of Cabool, Shooja ool Moolk,

stipulated, as one of the conditions of his restoration to the throne

of his ancestors, that he should deliver up the sandal-wood gates at

the shrine of the Emperor Mahmood,--being the same which were brought

from Somnat, in India, when that destroyer smote the idol, and the

precious stones fell from his body. Upwards of eight hundred years have

elapsed since the spoliation, but the Hindoo still remembers it, though

these doors have so long adorned the tomb of the Sultan Mahmood. Baber

expresses his wonder that so great a monarch should have ever made

Ghuzni his capital; but the natives will tell you that the cold renders

it inaccessible for some months in the year, which gave him greater

confidence while desolating Hindostan and the land of the infidels.

~Pass of Oonna.~

We wound up the valley, which became gradually narrower till we reached

a level tract on the mountains,--the pass of Oonna,--the ascent to

which is guarded by three small forts. Before reaching the summit,

we first encountered the snow, with which I was too happy to claim

acquaintance after a separation of a dozen winters; though there were

no companions with whom I could renew the frolics of youth. It snowed

as we crossed the pass, which is about 11,000 feet high; and at length

we found ourselves, with pleasure, at a small village, free from the

chilling wind which blew all day. We had already made considerable

progress in our mountain journey: the rivers now ran in opposite

directions; and our advance had brought us into the cold country of the

Huzaras, where the peasants were only ploughing and sowing, while we

had seen the harvest home at Peshawur, and the grain in ear at Cabool.

~Effects of snow.~

We continued our mountain journey by the base of the lofty and

ever-snow-clad mountain of Koh i Baba, which is a remarkable ridge,

having three peaks that rise to the height of about 18,000 feet. On

the evening of the 21st of May, we reached the bottom of the pass of

Hajeeguk, half dead with fatigue, and nearly blind from the reflection

of the snow. For about ten miles we had travelled in the bed of a

rivulet, that was knee deep, formed by melting snow, which we crossed

more than twenty times. We then entered the region of the snow, which

still lay deep on the ground: by noon it became so soft that our horses

sunk into it, threw their burdens and riders, and in several places

were, with the utmost difficulty, extricated. That part of the ground

which was free from snow had become saturated with the melted water,

and a quagmire; so that we alternately waded through mud and snow. The

heat was oppressive,--I imagine from reflection; I had quite lost the

use of my eyes, and the skin peeled from my nose, before we reached a

little fort under the pass, at which we alighted in the evening with a

Huzara family.

~A family of Huzaras.~

We had here an opportunity of seeing the Huzaras in their native state

among the mountains; and were received by an old lady, in a miserable

flat-roofed house, partly below ground, with two or three openings

in the roof, as windows. She was taking care of her grandchild, and

bade us welcome, by the lordly name of “Agha.” I called her “Mother;”

and the old dame chatted about her house and family matters. We were

taken for Persians; and, since the Huzaras are of the same creed as

that nation, were honoured guests. Our mendicant garb could lead to no

discovery that we were Europeans. The old woman assured us that the

snow prevented them from stirring out of their houses for six months

in the year (for it never rains), and that they sowed the barley in

June, and reaped it in September. These people have no money, and are

almost ignorant of its value. We got every thing from them by barter,

and had no occasion to show them gold, by which Englishmen are so soon

found out in every country. A traveller among them can only purchase

the necessaries of life by giving a few yards of coarse cloth, a little

tobacco, pepper, or sugar, which are here appreciated far above their

value. The Huzaras are a simple-hearted people, and differ much from

the Afghan tribes. In physiognomy, they more resemble Chinese, with

their square faces and small eyes. They are Tartars by descent, and

one of their tribes is now called Tatar Huzaras. There is a current

belief that they bestow their wives on their guests, which is certainly

erroneous. The women have great influence, and go unveiled: they are

handsome, and not very chaste; which has perhaps given rise to the

scandal among their Soonee neighbours, who detest them as heretics.

Were their country not strong, they would soon be extirpated; for

they have enemies in every direction. The good matron, who gave us an

asylum from the snow and frost, tendered also her advice for my eyes,

which she said had been _burned_ by the snow. She recommended the use

of antimony, which I applied with the pencil, much to the improvement

of my appearance, as she informed me; but I can more surely add, to my

relief and comfort when I again encountered the snow.

~Goître.~

I observed that these mountaineers, though some of them were living at

elevations of 10,000 feet, were altogether free from that unseemly

disease, the goître, which I had observed in the same range--the

Himalaya, eastward of the Indus, even below 4000 feet. Perhaps

bronchocele is a disease confined to the lesser altitudes; an opinion

held by members of the faculty of the first eminence on the Continent,

as I find from a paper in the Transactions of the Medical Society of

Calcutta, by Dr. M. J. Bramley, of the Bengal army. That gentleman,

however, in his treatise on the disease, which is founded on personal

experience during a residence in the mountainous regions of Nipal,

adduces facts that would lead to a contrary conclusion regarding its

locality, which he states to be more general on the crest of a high

mountain than in the valley of Nipal.

~Ali Illahi.~

One would have imagined, that, in these elevated and dreary regions,

the inhabitants would be engaged with other subjects than abstruse

points of theology. A moollah, or priest, however, had lately appeared

among them to proclaim some novel doctrines; and, among others, that

Ali was the Deity, and greater than Mahommed himself. He had found some

hundred followers, whom this fanatic had impressed with such an opinion

of his power, that they believed he could raise the dead, and pass

through fire without injury. One of the Huzara chiefs, who was shocked

at the blasphemy of this false prophet, had preached a crusade against

him for misleading the faithful; and many of the people accompanied

him to assist in reclaiming the deluded to Islam. They informed us

that this sect was styled “Ali Illahi,” and had adopted many odious

customs; among others, that of the community of women: they also held

bacchanalian orgies in the dark, from which they were named “Chiragh

Koosh,” or lamp-killers, in allusion to the darkness which concealed

their iniquities. Such a sect, I am assured, is not at all novel, since

the Mogots of Cabool have long since professed some of its tenets, and

still secretly practise them. It is also known in several parts of

Persia and Turkey; but the march of intellect had not hitherto extended

it to the gelid regions of Hindoo Koosh.

~Yezdan Bukhsh Huzara.~

The crusade of the Huzaras proved a fortunate circumstance for us, as

the chieftain of 12,000 families, and of these passes, by name Yezdan

Bukhsh, was absent upon it; and he is a person who acknowledges but a

doubtful allegiance to Cabool. By the kindness of Hajee Khan Kauker, we

were introduced to him; but the report of his character did not lead

us to hope for more than common civility, if we even received that. We

escaped, however, in the religious turmoil, after waiting for an hour

at the door of the fort, and each of us paying a rupee as tax to his

deputy, since we were not Mahommedans. Our letter might, perhaps, have

prevailed on the Huzaras to let us pass at this cheap rate; but it was

long before they adjusted the demand with the Cafila-bashee, who gave

me many a significant glance during the treaty. The doctor and myself

sought no closer connection than a look at these mountaineers; but, as

it appeared, we were altogether unworthy of their notice.

~Pass of Hajeeguk and Kaloo.~

After a night’s rest, and the friendly advice of the Huzara matron, we

commenced the ascent of the pass of Hajeeguk, which was about 1000 feet

above us, and 12,400 feet from the sea. We took our departure early in

the morning of the 22d of May; the frozen snow bore our horses, and

we reached the summit before the sun’s influence had softened it. The

thermometer fell 4 degrees below the freezing point; the cold was very

oppressive, though we were clad in skins with the fur inside. I often

blessed the good Nawab of Cabool, who had forced a pelisse of otter

skin upon me, that proved most useful. The passage was not achieved

without adventure, for there was no road to guide us through the snow;

and the surveyor, Mahommed Ali, along with his horse, went rolling

down a declivity, one after the other, for about thirty yards. This

exhibition in front, served to guide the rear to a better path; but

it was impossible to resist laughing at the Jack and Jill expedition

of the poor surveyor and his horse; he, a round figure wrapped up in

fur, and far outstripping his long-shanked animal, which made deeper

indentations in the snow. We were now about to commence the ascent

of the pass of Kaloo, which is still 1000 feet higher than that of

Hajeeguk; but our progress was again arrested by snow. We doubled it,

by passing round its shoulder, and took a side path through a valley,

watered by a tributary of the Oxus, which led us to Bameean.

~Mountain scenery.~

Nothing could be more grand than the scenery which we met in this

valley. Frightful precipices hung over us; and many a fragment beneath

informed us of their instability. For about a mile it was impossible

to proceed on horseback, and we advanced on foot, with a gulf beneath

us. The dell presented a beautiful section of the mountains to the eye

of the geologist[18]; and, though a by-path, appeared to have been

fortified in former years, as innumerable ruins testified. Some of

these were pointed out as the remnants of the post-houses of the Mogul

emperors; but by far the greater number were assigned to the age of

Zohak, an ancient king of Persia. One castle in particular, at the

northern termination of the valley, and commanding the gorge, had been

constructed with great labour on the summit of a precipice, and was

ingeniously supplied with water. It would be useless to record all the

fables of the people regarding these buildings.

[Illustration: Page 183. Pl. II. Vol. 1.

THE COLOSSAL IDOLS AT BAMEEAN.

On Stone by L. Haghe for Burnes’ Travels into Bokhara

Day & Haghe Lith^{rs} to the King, Gate S^t.

J. Murray Albemarle S^t. 1834.]

~Bameean excavated city.~

Bameean is celebrated for its colossal idols and innumerable

excavations, which are to be seen in all parts of the valley, for about

eight miles, and still form the residence of the greater part of the

population. They are called “Soomuch” by the people. A detached hill

in the middle of the valley is quite honeycombed by them, and brings

to our recollection the Troglodites of Alexander’s historians. It is

called the city of Ghoolghoola, and consists of a continued succession

of caves in every direction, which are said to have been the work of a

king named Julal. The hills at Bameean are formed of indurated clay and

pebbles, which renders their excavation a matter of little difficulty;

but the great extent to which it has been carried, excites attention.

Caves are dug on both sides of the valley, but the greater number lie

on the northern face, where we found the idols: altogether they form an

immense city. Labourers are frequently hired to dig in them; and their

trouble is rewarded by rings, relics, coins, &c. They generally bear

Cufic inscriptions, and are of a later date than the age of Mahommed.

These excavated caves, or houses, have no pretensions to architectural

ornament, being no more than squared holes in the hill. Some of them

are finished in the shape of a dome, and have a carved frieze below

the point, from which the cupola springs. The inhabitants tell many

remarkable tales of the caves of Bameean; one in particular--that a

mother had lost her child among them, and recovered it after a lapse of

twelve years! The tale need not be believed; but it will convey an idea

of the extent of the works. There are excavations on all sides of the

idols; and below the larger one, half a regiment might find quarters.

Bameean is subject to Cabool: it would appear to be a place of high

antiquity; and is, perhaps, the city which Alexander founded at the

base of Paropamisus, before entering Bactria. The country, indeed, from

Cabool to Balkh, is yet styled “Bakhtur Zumeen,” or Bakhtur country.

The name of Bameean is said to be derived from its elevation,--“bam”

signifying balcony, and the affix “eean” country. It may be so called

from the caves rising one over another in the rock.

~Idols of Bameean.~

There are no relics of Asiatic antiquity which have roused the

curiosity of the learned more than the gigantic idols of Bameean. It

is fortunately in my power to present a drawing of these images. They

consist of two figures, a male and a female; the one named Silsal, the

other Shahmama. The figures are cut in alto relievo on the face of the

hill, and represent two colossal images. The male is the larger of the

two, and about 120 feet high. It occupies a front of 70 feet; and the

niche in which it is excavated, extends about that depth into the hill.

This idol is mutilated; both legs having been fractured by cannon; and

the countenance above the mouth is destroyed. The lips are very large;

the ears long and pendent; and there appears to have been a tiara on

the head. The figure is covered by a mantle, which hangs over it in all

parts, and has been formed of a kind of plaster; the image having been

studded with wooden pins in various places, to assist in fixing it. The

figure itself is without symmetry, nor is there much elegance in the

drapery. The hands, which held out the mantle, have been both broken.

