crowd, who,
however, were evidently inclined to be friendly, and escorted me to
the house of the head-man, under whose guidance I visited the city.

The houses are of stone, two-storied, and mortised into the rock,
which gives them the appearance, from below, as if a touch would send
them toppling over, while a curious feature is that none of their
windows looks inwards to the street--all are in the outside wall
facing the desert. I took coffee with the head-man on his balcony--a
wooden construction, projecting over a dizzy height, and supported
by a couple of rickety-looking beams. It was nervous work, for the
flooring, which was rotten and broken into great holes, creaked
ominously. I could see Gerome (who had evidently missed me) bustling
about the post-house, and reduced, from this height, to the size of a
fly. Making this my excuse, I quickly finished my coffee, and bade my