The female figure is more perfect than the male, and has been dressed

in the same manner. It is cut in the same hill, at a distance of 200

yards, and is about half the size. It was not to be discovered whether

the smaller idol was a brother or son of the Colossus, but from the

information of the natives. The sketch which is attached will convey

better notions of these idols than a more elaborate description. The

square and arched apertures which appear in the plate represent the

entrance of the different caves or excavations; and through these there

is a road which leads to the summit of both the images. In the lower

caves, the caravans to and from Cabool generally halt; and the upper

ones are used as granaries by the community.

I have now to note the most remarkable curiosity in the idols of

Bameean. The niches of both have been at one time plastered, and

ornamented with paintings of human figures, which have now disappeared

from all parts but that immediately over the heads of the idols. Here

the colours are as vivid, and the paintings as distinct, as in the

Egyptian tombs. There is little variety in the design of these figures;

which represent the bust of a woman, with a knob of hair on the head,

and a plaid thrown half over the chest; the whole surrounded by a halo,

and the head again by another halo. In one part, I could trace a groupe

of three female figures following each other. The execution of the work

was indifferent, and not superior to the pictures which the Chinese

make in imitation of an European artist.

The traditions of the people regarding the idols of Bameean are vague

and unsatisfactory. It is stated, that they were excavated about the

Christian era, by a tribe of Kaffirs (infidels), to represent a

king, named Silsal, and his wife, who ruled in a distant country, and

was worshipped for his greatness. The Hindoos assert that they were

excavated by the Pandoos, and that they are mentioned in the great epic

poem of the Mahaburat. Certain it is, that the Hindoos, on passing

these idols, at this day, hold up their hands in adoration: they do not

make offerings; and the custom may have fallen into disuse since the

rise of Islam. I am aware that a conjecture attributes these images to

the Boodhists; and the long ears of the great figure render the surmise

probable. I did not trace any resemblance to the colossal figures in

the caves of Salsette, near Bombay; but the shape of the head is not

unlike that of the great trifaced idol of Elephanta. At Manikyala, in

the Punjab, near the celebrated “tope,” I found a glass or cornelian

antique, which exactly resembles this head. In the paintings over the

idols I observed a close resemblance to the images of the Jain temples

in Western India, on Mount Aboo, Girnar, and Politana in Kattywar. I

judge the figures to be female; but they are very rude; though the

colours in which they are sketched are bright and beautiful. There is

nothing in the images of Bameean to evince any great advancement in the

arts, or what the most common people might not have easily executed.

They cannot, certainly, be referred to the Greek invasion; nor are

they mentioned by any of the historians of Alexander’s expedition. I

find, in the history of Timourlane, that both the idols and excavations

of Bameean are described by Sherif o deen, his historian. The idols

are there stated to be so high that none of the archers could strike

the head. They are called Lat and Munat; two celebrated idols which

are mentioned in the Koran: the writer also alludes to the road which

led up to their summit from the interior of the hill. There are no

inscriptions at Bameean to guide us in their history; and the whole

of the later traditions are so mixed up with Ali, the son-in-law of

Mahommed, who, we well know, never came into this part of Asia, that

they are most unsatisfactory. It is by no means improbable that we owe

the idols of Bameean to the caprice of some person of rank, who resided

in this cave-digging neighbourhood, and sought for an immortality in

the colossal images which we have now described.

~Geographical errors.~

~Leave Afghanistan.~

After a day’s delay at Bameean, where we could not boast of much

hospitality--since we procured a house with difficulty, and were

obliged to quit several that we entered--we set out for Syghan, a

distance of thirty miles. At the pass of Akrobat, which we crossed

half way, we left the dominions of modern Cabool, and entered

Toorkistan, which is denominated Tartary (more properly Tatary) by

Europeans. Following the geography of our maps, I had expected to find

the great snowy mountains beyond us; but we now looked upon them in

range behind. The “Koh i Baba” is the great continuation of Hindoo

Koosh. In our front we had yet to cross a wide belt of mountains,

but they were almost free from snow, and much lower than those which

we had traversed. We were conducted to the pass of Akrobat by twenty

horsemen, which a letter of introduction to the governor of Bameean

from Hajee Khan of Cabool had procured as a protection from the Dih

Zungee Huzaras, who plunder these roads. The escort was mounted on fine

Toorkmun horses, and accompanied by some native greyhounds--a fleet

sort of dog, with long shaggy hair on the legs and body. The party took

their leave on the pass, where we bade farewell to them and the kingdom

of Cabool.

~Uzbek chief of Syghan.~

~Intercourse with him.~

At Syghan we found ourselves in the territory of Mahommed Ali Beg, an

Uzbek, who is alternately subject to Cabool and Koondooz, as the chiefs

of these states respectively rise in power. He satisfies the chief

of Cabool with a few horses, and his Koondooz lord with a few men,

captured in forays by his sons and officers, who are occasionally sent

out for the purpose. Such is the difference between the taste of his

northern and southern neighbours. The captives are Huzaras, on whom

the Uzbeks nominally wage war for their Shiah creed, that they may be

converted to Soonees and good Mahommedans. A friend lately remonstrated

with this chief for his gross infringement of the laws of the Prophet,

in the practice of man-stealing. He admitted the crime; but as God

did not forbid him in his sleep, and his conscience was easy, he said

that he did not see why he should desist from so profitable a traffic!

I should have liked an opportunity to administer a sleeping draught

to this conscience-satisfied Uzbek. He is nowise famed for justice,

or protection of the traveller; a caravan of Jews passed his town

last year, on route to Bokhara, he detained some of their women, and

defended the outrage, by replying to every remonstrance, that their

progeny would become Mahommedan, and justify the act. So this wretch

steals men, and violates the honour of a traveller’s wife, because he

believes it acceptable conduct before his God, and in consonance with

the principles of his creed! Our Cafila-bashee waited on this person,

to report our arrival; and told him, it seems, that we were poor

Armenians. He jested with him, and said we might be Europeans; but our

conductor appealed to a letter of introduction from Cabool, in which

we had not been so denominated. A nankeen pelisse, with eight or nine

rupees (the usual tax on a caravan), satisfied this man-selling Uzbek,

and we passed a comfortable night in a very nicely carpeted “mihman

khana,” or public-house of guests, which is situated at the verge of

the village; the chief himself sending us a leg of venison, as we were

known to his friends in Cabool. We were already in a different country;

the mosques were spread with felts, which indicated greater attention

to matters of religion, and they were also much better buildings.

We were instructed not to sleep with our feet towards Mecca; which

would be evincing our contempt for that holy place; and I ever after

observed the bearings of the compass in-doors, as attentively as I had

hitherto done outside. I also cut the central portion of the hair of my

mustachoes; since the neglect of such a custom would point me out as a

Shiah, and consequently an infidel. We made all these arrangements in

Syghan; which is a pretty place, with fine gardens, though situated in

a dreary valley, destitute of all vegetation beyond its precincts. When

we left it next morning, a man came about 500 yards from the village to

give us the “fatha” or blessing, as is usual in this country; and we

departed, and stroked down our beards with gravity at the honour.

~Feelings on entering Tartary.~

Seeing this rigid adherence to the laws of Mahommed, and the constant

recurrence to the practice of the Koran in every act of life, I was

not disposed to augur favourably for our comfort, or the reliance

which we could place upon the people with whom we were now to mingle.

I thought of the expeditions of Prince Beckevitch, and our own

unfortunate predecessors, poor Moorcroft and his party. The fate

of the Russian Count and his little army is well known; they were

betrayed, and barbarously massacred. The lot of Moorcroft was equally

melancholy; since he and his associates perished of fever, and not

without suspicions of some more violent death. I shall have occasion to

speak of them hereafter. We could not, however, but persuade ourselves,

that a more encouraging field lay before us. We had not appeared,

as the Russian, to search for gold, nor to found a settlement; and

we had none of the wealth of the English traveller, which, I do not

hesitate to say, proved his ruin. We appeared even without presents

to the chiefs; for it was better to be thought mean, than to risk our

heads by exciting the cupidity of avaricious men. It may be imagined

that our feelings at this moment were not of an agreeable nature;

but fuller experience dissipated many of our fears. The notions of

our conductor even were singular. Shortly after leaving Cabool, I

took up a stone by the road side, to examine its formation; and the

Cafila-bashee, who observed me, asked me with anxiety, “Have you found

it?”--“What?”--“gold.” I threw away the stone, and became more cautious

in my future observations.

~Pass of Dundan Shikun.~

From Syghan we crossed the pass of “Dundan Shikun,” or the

Tooth-breaker, which is aptly named from its steepness and difficulty.

We here found the assafœtida plant in exuberance, which our fellow

travellers ate with great relish. This plant, I believe, is the

silphium of Alexander’s historians; for the sheep cropped it most

greedily, and the people consider it a nutritious food. We now

descended into a narrow valley, with a beautiful orchard of apricots,

that extended for some miles beyond the village of Kamurd. The rocks

rose on either side to a height of 3000 feet, frequently precipitous;

nor was the dell any where more than 300 yards wide. We could not see

the stars, to take an observation at night: the whole scene was most

imposing.

~Ruhmut oollah Khan.~

~Uzbek pity.~

At Kamurd we passed the seat of another petty chief, Ruhmut oollah

Khan, a Tajik deeply addicted to wine. He had been without a supply

for ten days, and gave vent to such ejaculations and regrets as amused

our party for the remainder of the march. Heaven and earth were the

same to him, he said, without his dose; and he produced a flagon,

with an earnest request that the Cafila-bashee would replenish it

at Khoolloom, and send it to him by the first opportunity. A coarse

loongee, coupled with a promise of the wine, satisfied this chief; for

he also claims a tax on the traveller, though he is but a tributary of

Koondooz. His power is limited, and it is curious to observe how he

keeps on terms with his master, Mahommed Moorad Beg. Unable to make

“chupaos,” or forays, and capture human beings, like his neighbour of

Syghan, he, last year, deliberately seized the whole of the inhabitants

of one of his villages, and despatched them, men, women, and children,

as slaves, to Koondooz. He was rewarded by three additional villages

for his allegiance and services; yet we here hired a son of this man to

escort us on our travels; and it was well we did so.

~Mahommedan law.~

The chief of Kamurd, in a quarrel which he had some years since with

one of his neighbours, unfortunately lost his wife, who was captured.

She was immediately transferred to his rival’s seraglio, and in time

bore him a numerous family. After a lapse of years, circumstances

restored her to her husband; but the propriety of receiving her into

his family was referred to the Mahommedan doctors. As the woman had

been carried off without her consent, it was decided that she should

be taken back, with all her family. It is common among the Toorks to

marry the wives of their enemies captured in battle; but the custom is

barbarous, and appears to contradict the nice principles of delicacy

regarding women, which are professed by all Mahommedans.

~Companions.~

~Asiatic opinions of Europe.~

I have hitherto forgotten to mention, that our companion the Nazir

was accompanied by a person named Mahommed Hoosein, an amusing

character, who had travelled into Russia, and often entertained us

with an account of that country, and the metropolis of the Czars. It

appeared to him, and several other Asiatics whom I afterwards met, a

very close approximation, in wine and women, to the paradise of their

blessed Prophet. A Mahommedan, who is transported from a country where

females are so much secluded, would at all times be struck with the

great change in an European country; but in Russia, where the moral

tone of society appears, from every account, to be rather loose, their

amazement is great indeed. The foundling hospitals and their inmates

are a subject of perpetual remark; and however much the Arabian prophet

may have condemned the use of intoxicating fluids, I could discover,

from those who I have visited Russia, that the temptations of the

gin and punch shops had not been resisted. Many of the Asiatics,

too, become gamblers; and commerce has imported cards into the holy

city of Bokhara. The pack consists of thirty-six cards, and the games

are strictly Russian. In describing the feelings of an Asiatic on

the subject of Europe, there must be much sameness; but it is at all

times most interesting to listen to their tales. Particulars which

quite escape us, and a multiplicity of trifles, are noticed with

great gravity. Nothing is so wonderful to an Asiatic as the European

notions of military discipline and drill, which he considers to be a

description of torture and despotism. I had to answer reiterated and

endless questions on the utility of making a man look always one way,

march off always with one foot, and hold his hands in certain positions

on a parade ground. As they had not heard of the great Frederick, I

could not refer them to his high name for an example; but I pointed to

India and Persia as sure proofs of the advantage of disciplined over

undisciplined valour. The Asiatics, however, have a far higher opinion

of European wisdom than valour; and truly, since the age of physical

strength has ceased, wisdom is bravery.

~Pass of Kara Koottul.~

~Adventures.~

On the 26th of May, we crossed the last pass of the Indian

Caucasus,--the Kara Koottul, or Black Pass,--but had yet a journey

of ninety-five miles before we cleared the mountains. We descended

at the village of Dooab into the bed of the river of Khooloom, and

followed it to that place among terrific precipices, which at night

obscured all the stars but those of the zenith. On this pass we had

an adventure, which illustrates the manners of the people among whom

we were travelling, and might have proved serious. Our Cafila-bashee

had intimated to us that we had reached a dangerous neighbourhood, and

consequently hired an escort, headed, as I have stated, by the son

of Rhumut oollah Khan. In ascending the pass, we met a large caravan

of horses, _en route_ to Cabool; and, on reaching the top, descried

a party of robbers advancing over a ridge of hills, and from the

direction of Hindoo Koosh. The cry of “Allaman, Allaman!” which here

means a robber, soon spread; and we drew up with our escort to meet,

and, if possible, fight the party. The robbers observed our motions,

and were now joined by some other men, who had lain in ambush, which

increased their party to about thirty. Each of us sent on a couple of

horsemen, who drew up at a distance of a hundred yards, and parleyed.

The robbers were Tatar Huzaras, commanded by a notorious free-booter

named Dilawur, who had come in search of the horse caravan. On

discovering that it had passed, and that we were in such good company

as the son of the chief of Kamurd, they gave up all intentions of

attack, and we pushed on without delay; immediately we had cleared the

pass, they occupied it; but the whole of their booty consisted of two

laden camels of the caravan, which had loitered behind. These they

seized in our view, as well as their drivers, who would now become

slaves for life; and had we not hired our escort, we should have

perhaps shared a similar fate, and found ourselves next day tending

herds and flocks among the mountains. The party was well mounted, and

composed of desperate men: disappointed of their prey, they attacked

the village of Dooab at night, where we first intended to halt. We had

luckily pushed on three miles further, and bivouacked in the bed of a

torrent in safety. The incidents of our escape furnished some room for

reflection; and we had to thank the Cafila-bashee for his prudence,

which had cleared us of the danger. The old gentleman stroked down his

beard, blessed the lucky day, and thanked God for preserving his good

name and person from such scoundrels.

~Life of a traveller.~

The life we now passed was far more agreeable than a detail of its

circumstances would lead one to believe, with our dangers and fatigues.

We mounted at daylight, and generally travelled without intermission

till two or three in the afternoon. Our day’s progress averaged about

twenty miles; but the people have no standard of measure; and miles,

coses, and fursukhs, were equally unknown, for they always reckon by

the day’s journey. We often breakfasted on the saddle, on dry bread

and cheese; slept always on the ground, and in the open air; and after

the day’s march, sat down cross-legged, till night and sleep overtook

us. Our own party was every thing that could be wished, for the Nazir

and his amusing fellow-traveller were very obliging: we ourselves

only amounted to eight persons; three of them were natives of the

country, and two others were instructed to pretend that they were quite

distinct from us; though one of them noted the few bearings of the

compass, which I myself could not conveniently take without leading to

discovery. We were quite happy in such scenes, and at the novelty of

every thing; and it was also delightful to recognise some old friends

among the weeds and shrubs. The hawthorn and sweet brier grew on the

verge of the river; and the rank hemlock, that sprung up under their

shade, now appeared beautiful from the associations which it awakened.

Our society, too, was amusing; and I took every favourable occasion of

mingling with the travellers whom we met by the way, and at the halting

places.

~Modes of salutation.~

I found nothing more puzzling than the different modes of salutation

among the Afghans, with which time only can familiarise a foreigner.

When you join a party, you must put your right hand on your heart, and

say “Peace be unto you!” (Salam Alaikoom.) You are then told you are

welcome; and when you depart, you repeat the ceremony, and are again

told you are welcome. On the road a traveller salutes you with “May

you not be fatigued!” (Mandu nu bashee;) to which you reply, “May you

live long!” (Zindu bashee.) If acquainted, the salutations become more

numerous. Are you strong? are you well? are you free from misfortunes?

&c. &c.: to all of which, you must answer, “Thanks be to God!”

(Shookur.) On parting, your friend will tell you that your journey is

not a tedious one, and consign you to God’s keeping (bu uman i Khooda).

If invited to dinner, you must reply to the civility, “May your house

be peopled!” (Khana i to abad;) and if you be complimented on any

occasion, you must answer that “I am not worthy of you; it is your

greatness.” Every person, high and low, you must address by the title

of Khan or Agha, to gain his good graces. If he is a moollah or priest,

you must call him Akhoond or teacher, if a moollah’s son, Akhoondzada.

A secretary is called Meerza; which is, however, a cognomen for all

nondescript characters, in which class we were numbered. Intimate

acquaintances call each other “lalu” or brother. The Afghans must have

learned all this ceremony from the Persians, for there is not a more

unsophisticated race of people in Asia. It was quite entertaining to

hear the various salutations which were addressed to our Cafila-bashee:

every person on the road seemed to know him; and, as we passed along,

he used to teach us lessons of good breeding, which I took every

occasion, as his apt scholar, to display.

~Tremendous defiles.~

~Poisonous plant.~

We continued our descent by Khoorrum and Sarbagh to Heibuk, which is

but a march within the mountains; and gradually exchanged our elevated

barren rocks for more hospitable lands. Our road led us through most

tremendous defiles, which rose over us to a height of from 2000 to 3000

feet, and overhung the pathway, while eagles and hawks whirled in giddy

circles over us: among them we distinguished the black eagle, which is

a noble bird. Near Heibuk, the defile becomes so narrow, that it is

called the “Dura i Zindan,” or Valley of the Dungeon; and so high are

the rocks, that the sun is excluded from some parts of it at mid-day.

There is a poisonous plant found here, which is fatal even to a mule or

a horse: it grows something like a lily; and the flower, which is about

four inches long, hangs over and presents a long seed nodule. Both it

and the flower resemble the richest crimson velvet. It is called “zuhr

boota” by the natives, which merely explains its poisonous qualities.

I brought a specimen of this plant to Calcutta, and am informed by

Dr. Wallich, the intelligent and scientific superintendent of the

Honourable Company’s botanic garden, that it is of the Arum species.

We now found vast flocks browsing on the aromatic pastures of the

mountains, and we passed extensive orchards of fruit trees. Herds of

deer might be seen bounding on the summit of the rocks; and in the

valleys, the soil was every where turned up by wild hogs, which are

here found in great numbers. The people also became more numerous as

we approached the plains of Tartary, and at Heibuk we had to encounter

another Uzbek chief named Baba Beg, a petty tyrant of some notoriety.

~Heibuk.~

As we approached his town, a traveller informed us that the chief

was anticipating the arrival of the Firingees (Europeans), whose

approach had been announced for some time past. This person is a son

of Khilich Ali Beg, who once ruled in Khooloom with great moderation;

but the child has not imitated the example of his parent. He poisoned

a brother at a feast, and seized upon his father’s wealth before

his life was extinct. He had greatly augmented the difficulties of

Mr. Moorcroft’s party; and was known to be by no means favourable

to Europeans. His subjects had driven him from his native town of

Khooloom for his tyranny, and he now only possessed the district of

Heibuk. We saw his castle about four in the afternoon, and approached

with reluctance; but our arrangements were conducted with address,

and here also we escaped in safety. On our arrival, our small caravan

alighted outside Heibuk, and we lay down on the ground as fatigued

travellers, covering ourselves with a coarse horse blanket till it was

night. In the evening, the chief came in person to visit our Cabool

friend the Nazir, to whom he offered every service; nor did he appear

to be at all aware of our presence. Baba Beg, on this occasion, made an

offer to send the party, under an escort of his own, direct to Balkh,

avoiding Khooloom,--an arrangement, which I heard with pleasure, and,

as it will soon appear, that might have saved us a world of anxiety.

Our fellow-travellers, however, declined the proffered kindness, and

vaunted so much of their influence at Khooloom, that we had no dread

in approaching a place where we were ultimately ensnared. While this

Uzbek chief was visiting the Nazir, we were eating a mutton chop by

the fireside within a few yards, and near enough to see him and hear

his conversation. He was an ill-looking man, of debauched habits. He

was under some obligation to our fellow-travellers; and we and our

animals fared well on the flesh and barley which he sent for their

entertainment. Our character was never suspected; and so beautiful a

starlight night was it, that I did not let this, the first opportunity,

pass without observing our latitude north of Hindoo Koosh. We set out

in the morning before the sun had risen, and congratulated ourselves at

having passed with such success a man who would have certainly injured

us.

~Heibuk reptiles.~

~Houses.~

~People.~

Heibuk is a thriving village, with a castle of sun-dried brick, built

on a commanding hillock. For the first time among the mountains, the

valley opens, and presents a sheet of gardens and most luxuriant

verdure. The climate also undergoes a great change; and we find the

fig tree, which does not grow in Cabool, or higher up the mountains.

The elevation of Heibuk is about 4000 feet. The soil is rich, and

the vegetation rank. We had expected to be rid of those troublesome

companions of a tropical climate, snakes and scorpions; but here they

were more numerous than in India, and we disturbed numbers of them on

the road. One of our servants was stung by a scorpion; and as there is

a popular belief that the pain ceases if the reptile be killed, it was

put to death accordingly. The construction of the houses at Heibuk

arrested our attention: they have domes instead of terraces, with a

hole in the roof as a chimney; so that a village has the appearance of

a cluster of large brown beehives. The inhabitants adopt this style of

building, as wood is scarce. The people, who were now as different as

their houses, wore conical skull-caps, instead of turbans, and almost

every one we met, whether traveller or villager, appeared in long

brown boots. The ladies seemed to select the gayest colours for their

dresses; and I could now distinguish some very handsome faces, for the

Mahommedan ladies do not pay scrupulous attention to being veiled in

the villages. They were much fairer than their husbands, with nothing

ungainly in their appearance, though they were Tartars. I could now,

indeed, understand the praises of the Orientals in the beauty of these

Toorkee girls.

~Khooloom and the plains of Tartary.~

On the 30th of May we made our last march among the mountains, and

debouched into the plains of Tartary at Khooloom, or Tash Koorghan,

where we had a noble view of the country north of us, sloping down to

the Oxus. We left the last hills about two miles from the town, rising

at once in an abrupt and imposing manner; the road passing through them

by a narrow defile, which might easily be defended. Khooloom contains

about ten thousand inhabitants, and is the frontier town of Moorad Beg

of Koondooz, a powerful chief, who has reduced all the countries north

of Hindoo Koosh to his yoke. We alighted at one of the caravansarais,

where we were scarcely noticed. A caravansary is too well known to

require much description:--it is a square, enclosed by walls, under

which are so many rooms or cells for accommodation. The merchandise and

cattle stand in the area. Each party has his chamber, and is strictly

private; since it is contrary to custom for one person to disturb

another. All are travellers, and many are fatigued. If society were

every where on as good a footing as in a caravansary, the world would

be spared the evils of calumny. We here rested after our arduous and

fatiguing journey over rocks and mountains; and were, indeed, refreshed

by the change. Since leaving Cabool, we had slept in our clothes,

and could seldom or ever change them. We had halted among mud, waded

through rivers, tumbled among snow, and for the last few days been

sunned by heat. These are but the petty inconveniences of a traveller;

which sink into insignificance, when compared with the pleasure of

seeing new men and countries, strange manners and customs, and being

able to temper the prejudices of one’s country, by observing those of

other nations.

FOOTNOTE:

[18] See Vol. II. book i. c. 7.

CHAP. VII.

SERIOUS DIFFICULTIES.--A JOURNEY TO KOONDOOZ.

~Difficulties at Khooloom.~

We had entered Khooloom, with an intention of setting out next day on

our journey to Balkh; placing implicit reliance on the assertion of our

friends, that we had nothing to apprehend in doing so. Judge, then, of

our surprise, when we learned that the officers of the custom-house

had despatched a messenger to the chief of Koondooz, to report our

arrival, and request his instructions as to our disposal. We were,

meanwhile, desired to await the answer. Our companion, the Nazir, was

much chagrined at the detention; but it was now useless to upbraid

him for having ever brought us to Khooloom. He assured us that it was

a mere temporary inconvenience; and likewise despatched a letter to

the minister at Koondooz, requesting that we might not be detained,

since his business in Russia could not be transacted without us. The

minister was a friend of the Nazir’s family; and since we had plunged

ourselves into difficulties, matters seemed at least to look favourable

for our safe conduct through them. I could not but regret, that I

had ever allowed myself to be seduced by the advice of any one; and

would, even at this late period, have endeavoured to escape to Balkh,

had not the Cafila-bashee, and every one, pronounced it headstrong and

impracticable. At one time, indeed, about midnight, the Cafila-bashee

acceded to our proposals for escaping to Balkh in the course of the

next night, and even said the first verse of the Koran as his oath

and blessing. I did not, however, understand the plan was to be kept

secret from the Nazir, to whom I revealed it next day, to the great

dissatisfaction and dismay of the Cafila-bashee, who was visited with

a due share of his wrath. “Wait,” said the Nazir to us, “for a reply

from Koondooz, and we cannot doubt its favourable nature.” We did wait;

and at midnight, on the 1st of June, received a summons to repair

to Koondooz with all despatch; while the minister, in reply to our

conductor’s letter, begged he would not allow himself to be detained on

our account, but proceed on his journey to Bokhara! Our surprise may be

better imagined than described. It was now too late to make our escape,

for we were watched in the caravansary, and the officers would not even

allow my horse to be taken into the town and shod. It might have been

accomplished on our first arrival, but then it was deemed injudicious,

and it only remained, therefore, for us to face the difficulties of

our situation in a prompt and becoming manner. I urged an immediate

departure for Koondooz, leaving Dr. Gerard, and all the party, except

two Afghans, at Khooloom. I was now resolved on personating the

character of an Armenian, and believed that despatch would avail me and

allay suspicion. I had letters from the saint at Peshawur, which would

bear me out, as I thought, in the new character, since we were there

denominated Armenians; but my fellow-travellers assured me that the

very possession of such documents would prove our real condition, and I

destroyed them all, as well as the letters of the Cabool chief, which

were alike objectionable. I divested myself, indeed, of all my Persian

correspondence, and tore up among the rest many of Runjeet Sing’s

epistles, which were now in my eyes less acceptable than I thought they

would ever prove. During these arrangements, I discovered that the

Nazir had no relish for a journey to Koondooz, and seemed disposed to

stay behind, almost frantic with despair; but shame is a great promoter

of exertion, and I begged he would accompany me, to which he agreed.

~Sketch of Moorcroft’s disaster.~

The better to understand the critical situation in which we were now

placed, I shall give a brief sketch of the disasters which befell Mr.

Moorcroft in this part of the country, in the year 1824, from the very

personage who now summoned us to Koondooz. On that traveller crossing

the mountains, he proceeded to wait on the chief, and having made

him some presents suitable to his rank, returned to Khooloom. He had

no sooner arrived there, than he received a message from the chief,

saying, that some of his soldiers had been wounded, and requesting

that he would hasten his return, and bring along with him his medical

instruments, and Mr. Guthrie, an Indo-Briton, who had accompanied

Mr. Moorcroft, as a surgeon. Mr. Moorcroft’s own abilities in that

capacity were also known, for he had already given proofs of his great

skill to these people. He set out for Koondooz without suspicion,

but found, on his arrival there, that his surgical services were not

wanted, and it was merely a plan to ensnare him. The chief ordered

him to send for all his party and baggage, which he did; and, after a

month’s delay, he only succeeded in liberating himself, by complying

with the most extravagant demands of Moorad Beg. By one means or

another, he possessed himself of cash to the value of 23,000 rupees,

before Mr. Moorcroft was permitted to depart; and it would have been

well had the matter here terminated, but the cupidity of the chief

had been excited. It is also said, that he entertained some dread of

Moorcroft’s designs, from the arms and two small field-pieces, which

he carried with him for purposes of protection. The party prepared to

quit Khooloom for Bokhara, but, on the very eve of departure, were

surrounded by 400 horsemen, and again summoned to Koondooz. It was not

now concealed, that the chief was resolved on seizing the whole of the

property, and putting the party to death. Mr. Moorcroft took the only

course which could have ever extricated his party and himself. In the

disguise of a native he fled at night, and after a surprising journey,

at length reached Talighan, a town beyond Koondooz, where a holy man

lived, who was reputed to possess much influence over the conscience of

Moorad Beg. He threw himself at the feet of this saint, seized the hem

of his garment, and sued for his protection. “Rise up,” said he, “it is

granted; fear nothing.” This good man immediately sent a messenger to

Koondooz, to summon the chief, who appeared in person with the answer.

At his peril, he could not now touch a hair of the traveller’s head;

Moorad Beg obeyed, and the holy man declined to receive the smallest

reward for his services. After Mr. Moorcroft’s flight, the Uzbeks

marched his fellow-traveller, Mr. George Trebeck, with all the party

and property, to Koondooz. Their anxiety was not allayed till their

arrival at that place, when they heard of the success of Moorcroft,

his safety, and their own. After these disasters, Moorcroft pursued

his journey into Bokhara, but unfortunately died on his return, in

the following year, at Andkhooee, about eighty miles from Balkh. His

fellow-traveller, Mr. Trebeck, was unable to force his way beyond

Mazar, in the neighbourhood of that city, since the chief of Koondooz

was resolved on way-laying the party on its return, and the only safe

road to Cabool led by Khooloom, where they had already encountered such

difficulties. He lingered about Balkh for four or five months, and

died of fever, from which he had been suffering during the whole of

that time. The Indo-Briton, Mr. Guthrie, was previously cut off by the

same disease to which most of their followers also fell victims. Thus

terminated their unfortunate expedition into Tartary.

~Journey to Koondooz.~

~Favourable opportunity for escape.~

On the evening of the 2d of June, I set out on my journey to Koondooz,

which lies higher up the valley of the Oxus, having previously

prevailed on the custom-house officer, who was a Hindoo, to accompany

me. I did not leave Khooloom under very encouraging circumstances,

having just discovered that a Hindoo of Peshawur had _kindly_ apprised

the authorities of many of our acts, circumstances, and condition,

since leaving Hindoostan; adding, indeed, numerous exaggerations to

the narration, in which we were set forth as wealthy individuals,

whose bills had even affected the money market. When beyond the town,

we found our caravan to consist of eight or ten tea merchants, of

Budukhshan and Yarkund, who had disposed of their property, and were

returning to their country. In our own party there was the Nazir,

Cafila bashee, and myself, with the Hindoo, whose name was Chumundass,

who came unattended. I discovered that this latter person had a pretty

correct knowledge of our affairs, but I did not assist to fill up the

thread of his discourse, and boldly denominated myself an Hindoostan

Armenian. The name of Englishman, which had carried us in safety in

all other places, was here replete with danger; since it not only

conveyed notions of great wealth, but a belief that that can be renewed

from the inferior metals. I had, however, discovered that the Hindoo

was a good man, for his easy manner in searching our baggage at the

caravansary, after our first arrival, left a favourable impression on

my mind; and he himself declared to the Nazir, that it was no fault of

his that we were dragged to Koondooz, since he was but a custom-house

officer, and obliged to report our arrival. It was evident to me, that

an impression might be made on such a person by persuasion and gold,

and from his very presence with us, I construed that money might be

his god. He and I soon fell into conversation, and I found him to be

a native of Mooltan, who had long resided in these countries. I spoke

much of India, and its people and customs; told him that I had seen his

native town, using as much eloquence as I was possessed of to praise

its people, and every thing connected with it. It would have been

difficult to discover, from the varied topics of our conversation, that

the time was one of most anxious suspense. I ran over the gods of the

Hindoo catalogue as far as I remembered, and produced almost a fever

of delight in my associate, who had long ceased to hear them named in

aught but terms of deep reproach. It was now time to turn my persuasion

to account, and as we talked in the language of India, our conversation

was conducted in a dialect foreign to most of our party, and unheeded

by them. I pointed out, in plain terms, to the Hindoo, our forlorn

and hopeless condition, when in the power of a person like the chief

of Koondooz; and I put it to himself, if our baggage did not testify

our poverty. I then showed him, that as I belonged to India, I might

one day serve him in that country, and finally offered to give him a

reward in money, and conjured him by all his Pantheon to aid us in our

difficulties. When about twelve miles from Khooloom, we alighted at a

village called Ungaruk, to feed our horses, and it now occurred to me

that a truly favourable opportunity to make an escape presented itself.

There was no guard or escort to attend us, and the honest Hindoo was

far from Khooloom, and without the means of giving an alarm, whilst the

most moderate speed would carry us beyond Moorad Beg’s frontier, and

even to the city of Balkh before morning. This feasible plan, however,

could not evidently be put into execution, since Dr. Gerard would be

left at Khooloom, and his safety more than ever endangered; and it

could only now be regretted, that the scheme had not sooner presented

itself. The tone of the Hindoo had, however, reconciled me in a great

degree to my situation, and we again prosecuted our midnight journey

and renewed our conversation. Before the sun had risen, I was satisfied

that if more honourable motives had not opened this man’s heart, the

baser metals had, and I almost then believed, that we should triumph

over our misfortunes. A new dilemma, however, now overtook us.

~A night adventure.~

We journeyed till within an hour of dawn by a dreary road, over two low

passes, among hills, not enlivened by a single tree, nor blessed with

a drop of fresh water for forty-five miles. In this dismal waste, our

attention was roused by some lighted matches in front, that appeared

to cross our path, and which we could not but conclude were robbers,

since this country is infested by banditti. One of the tea merchants

busied himself in tearing up rags, rubbing them with gunpowder, and

lighting them, literally as _demonstrations_ of our force; and, judging

by the number of lights that appeared from the opposite party, they

must have done the same, which might have been amusing enough had we

not construed them into real matchlocks. We had but one piece, and

five or six swords, and could have made but a sorry resistance; but

generalship may be shown with a small as well as a large band, and the

tea merchant, who seemed accustomed to such scenes, called on us to

dismount, and prepare for the attack. I will not conceal my feelings

at this moment, which were those of vexation and irritability, at so

many succeeding disasters. At length we approached within speaking

distance, and one forward youth in our party challenged in Persian,

but he was instantly silenced by an elderly man, who spoke out in

Turkish. The Persian, being the language of commerce, would at once

betray our character, and it was proper that we should at least appear

as soldiers. The other party gave no reply, but veered off towards

Khooloom, and we ourselves took the road of Koondooz, mutually glad, I

suppose, to be rid of each other. At the town we discovered that we had

drawn up against peaceable travellers, who must have been as glad as us

to escape. About eleven in the forenoon we reached the first fields,

and alighted in an orchard of apricots, about twelve miles distant

from Koondooz, and stole a few hours’ rest after the night’s journey.

I found myself near a hedge of honeysuckles, a bush that delighted me,

and which I had never before seen in the east. We reached Koondooz at

night-fall, after performing a journey of more than seventy miles.

~My account of myself.~

We were received on our arrival at the house of Atmaram, the minister,

or as he is styled the Dewan Begee, of Moorad Beg, and sat in his

doorway till he came out. I shall long remember the silent look which

passed between him and the Nazir. The reception augured well, for

the minister conducted us to his house of guests, and fine beds were

brought for our use, but he said nothing on the subject which most

interested us, and we were left to think about our own affairs. I

was now to personate the character of a very poor traveller, and as

it behoved me to act as such, I looked demure, took up my seat in a

corner, fared with the servants, and treated the Nazir, my master,

with great respect; and evinced, on every occasion, as much humility

as possible. It was prudent, however, that when questioned, we should

all tell the same story, and in a quiet hour, before going to sleep, I

gave out my character as follows. That I was an Armenian from Lucknow,

Sikunder Alaverdi, by profession a watchmaker, and that, on reaching

Cabool, I had procured intelligence from Bokhara regarding my relatives

in that country, which led me to take a journey to it, and that I was

the more induced to do so from the protection I should receive from the

Nazir, to whose brother in Cabool I was, in some manner, a servant. We

discarded the subject of my accompanying the Nazir to Russia, as it

might lead to unpleasant enquiries. I then went on to state, that Dr.

Gerard was a relative of my own, and that he was left sick at Khooloom,

and thus brought within a short space as much evasion as my ingenuity

could invent. All our party agreed, that it would be most advisable to

take the name of an Armenian, and entirely discard that of European;

but the Cafila bashee wished to know how far it was proper to deal in

such wholesale lies, which had excited his merriment. I replied in the

words of Sady,

“Durogh i musluhut amez

Bih uz rastee bu fitna ungez.”

“An untruth that preserves peace is better than truth that stirs up

troubles.” He shook his head in approbation of the moralist’s wisdom,

and I afterwards found him the most forward in the party to enlarge on

my pretended narrative and circumstances. It was agreed that we should

first tell the consistent tale to the Hindoo of the custom-house,

and then adopt it generally; and the Nazir promised in the course of

to-morrow to unfold it to the minister.

~Imbecility of our conductor.~

The 4th of June slipped away without any adjustment of our concerns,

and the Nazir now evinced an imbecility and weakness of intellect,

which there was no tolerating. At one moment he was whining out to the

visiters a sorrowful detail of our disasters, half in tears; at another

time he was sitting erect, with all the pride and self-sufficiency

of a man of consequence. In the afternoon he retired to a garden,

and returned with a train of followers, as if he had been a grandee

instead of a prisoner; nor had he even visited the minister during the

day, and our affairs were no further advanced at night than in the

morning. As soon as it was dark, I took an opportunity of pointing

out to my friend the great impropriety of his conduct, for which I

encountered a good share of his indignation. I told him that his grief

and his pride were equally ill-timed and impolitic; that every hour

added to the danger of our situation; and, if he acted rightly, he

would immediately seek an interview with the minister, and endeavour

either to convince or deceive him. You are in the house of a Hindoo,

I added, and you may effect any thing by throwing yourself upon him,

and sitting in “dhurna,” that is, without food, till your request is

granted. Your course, continued I, is now the reverse, as you appear

to prefer parading in his gardens, and devouring the savoury viands he

sends us. The earnestness with which I enforced these views produced

a good effect, and the Nazir sent a messenger to the minister to say,

that if he were the friend of his family, he would not detain him in

this manner, for he had not come as a dog, to eat his bread, but as an

acquaintance, to solicit a favour. I rejoiced at the decision which

he was now displaying, and called out in accents of delight from my

corner of the apartment, but the Nazir here requested me to conduct

myself with greater discretion, and remain more peaceable. I deserved

the rebuke, and was thus glad to compromise matters between us. When

the minister received the message, he called the Nazir to him, and a

long explanation ensued regarding our affairs, which, as far as I could

gather, had left him bewildered as to their reality. It now appeared,

however, that we were to have his good offices, for it was settled

that we should set out early next morning to the country seat of the

chief, where we should see that personage. The Nazir, as being a man

of consequence, was instructed not to appear empty handed, and the

minister with great kindness returned a shawl, which he had presented

to him on his arrival, and desired him to give it and another to the

chief of Koondooz.

~Visiters.~

~Manner of tea-drinking.~

~Traditions of Alexander the Great.~

During the day I had seen a good deal of the people, for there were

many visiters, and though most of them courted the great man, a few

found their way to me in the corner. Nothing is done in this country

without tea, which is handed round at all times and hours, and gives a

social character to conversation, which is very agreeable. The Uzbeks

drink their tea with salt instead of sugar, and sometimes mix it with

fat; it is then called “keimuk chah.” After each person has had one

or two large cups, a smaller one is handed round, made in the usual

manner, without milk. The leaves of the pot are then divided among

the party, and chewed like tobacco. Many of the strangers evinced an

interest in the affairs of Cabool; some spoke of Runjeet Sing, and a

few of the English in India. Most of them were merchants, who trade

between this and China. They spoke much of their intercourse with that

singular nation, and praised the equity and justice that characterised

their commercial transactions. These merchants were Tajiks, and natives

of Budukhshan, a country on which we now bordered. I heard from these

people a variety of particulars regarding the reputed descendants of

Alexander the Great, which are yet said to exist in this neighbourhood,

and the valley of the Oxus, as well as the countries near the head of

the Indus. The subject had occupied much of my attention, and a tea

merchant of our small caravan had amused me on the road from Khooloom,

with the received lineage of these Macedonians. He was a priest, and

believed Alexander the Great to be a prophet, which, in his eyes,

satisfactorily accounted for the uninterrupted progeny of Greeks, since

no human being could injure so holy a race. In Koondooz, I heard the

traditions, which I have stated at length in the next volume.

~Interview with the chief of Koondooz.~

Early on the morning of the 5th, we set out on our journey to Moorad

Beg. We found him at the village of Khanu-abad, which is about

fifteen miles distant, and situated on the brow of the hills above the

fens of Koondooz, enlivened by a rivulet, which runs briskly past a

fort, shaded by trees of the richest verdure. We crossed this stream

by a bridge, and found ourselves at the gate of a small, but neatly

fortified dwelling, in which the chief was now holding his court.

There were about five hundred saddled horses standing at it, and the

cavaliers came and returned in great numbers. All of them were booted,

and wore long knives, stuck into the girdle for swords, some of which

were richly mounted with gold. We sat down under the wall, and had

ample time to survey the passing scene, and admire the martial air and

pomp of these warlike Uzbeks. None of the chiefs had more than a single

attendant, and there was great simplicity in the whole arrangements. A

Hindoo belonging to the minister went inside to announce our arrival,

and, in the mean time, I rehearsed my tale, and drew on a pair of boots

as well for the uniformity as to hide my provokingly white ankles. My

face had long been burned into an Asiatic hue, and from it I feared

no detection. The custom-house officer stood by, and I had taken care

to have him previously schooled in all the particulars above related.

We were summoned, after about an hour’s delay, and passed into the

first gateway. We here found an area, in which stood the attendants

and horses of the chief. Six or eight “yessawuls” or doorkeepers then

announced our approach, as we entered the inner building. The Nazir

headed the party, and marching up to the chief kissed his hand, and

presented his shawls. The Hindoo of the custom-house followed, with

two loaves of Russian white sugar, which he gave as his offering; and,

in my humble capacity, I brought up the rear, and advanced to make

my obeisance, sending forth a loud “sulam alaikoom,” and placing my

hands between those of the chief, kissed them according to custom, and

exclaimed “tukseer,” the usual mode of expressing inferiority. The

Uzbek gave a growl of approbation, and rolling on one side, said, “Ay,

ay, he understands the sulam.” The “yessawul” then gave a signal for

my retreat, and I stood at the portal with my hands crossed among the

lower domestics. Moorad Beg was seated on a tiger skin, and stretched

out his legs covered with huge boots, in contempt of all eastern

rules of decorum. He sat at the door, for, contrary to the custom of

all Asiatic courts, an Uzbek there takes up his position, and his

visiters pass into the interior of the apartment. The chief was a man

of tall stature, with harsh Tartar features; his eyes were small to

deformity, his forehead broad and frowning, and he wanted the beard

which adorns the countenance in most oriental nations. He proceeded to

converse with the Nazir; and put several questions regarding Cabool,

and then on his own affairs, during which he spoke of our poverty and

situation. Then came the Hindoo of the Custom-house with my tale. “Your

slave,” said he, “has examined the baggage of the two Armenians, and

found them to be poor travellers. It is in every person’s mouth that

they are Europeans (Firingees), and it would have placed me under your

displeasure had I let them depart; I have, therefore, brought one of

them to know your orders.” The moment was critical; and the chief gave

me a look, and said in Turkish,--“Are you certain he is an Armenian?”

A second assurance carried conviction, and he issued an order for our

safe conduct beyond the frontier. I stood by, and saw his secretary

prepare and seal the paper; and I could have embraced him when he

pronounced it finished.

~Incidents illustrative of Uzbek character.~

It was now necessary to retreat with caution, and evince as little of

the joy which we felt as possible. The chief had not considered me even

worthy of a question; and my garb, torn and threadbare, could give him

no clue to my condition. His attendants and chiefs, however, asked me

many questions; and his son, a youth with the unpromising name of

Atalik, sent for me to know the tenets of the Armenians--if they said

prayers, believed in Mahommed, and would eat with the “Faithful.” I

replied, that we were “people of the book,” and had our prophets; but

to the home question of our credence in Mahommed, I said, that the New

Testament had been written before that personage (on whom be peace) had

appeared on earth. The lad turned to the Hindoos who were present, and

said, Why this poor man is better than you. I then narrated my story to

the prince with more confidence, and kissed the young chief’s hand for

the honour he had done in listening to it.

We were soon outside the fortification, and across the bridge; but the

heat of the sun was oppressive, and we alighted at a garden to pass a

few hours. The Hindoos got us refreshment; and, yet enacting the part

of a poor man, I had a portion of the Nazir’s pillao sent to me, and

ate heartily by myself. In the afternoon we returned to Koondooz; and

the good Hindoo of the Custom-house told me by the way, that the Uzbeks

were bad people, and did not deserve truth. “Whoever you be, therefore,

you are now safe.” I did most sincerely rejoice at the success of

the journey; for if the chief had suspected our true character for a

moment, we should have been deprived of all our money, subjected to

great vexation, and, perhaps, been confined for months in the unhealthy

climate of Koondooz. We must, at all events, have abandoned every hope

of prosecuting our journey; and our assumed poverty would have soon

availed us little; since there were not wanting persons who had a

shrewd guess at our concerns. The whole affair exhibits a simplicity

on the part of the Uzbeks which is hardly to be credited; but no

people are more simple. The veteran Cafila-bashee, who accompanied

me, was taken for my fellow-traveller, Dr. Gerard, though a grave,

grey bearded, demure Moslem; and the whole court of Moorad Beg were

left in ignorance of what many of the Hindoo community knew as well as

ourselves,--that we were Europeans.

~Koondooz.~

~Its chief.~

At Koondooz we alighted in our old quarters, at the house of the

minister. The town is situated in a valley, surrounded on all sides

by hills, except the north, where the Oxus flows at a distance of

about forty miles. It is watered by two rivers, which join north of

the town. The climate is so insalubrious, that there is a proverb

among the people, which runs as follows:--“If you wish to die, go to

Koondooz.” The greater part of the valley is so marshy, that the roads

are constructed on piles of wood, and run through the rankest weeds;

yet wheat and barley are produced, as also rice, in the places which

are not entirely inundated. The heat is described as intolerable, yet

snow lies for three months in the year. Koondooz has at one time been a

large town, but its population does not now exceed 1500 souls; and no

person makes it a residence, who can live in any other place, though

it be yet the market-town of the neighbourhood. The chief never visits

it but in winter. It has a fort, surrounded by a ditch, which is a

place of strength: the walls are constructed of sun-dried brick; and

such is the heat, that they crumble under the sun’s rays, and require

constant repair. The great mountains of Hindoo Koosh lie in sight,

south of Koondooz, covered with snow: the neighbouring hills are low,

creeping ridges, covered with grass and flowers, but destitute of

trees or brushwood. A little further up the valley the climate becomes

much more genial; and the people speak in raptures of the groves and

rivulets, the fruits and flowers, of Budukhshan. The ruler of Koondooz,

Mahommed Moorad Beg, is an Uzbek of the tribe of Kudghun, who has but

lately risen into power. He is now encroaching in every direction, and

possesses all the valley of the Oxus; and very lately had sovereignty

over Balkh. He yet stamps his coin with the general appellation of

that capital, the “Mother of Cities.” He is quite independent, and now

rules all the countries immediately north of Hindoo Koosh.

~Departure from Koondooz.~

We could not quit Koondooz without the formal sanction of the minister;

and waited for his pleasure till three in the afternoon. He then sent

a _khillut_, or dress of honour, to the Nazir; and a tunic, with some

other articles of dress, to me and the Cafila-bashee; for we could not,

it seems, leave the house of guests of so great a person without some

mark of his favour. I, however, discovered that the Nazir, now that he

had recovered from his fright, was resolved on profiting to the utmost

by the minister’s bounty; and had set on foot a negotiation, by means

of one of his servants, to get as large a present as possible. I was

horrified at such conduct, as it might again involve us in difficulty;

but the mean fellow succeeded, and we were all covered in dresses of

honour, as I have stated. He, indeed, got a horse in addition. It is

necessary to mention, that the minister was contemplating a journey to

Cabool, where he hoped for some good offices from the Nazir’s family.

I, who was but a spectator of events, enjoyed the display of character

which they brought forth. We dressed ourselves in our new robes, and

saddled at three P.M.; nor did we halt till we reached Khooloom on the

following morning,--a distance of more than seventy miles,--worn out

with fatigue, after being seated on one horse for twenty hours. It is

singular, that I rode the very same animal that had been given to me by

the brother of the Peshawur chief; and which, it will be remembered,

he had forced upon me, as it might serve me in my difficulties among

the Uzbeks; a horse of the same breed having formerly availed Mr.

Moorcroft when he escaped to Talighan. How singular the coincidence!

how much more singular the gift! It was with heartfelt satisfaction

that I again found myself with Dr. Gerard and our own party, and

witnessed the universal joy. I could detail to them my adventures at

Koondooz, but could not relieve myself by sleep from the fatigue which

I had undergone. I have found that, after a certain period, the frame

is beyond sleep, which only returns to refresh and recruit the system

after the body has been rubbed and rested, and the stomach refreshed by

tea, the most cheering beverage to the way-worn traveller. Among the

Uzbeks, we frequently lived upon it.

~Quit Khooloom.~

~Avaricious conduct of our conductor.~

Khooloom is a much more pleasant place than Koondooz, and has many

beautiful gardens, and fine fruit. Its apricots, cherries, and

mulberries were now ripe; but it was not prudent to incur further

risks, with such an example as that of poor Moorcroft before us,

and we prepared for a start on the following morning. We showed the

order of Moorad Beg to the Wallee, or governor, and he appointed the

prescribed escort to attend us. During night, I transferred a portion

of my gold to the Hindoo of the custom house, for his eminent services;

and, to elude discovery, paid it through the hands of the Nazir: but

my astonishment may be conceived, when I discovered in the morning,

that, out of twenty gold pieces, he had pocketed fifteen, and put

off the Hindoo with five! It was no time for explanation, and, after

ascertaining the correctness of the fact, I paid it a second time, and

left Khooloom in the company of our avaricious friend the Nazir. This

_honest_ person made us stop by the way, to give him an opportunity

of reading a chapter of the Koran, with which he always travelled;

suspending it in a bag from the pommel of his saddle, and pulling it

forth at stated hours. Dr. Gerard and myself preceded our people, who

followed with a caravan, and reached Muzar in the afternoon of the 8th,

a distance of thirty miles beyond Khooloom.

~Dangers of the road to Balkh.~

~Mirage.~

The country between these places is barren and dreary; and the road

leads over a low pass, called Abdoo, which is the resort of robbers

from every quarter; since the whole of the neighbouring chiefs plunder

on it. Our escort of Uzbeks reconnoitred the pass, from which Muzar

is visible about fifteen miles off, and then left us to journey by

ourselves. These men were speaking of the spoil which they themselves

had captured a few days before, and I cannot say that I regretted their

departure. The ruins of aqueducts and houses prove that this country

has been at one time peopled; but it is now destitute of water, and,

consequently, of inhabitants. On our route we saw a very magnificent

_mirage_ on our right hand,--a snaky line of vapour, as large as the

Oxus itself, and which had all the appearance of that river. It mocked

our parched tongues; for we had expended the contents of the leathern

bottles we always carried, long before we reached the village.

~Muzar.~

Muzar contains about 500 houses, and is within the limits of the

canal of Balkh. It can muster about 1000 horse, and is independent of

that city and Khooloom. It belongs to a priest, or Mootuwullee, who

superintends the worship at a shrine of great sanctity, which is here

dedicated to Ali. Muzar means a tomb; and that of this place consists

of two lofty cupolas, built by Sultan Ali Meerza of Herat, about 350

years ago. I visited the shrine, went round it as a pilgrim, and gave

my mite in that character. If I could not believe the legends of this

pretended sanctuary, and join in the devotions of the people, I could

offer up thanks in my own way for our late escape. The congregation

at evening prayers was numerous; and the priests sat at the door of

the shrine, and divided the proceeds of the day, copper by copper,

among certain families, who are entitled to it by hereditary right. A

priest came up, and asked me why I did not pray with the rest. I told

him I was not a Mahommedan; yet they did not object to my entering the

shrine; though I ought not to have risked a trial. There was no object

of curiosity to be seen that differs from similar Mahommedan buildings.

In the evening, it is illuminated by lights from brass chandeliers.

~Tomb of Mr. Trebeck.~

Muzar is the place where Mr. Trebeck, the last of Moorcroft’s

unfortunate party, expired. One of our companions, a Hajee, attended

him on his death-bed, and conducted us to the spot in which he is

laid; which is in a small burying-ground, westward of the town, under

a mulberry tree, that was now shedding its fruit upon it. This young

man has left a most favourable impression of his good qualities

throughout the country which we passed; and I could not but feel for

his melancholy fate. After burying his two European fellow-travellers,

he sunk, at an early age, after four months’ suffering, in a far

distant country, without a friend, without assistance, and without

consolation. The whole of his property was either embezzled by a priest

who accompanied the party, or confiscated by _the holy men_ of this

sanctuary, who yet retain it: it consisted of some valuable horses,

camp equipage, money, and a few printed books. All the manuscripts

of Moorcroft have been fortunately recovered; and, in justice to an

amiable man, who devoted his life to a passion for travel and research,

they ought, long ere this, to have been published. The money did not

fall into the hands of the people of Muzar: it may be traced, but I

cannot say found.

~Arrival at Balkh.~

~Intelligence of the Cafila-bashee.~

On the morning of the 9th of June, we entered the ancient city of

Balkh, which is in the dominions of the King of Bokhara; and wound

among its extensive ruins for nearly three miles before reaching a

caravansary in the inhabited corner of this once proud “Mother of

Cities” (Amo ool Bulad). On the way we were met by two police officers,

Toorkmans, who searched us for our money, that they might tax it. I

told them at once that we had twenty gold tillas[19] each; and they

demanded one in twenty, according to their law, since we were not

Mahommedans. We complied, and took a sealed receipt; but they returned

in the evening, and demanded as much more, since we avowed ourselves

as Europeans, and were not subject to a Mahommedan ruler. I discovered

that their position was legal, and paid the sum; but I had a greater

store of gold than that about my own person. The people gave us no

molestation; and our baggage and books were freely submitted to the eye

and astonishment of the police. We should, of course, have concealed

them, had it been in our power. One of the most satisfactory feelings

we experienced on our arrival at Balkh, was the sure relief from the

hands of our enemy at Koondooz, and, I may now add, from the tricks

of our conductor, the Nazir; for he had lately adopted so unworthy a

line of conduct, that we resolved no longer to place reliance upon

him. As we were now in the territories of a king, we could tell him

our opinions; though it had, perhaps, been more prudent to keep them

to ourselves. If experience had proved the Nazir unworthy of our

confidence, Hyat, the Cafila-bashee, had fully established himself in

our good graces by his sensible and faithful conduct. He deprecated

the meanness of the Nazir, and evinced more detestation of it than

ourselves. Hyat was a man of no small penetration; and I was a little

staggered at a conversation which passed between us as we approached

Balkh, when discussing the motives which had led to our undertaking

such a journey. I stated that Bokhara lay on the road to Europe:

but Hyat rejoined, that the Firingees sought for information on all

countries, and that the untimely death of Mr. Moorcroft had withheld

any correct knowledge of Toorkistan; and we had, probably, been

despatched in a quiet way to procure it, as much of that gentleman’s

misfortunes were to be referred to the mode in which he had travelled.

I smiled at the shrewd guess of the man, and gave an ironical shout of

“Barikilla!” (Bravo!), and praised his sagacity: but Hyat and I had

become good friends; and we had not only nothing to fear, but much to

hope from his kind offices.

FOOTNOTE:

[19] A tilla is worth 13_s._

CHAP. VIII.

BALKH.--AND CONTINUATION OF THE JOURNEY TO BOKHARA.

~Description of Balkh.~

We continued at Balkh for three days, to examine the remains of this

once proud city. Its ruins extend for a circuit of about twenty miles,

but present no symptoms of magnificence; they consist of fallen

mosques and decayed tombs, which have been built of sun-dried brick;

nor are any of these ruins of an age prior to Mahommedanism, though

Balkh boasts an antiquity beyond most other cities in the globe. By

the Asiatics it is named the “Mother of Cities,” and said to have

been built by Kyamoors, the founder of the Persian monarchy. After

the conquest of Alexander the Great, it flourished under the name of

Bactria, with a dynasty of Grecian kings. In the third century of the

Christian era, “Artaxerxes had his authority solemnly acknowledged in a

great assembly held at Balkh, in Khorasan.”[20] It continued subject to

the Persian empire, and the residence of the Archimagus, or head of the

Magi, till the followers of Zoroaster were overthrown by the inroads

of the caliphs. Its inhabitants were butchered in cold blood by Jenghis

Khan; and under the house of Timour it became a province of the Mogul

empire. It formed the government of Aurungzebe in his youth; and was at

last invaded by the great Nadir. On the establishment of the Dooranee

monarchy, after his death, it fell into the hands of the Afghans, and

within the last eight years has been seized by the King of Bokhara,

whose deputy now governs it. Its present population does not amount to

2000 souls; who are chiefly natives of Cabool, and the remnant of the

Kara noukur, a description of militia established here by the Afghans.

There are also a few Arabs. The Koondooz chief has marched off a great

portion of its population, and constantly threatens the city; which has

driven the inhabitants to the neighbouring villages. In its wide area,

the city appears to have enclosed innumerable gardens; which increased

its size without adding to its population: and from the frail materials

of which its buildings are constructed, the foundations being only

brick, I doubt if Balkh ever were a substantial city. There are three

large colleges of a handsome structure, now in a state of decay, with

their cells empty. A mud wall surrounds a portion of the town; but it

must be of a late age, since it excludes the ruins on every side for

about two miles. The citadel, or _ark_, on the northern side has been

more solidly constructed; yet it is a place of no strength. There is

a stone of white marble in it, which is yet pointed out as the throne

of Kai Kaoos, or Cyrus. Balkh stands on a plain, about six miles from

the hills, and not upon them, as is erroneously represented. There

are many inequalities in the surrounding fields, which may arise from

ruins and rubbish. The city itself, like Babylon, has become a perfect

mine of bricks for the surrounding country. These are of an oblong

shape, rather square. Most of the old gardens are now neglected and

overgrown with weeds; the aqueducts are dried up; but there are clumps

of trees in many directions. The people have a great veneration for

the city; believing it was one of the earliest peopled portions of the

earth, and that the re-occupation of it will be one of the signs of

the approaching end of the world. The fruit of Balkh is most luscious;

particularly the apricots, which are nearly as large as apples. They

are almost below value; for 2000 of them were to be purchased for a

rupee; and, with iced water, they are indeed luxuries, though dangerous

ones. Snow is brought in quantities from the mountains south of Balkh,

about twenty miles distant, and sold for a trifle throughout the year.

~Climate of Balkh.~

The clime of Balkh is very insalubrious, but it is not disagreeable. In

June, the thermometer did not rise above 80°, and the next month is the

hottest in the year. The wheat ripens in that month, which makes the

harvest fifty days later than Peshawur. Its unhealthiness is ascribed

to the water, which is so mixed up with earth and clay as to look like

a puddle after rain. The soil is of a greyish colour, like pipe-clay,

and very rich; when wet, it is slimy. The crops are good; the wheat

stalks grow as high as in England, and do not present the stunted

stubble of India. In Balkh, the water has been distributed, with great

labour, by aqueducts from a river. Of these there are said to be no

less than eighteen; but many are not now discoverable. They frequently

overflow, and leave marshes, which are rapidly dried up under the

sun’s rays. This seems to account for the diseases of the place. All

old cities and ruins are, perhaps, more or less unhealthy. It is not

probable, however, that so many kings and princes would have patronised

a site which was always unfavourable to the health of man; and Balkh

itself is not situated in a country naturally marshy, but on a gentle

slope which sinks towards the Oxus, about 1800 feet above the level of

the sea. All the water of its river is lost long before reaching that

stream.

~Coins found at Balkh.~

At Balkh, I used every endeavour to collect ancient coins, which could

not fail to be valuable in such classic ground. They brought me several

copper ones, similar to those I found at Manikyala in the Punjab,

representing a full-length figure, holding a censer or pot in his right

hand, and dressed in a high cap; which, I believe, determines the

whole series of them to be Persian. It is well known that India formed

one of the satrapies of Darius; and we read of a connexion between it

and Persia in ancient times, which will perhaps clear up the history

of these coins. The execution is rude; and as they differ from one

another, it would appear they are rather medals than coins. I have,

in the succeeding volume, given accurate engravings of these relics.

Those who feel interested in the subject will find that some of a like

description have been found in India and mentioned in the Transactions

of the Asiatic Society of Bengal. Among the coins which I examined at

Balkh, there were many Cufic and Arabic, and a whole series of those

of the emperors of Hindostan. One gold piece of Shah Jehan spoke well

for the execution of his age. It is remarkable, that, in the countries

north of Hindoo Koosh, the current coinage of the present time is that

of the emperors of Delhi who ruled prior to the age of Nadir.

~Cafila-bashee.~

On the 12th of June, the caravan arrived from Khooloom with our people,

and we prepared to accompany it in its onward journey to Bokhara. For

three days we had been living with our friend the Cafila-bashee, who

managed to get rice and meat for us from the bazar; but we made a

bungling matter of our cookery. This was but a minor inconvenience, and

not without a hope of remedy. It was now necessary, however, to give

our Cafila-bashee leave to return to Cabool; since an Afghan would be

of little use among the Uzbeks. I was, indeed, sorry to part with Hyat,

as he had a temper and disposition admirably fitted for managing the

people, and had friends every where who esteemed and respected him. I

feared we should miss the man who used to get us food and lodging, when

procurable, and tell lies by wholesale regarding our character when

necessary. We made him presents in return for his good offices;--their

value far surpassed his expectations; so that he was more than happy.

I gave him a note of hand expressive of our sense of his services; and

he ran about in every direction to assist in our setting out, took the

Cafila-bashee of the new caravan aside, and pointed out to him how

much it would be his interest to serve us: he waited till the caravan

departed; and seeing us in our panniers, (the new mode of travelling

on camels,) he bade us farewell, consigned us to God, and left us to

plod our way. As an instance of this man’s honesty, I may mention,

that on his return to Cabool he found a knife, which we had left in

a caravansary; this he despatched by a trusty man who was coming to

Bokhara, along with a letter expressive of his remembrance of us, and

thanks for our kindness.

~Grave of Mr. Moorcroft.~

The caravan assembled outside the city, and near to another melancholy

spot, the grave of poor Moorcroft, which we were conducted to see.

Mr. Guthrie lies by his side. It was a bright moonlight night, but

we had some difficulty in finding the spot. At last, under a mud

wall which had been purposely thrown over, our eyes were directed to

it. The bigoted people of Balkh refused permission to the travellers

being interred in their burial ground; and only sanctioned it near

the city, upon condition of its being concealed, lest any Mahommedan

might mistake it for a tomb of one of the true believers, and offer up

a blessing as he passed it. It was impossible to view such a scene at

the dead of night, without many melancholy reflections. A whole party

buried within twelve miles of each other, held out small encouragement

to us, who were pursuing the same track, and led on by nearly similar

motives. It was fortunate that the living experienced no such contempt

as the dead, for we received no slight from any one, though our creed

and our nation were not concealed. The corpse of Moorcroft was brought

from Andkhooee, where he perished, at a distance from his party. He was

attended by a few followers, all of whom were plundered by the people.

If he died a natural death, I do not think he sunk without exciting

suspicions; he was unaccompanied by any of his European associates or

confidential servants, and brought back lifeless on a camel, after a

short absence of eight days; the health of Mr. Trebeck did not admit of

his examining the body.

~Quit Balkh.~

We left Balkh at midnight, with a small caravan of twenty camels; and

now exchanged our horses for these useful animals. Two panniers, called

“kujawas,” are thrown across each camel: the Dr. weighed against an

Afghan; and I was balanced by my Hindoostanee servant. At first, this

sort of conveyance was most inconvenient; for the panniers were but

four feet long and two and a half wide, and it required some suppleness

and ingenuity to stow away a body of five feet nine inches in such a

space, tumbled in like a bale of goods. Custom soon reconciled us to

the jolting of the camels and the smallness of the conveyance; and it

was a great counterbalance to discover that we could read and even note

without observation.

~Ancient Bactriana. Correctness of Quintus Curtius.~

A march of thirty miles brought us to the limits of the water of Balkh,

through a rich country every where intersected by canals. Such is

their effect on the temperature, that the thermometer fell below 52°

in the morning; though more than two thirds of the land lay waste. Our

camels revelled on a thorny shrub called “chooch” or “zooz” by the

natives. The language of the most graphic writer could not delineate

this country with greater exactness than Quintus Curtius has done, and

I marked the following passage on the spot:--“The face of Bactriana is

contrastingly diversified: in many places, luxuriant trees and vines

yield fruit of fine growth and flavour; numerous springs (canals?)

irrigate a rich soil. The more generous land is sowed with corn;

other fields afford pasturage. Further, great part of the country is

deformed by tracts of barren sand, in which a mournful absence of

vegetation refuses nourishment to man. When the winds blow from the

Indian Ocean, the floating dust is swept into masses. The cultivated

portion of the country is crowded with inhabitants, and well stocked

with horses. Bactra, the capital, is situated under Mount Paropamisus.

The river Bactrus, which washes its walls, gives name to the city

and province.”[21] The trees, fruit, and corn of Balkh have a great

celebrity; its horses are equally well known. Though it has no springs,

and a river does not now pass its walls, yet the country is intersected

by the canals of one that flows from the neighbouring mountains, the

water of which is artificially divided before reaching the town.

~The desert of the Toorkmuns.~

On the 14th of June we entered the desert, and travelled all night on

our way to the Oxus. We left the great high road from Balkh to Kilef,

the usual ferry, from a fear of robbers, and journeyed westward. At

daylight we halted, and had an insight of what we were to expect in

the deserts of Tartary. The mountains of Hindoo Koosh had entirely

disappeared below the horizon, and a wide plain like an ocean of sand

surrounded us on all sides. Here and there were a few round huts, or,

as they are called, “khirgahs,” the abode of the erratic Toorkmuns.

The inhabitants were few in number; at first sight, they present a

fierce and terrible aspect to a stranger. We alighted near one of their

settlements; and they strutted about dressed in huge black sheepskin

caps, but did not molest us; and I have here only to introduce our

new acquaintances, since we shall have ample opportunities to speak of

them hereafter. We pitched our camp in their desert, and found a scanty

supply of water that had trickled down thus far from the canals of

Balkh. We had now no tent, nor shelter of any kind, but a coarse single

blanket, which we used to stretch across two sets of panniers. Even

this flimsy covering sheltered us from the sun’s rays; and at night

we had it removed, and slept in the open air. Our food now consisted

of bread and tea; for the Toorkmuns often object to dispose of their

sheep, since it injures their estate; and we could only look on their

countless flocks with a desire to possess a single lamb, which often

could not be gratified. Europeans, who are so much accustomed to animal

food, are sensible of the change to a diet of bread; but we found it

tolerably nutritive, and had much refreshment from the tea, which we

drank with it at all hours. I found that abstinence from wine and

spirits proved rather salutary than otherwise; and I doubt if we could

have undergone the vicissitudes of climate, had we used such stimulants.

~Reach the Oxus.~

It appeared that we had not altogether escaped the tracks of plunderers

by our diversion from the main road, and we therefore hired a guard

of Toorkmuns to escort us to the Oxus, now only a march distant. We

saddled at sunset; and after a journey of fifteen hours, and a distance

of thirty miles, found ourselves on the banks of that great river,

which I gazed on with feelings of pure delight. It now ran before us

in all the grandeur of solitude, as a reward for the toil and anxiety

which we had experienced in approaching it. It might not have been

prudent to commit ourselves to a guard of Toorkmuns in such a desert;

but they conducted us in safety, and made few or no enquiries about us.

They spoke nothing but Turkish. They rode good horses, and were armed

with a sword and long spear. They were not encumbered with shields and

powder-horns, like other Asiatics; and a few only had matchlocks. They

beguiled the time by singing together in a language that is harsh but

sonorous. They appeared to be the very _beau idéal_ of light dragoons;

and their caps gave to the whole of them a becoming uniformity. They

never use more than a single rein, which sets off their horses to

advantage. Some of the Toorkmun chiefs, I afterwards observed, had

rosettes and loose pieces of leather ornamented with gold and silver,

which fell behind the ear of the animal, giving his head a showy and

becoming appearance. Till within a mile and a half of the river, we

had traversed a peculiarly inhospitable and unpromising country, quite

destitute of water; and its stunted herbage either protruded from

mounds of loose drifting sand, or made its appearance through sheets of

hard clay. I shall long remember our dreary advance on the Oxus, and

the wild society in which it was made.

We halted on the banks of the river, near the small village of Khoju

Salu. The vicinity of the Oxus is intersected by aqueducts for nearly

two miles, but by no means industriously cultivated; it was a better

sign of a more tranquil country, to see each peasant’s house standing

at a distance from that of his neighbour, and in the midst of his own

fields. We were detained for two days on the banks of the river, till

it came to our turn of the ferry-boat; which transferred our caravan,

on the 17th, to the northern bank, or the country of Toorkistan, more

commonly known to Europeans by the name of Tartary. The river was

upwards of 800 yards wide, and about 20 feet deep. Its waters were

loaded with clay, and the current passed on at the rate of about three

miles and a half an hour. This river is called Jihoon and Amoo by the

Asiatics.

~Singular manner of crossing it.~

The mode in which we passed the Oxus was singular, and, I believe,

quite peculiar to this part of the country. We were drawn by a pair

of horses, who were yoked to the boat, on each bow, by a rope fixed

to the hair of the mane. The bridle is then put on as if the horse

were to be mounted; the boat is pushed into the stream, and, without

any other assistance than the horses, is ferried directly across the

most rapid channel. A man on board holds the reins of each horse, and

allows them to play loosely in the mouth, urging him to swim; and,

thus guided, he advances without difficulty. There is not an oar to

aid in impelling the boat; and the only assistance from those on board

consists in manœuvring a rude rounded pole at the stern, to prevent

the vessel from wheeling in the current, and to give both horses clear

water to swim. They sometimes use four horses; and in that case, two

are fixed at the stern. These horses require no preparatory training,

since they indiscriminately yoke all that cross the river. One of the

boats was dragged over by the aid of two of our jaded ponies; and the

vessel which attempted to follow us without them, was carried so far

down the stream as to detain us a whole day on the banks, till it could

be brought up to the camp of our caravan. By this ingenious mode, we

crossed a river nearly half a mile wide, and running at the rate of

three miles and a half an hour, in fifteen minutes of actual sailing;

but there was some detention from having to thread our way among the

sand banks that separated the branches. I see nothing to prevent the

general adoption of this expeditious mode of passing a river, and it

would be an invaluable improvement below the Ghats of India. I had

never before seen the horse converted to such a use; and in my travels

through India, I had always considered that noble animal as a great

incumbrance in crossing a river.

~The caravan.~

After our passage of the Oxus, we commenced our journey towards

Bokhara, and halted at Shorkudduk, where there were no inhabitants, and

about fifteen or twenty brackish wells. The water was clear, but bitter

and ill tasted. Our manner of journeying now became more agreeable. We

started about five or six P.M., and travelled till eight or nine next

morning. The stages exceeded twenty-five miles; but camels cannot march

for a continuance beyond that distance, on account of heat. At night,

they move steadily forward at the rate of two miles an hour, and are

urged on by a pair of tingling bells hung from the breast or ears of

the favourite, that precedes each “quittar” or string. The sound is

enlivening and cheerful; and when their jingle ceases by a halt of the

caravan, the silence which succeeds, in the midst of an uninhabited

waste, is truly striking. At the setting and rising of the sun, the

caravan halts to admit of the performance of prayers; and the sonorous

sound of “Ullaho Akbar” summons all “true believers” to the presence of

God. They stroke down their beards, and, with their eyes turned towards

Mecca, perform the genuflexions prescribed by their creed. We sat and

looked at the solemnity, without suffering either taunts or abuse;

and experienced a toleration that would have done credit to the most

civilised country of Europe. In the society of a caravan, there is much

good fellowship, and many valuable lessons for a selfish man. It levels

all distinctions between master and servant; and where both share every

thing, it is impossible to be singular. Our servants now ate from

the same dishes as ourselves. An Asiatic will never take a piece of

bread, without offering a portion of it to those near him. The Indian

Mahommedans were surprised at their brethren in the faith, who gave us

a share of their food, and freely partook of our own.

~Kiz Kooduk.~

We next reached Kiz Kooduk, or the Maiden’s Well, as the words signify

in Turkish. I blessed the young lady who had dug it; for we had

suffered much from the want of water, and now found a beautiful well

in the midst of some hundred others, all of which, as well as the

springs we met on the road, were salt. It is said to have been dug by

a virgin. Yesterday we had no water; to-day we had no wood; and it was

only by collecting the dung of the camels that we could boil the water

for our tea. Who could have imagined that we were approaching those

paradises of the East, Samarcand and Bokhara. We had been travelling

among low waving hills, or rather ridges, destitute of trees or wood;

covered with a dry kind of grass, growing on a soil that was hard

and gravelly. The wells were about eighteen feet deep. At different

intervals on the road, we saw _robats_ or caravansaries, which have

been constructed with large covered cisterns, called “surdabas,” or

water coolers, to collect the rain water in behalf of the travellers.

The whole of these were now empty. The climate was dry and variable;

and the thermometer, which stood at 103° in the day, fell to 60° at

night, which was cool and delightful. In this country, a steady wind

generally blows from the north. Our day broke at twenty minutes after

three, and we had a long and refreshing twilight, which compensated in

some degree for the scorching heat of the sun.

~A Khwaju. Literature.~

One of the tea merchants of the caravan paid us frequent visits at

our halting ground, and we soon became intimate with him. He was a

Khwaju, as the followers of the first caliphs are called, and was both

a priest and a merchant. He appeared pleased with our society; and

we drank tea together on the banks of the Oxus. We told him our true

story. From our intercourse with this Khwaju, I gained some insight

into the state of literature among the Uzbeks. I gave him the perusal

of a small Persian work, the “Memoirs of King Shooja of Cabool,” which

I had received from that unfortunate monarch. The book was written by

the King himself; and gives a detail of his life and adventures, in a

simple style, free from extracts of the Koran, metaphors, and other

extravagancies of Oriental authors. It also dispenses with any mention

of those miracles which never fail to be wrought in favour of our

Eastern despot, according to the accounts of historians. The work, in

fact, was what would be called by us an interesting detail of events.

The Khwaju returned it to me a few days after, saying, that it was a

dry production, not enlivened by the fear of God, or a remembrance of

the Prophet, but entirely occupied with matters of a personal nature.

Since that was the object of the book, he could not have given it

higher praise. The Khwaju is not the only person who has found such

faults in similar works, for a Right Reverend Divine[22], who furnished

us with so admirable and interesting a journal of his travels in

India, has been blamed by some for its worldliness. Since literature

among the Mahommedans is exclusively confined to the moollahs, we

should be the less surprised at their finding fault with a work that

had not a due sprinkling of the literature of their order.

~Amazons of Lakay.~

Near the country we now entered, there is a tribe of Uzbeks, called

Lakay, who are celebrated for their plundering propensities. A saying

among them curses every one who dies in his bed, since a true Lakay

should lay down his life in a foray or “chupao.” I was told that

the females sometimes accompany their husbands on these marauding

expeditions; but it is stated, with greater probability, that the young

ladies plunder the caravans which pass near their home. This tribe

lives near Hissar, which is a romantic neighbourhood; since, besides

the Amazons of Lakay, three or four neighbouring tribes claim a descent

from Alexander the Great.

~Kirkinjuk.~

~A slave.~

Our next march, to a place called Kirkinjuk, brought us to a settlement

of the Toorkmuns, and the country changed from hillocks to mounds of

bare sand. The well water was now double the depth, or about thirty-six

feet from the surface. The flocks of the Toorkmuns cropped the scanty

grass around us; and horses, camels, and sheep roamed about loose, as

in a state of nature. A shepherd who tended these flocks lingered

long near our encampment. He was an unfortunate Persian, who had been

captured about eight years before near Meshid, along with 300 other

persons, and now sighed for his liberty, that he might visit the famous

shrine of Imam Ruza in his own holy city. His name had been Mahommed;

it was changed to Doulut, or the Rich--a singular cognomen for a poor

wretch who tended sheep in a desert under a scorching sun. He gave us

a favourable account of his treatment by his master, who intended to

purchase a wife for him; but he had no hope of his liberty. The poor

man prowled all day about our caravan, and expressed many a wish to

accompany it; he had, however, been purchased for thirty pieces of

gold, and if he had no riches of his own, he yet formed a part of those

of his owner.

~Knotty points.~

I overheard a controversy among some of the merchants regarding

Christians, whether they were or were not infidels (Kaffirs), and, as

may be imagined, was not a little anxious to hear the decision. One

person, who was a priest, maintained that they could not be infidels,

since they were people of the book. When it was asserted that they

did not believe in Mahommed, the subject became more complicated. I

learned, from their conversation, that a universal belief prevails

among the Mahommedans of the overthrow of their creed by Christians.

Christ, they say, lives, but Mahommed is dead; yet their deductions

are curious, since Jesus is to descend from the fourth heaven, and the

whole world will be _Mahommedanised!_ A singular instance of blasphemy

was related by this party. “A native of Budukhshan blackened his face,

and sallied forth into the highway, telling all the passengers that

as he had prayed to God without any good effect for eight years, he

now appeared to disgrace the Creator in the eyes of his creatures.”

Fanatical madman!

~Snowy Mountains. Kurshee.~

In the afternoon of the 20th, as we approached the town of Kurshee,

we descried at sunset, far to the eastward of us, a stupendous range

of mountains covered with snow. As this was in the middle of summer,

their elevation must be greater than is assigned to any range north

of Hindoo Koosh. They were at a distance of perhaps 150 miles, and we

could distinguish them but faintly on the following morning, and never

saw them again. At daylight we came to the öasis of Kurshee, a cheering

scene, after having marched from the Oxus, a distance of eighty-five

miles, without seeing a tree. On nearing this town, we entered a flat

and champaign country, which was entirely desolate, till within the

limits of the river: tortoises, lizards, and ants, appeared to be its

only inhabitants. As a welcome to this first Tartar town, one of our

friends in the caravan sent us, _as a delicacy_, two bowls of “keimuk

chah,” or tea, on which the fat floated so profusely that I took it for

soup; but it was really tea mixed with salt and fat, and is the morning

beverage of the Uzbeks. Custom never reconciled me to this tea, but our

Afghan fellow-travellers spoke of it in loud strains of praise; nor did

the manner in which our gift speedily disappeared, when handed over to

them, at all belie their taste.

~Sickness of our party.~

We had looked forward to our arrival at an inhabited place with much

delight, after our marches in the desert; but we here experienced that

misfortune to which travellers are more liable than other people,

sickness. Some of us had been complaining for a few days previously,

and immediately on our arrival, I was prostrated by a severe attack of

intermittent fever; the surveyor was seized at the same time; and, on

the following day, the doctor and two others of our party were ill. The

merchants and people of the caravan likewise suffered, and we came to

the conclusion that we must have caught the disease at Balkh, or on the

banks of the Oxus. The terror of the Balkh fever had vanished, and we

had not feared the seeds of disease. We adopted the usual treatment

of India, taking emetics and medicine; and, in my own case, I followed

them up with quinine, which had the most happy effect. In three days

my teeth ceased to chatter, and my body to burn; but the doctor, who

persisted in treating himself with calomel _secundum artem_, was not

so fortunate, and he did not shake off the disease till long after

we had left the country. One of our fellow-travellers, a merchant

of Budukhshan, who had endeared himself to us, died on his reaching

Bokhara. Our chances of life were far less than his: he offered up

sacrifices, and refused quinine. Our stay at Kurshee was prolonged for

three or four days, during which we lived in a garden under some trees,

and without other shelter. It was a miserable hospital; but we quenched

our parching thirst, under a thermometer at 108°, with sherbet of

cherries, cooled by ice, which we here found in great plenty.

~Alarms of a traveller.~

~Letter to the minister of Bokhara.~

In the midst of our indisposition, we were disturbed by some vexatious

rumours regarding ourselves. We were informed that the king had heard

of our approach, and not only had prohibited our entering the city of

Bokhara, but objected to our prosecuting the journey. This tale was

further exaggerated by the mention of certain yessawuls or officers

of the court having been sent to seize us, which we credited the

more readily, since these persons paid us no less than three visits

for the examination of our baggage, which in nowise contributed to

our repose. We had become pretty well accustomed to rumours of every

kind, for an European who travels in eastern countries must expect

many alarms. I resolved to take immediate steps to counteract any

bad impression towards us, and forthwith addressed the minister of

Bokhara, and despatched Sooliman, an Afghan, one of our own people,

with the letter. I approached the minister with all the forms of

eastern etiquette and eloquence; and, as we were in a bigoted country,

denominated him “the Tower of Islam; the Gem of the Faith, the Star

of Religion, the Dispenser of Justice, Pillar of the State,” &c. &c.

I went on to inform him particularly of our circumstances, and of our

having passed in safety through the dominions of other princes, and

stated the delight which we now felt at being in the neighbourhood

of Bokhara, “the citadel of Islam.” I concluded by telling him that

in all countries we had considered ourselves as the subjects of the

ruler, and that we now approached the capital of the Commander of the

Faithful (so the King of Bokhara is called), whose protection of the

merchant and the traveller is known in the utmost corners of the East.

I had, on former occasions, found the advantage of being the first to

convey information of our own approach, nor did I doubt a good result

from this communication. We were not deceived, and before reaching the

city, discovered that a lying Persian in our caravan had given currency

to these rumours, which were altogether destitute of foundation. The

minister sent back our servant to meet us, and say, that we should be

welcome in Bokhara.

~Kurshee.~

Our halt at Kurshee gave us some opportunity of seeing the place. It

is a straggling town, a mile long, with a considerable bazar, and

about 10,000 inhabitants. The houses are flat roofed, but mean. A

mud fort, surrounded by a wet ditch, forms a respectable defence on

the south-west side of the town. A river, which rises from Shuhur

Subz, about fifty miles distant, and famous as the birthplace of

Timour, passes north of Kurshee, and enables its inhabitants to form

innumerable gardens, which are shaded by trees groaning under fruit,

and some lofty poplars. These trees have a tall and noble aspect;

and their leaves, when rustling in the wind, assume a white silvery

appearance, though actually green, which has a curious and pleasing

effect on the landscape. Never were the blessings of water more

apparent than in this spot, which must otherwise have been a barren

waste. On the banks of the rivulet and its branches, every thing is

verdant and beautiful; away from them, all is sandy and sterile.

Kurshee is the largest place in the kingdom of Bokhara, next to the

capital. Its öasis is about twenty-two miles broad, but the river

expends itself in the surrounding fields.

~Market at Karsan.~

~Uzbeks.~

We marched from Kurshee to Karsan, sixteen miles distant, which is a

thriving village, situated on the extremity of this öasis. We arrived

on the market-day, for in the towns of Toorkistan they hold their

bazars on stated days, as in Europe. We met many people proceeding to

the throng, but not a single individual on foot--all were equestrians.

A stranger is amused at seeing a horse literally converted into a

family conveyance, and a man jogging along with his wife behind him.

The ladies are of course veiled, like most females in this country:

they prefer blue cloths to white, as in Cabool, and Uzbeks are

sombre-looking figures. We now found ourselves among the Uzbeks, a

grave, broad-faced, peaceable people, with a Tartar expression of

countenance. They are fair, and some of them are handsome; but the

great bulk of the people, the men at least, are without personal

beauty. I was struck with the great number of old looking men among

them. We had now left the Toorkmun tribes, who do not here extend much

beyond the Oxus.

~Abdoolla Khan. His munificence.~

In our second march from Kurshee, we halted at Kuroul-tuppa, where

there is a caravansary built by Abdoolla, a king of Bokhara, who

reigned in the sixteenth century. It put me in mind of Hindostan and

its monarchs. We also passed three large reservoirs (surdabas), which

were made by order of this philanthropic prince. They had been erected

at great expense in a flat and desert country, and the rain water that

falls is conducted to them by ditches often from a great distance.

The king Abdoolla had made a pilgrimage to Mecca, but imbibed an

impression that it had not proved acceptable in the sight of God. In

the hope of propitiating divine favour, he set about the construction

of caravansarais and cisterns in all parts of his dominions, acts more

beneficial to mankind, and therefore more acceptable, I venture to

believe, than pilgrimages to shrines or tombs.

~Acquaintances.~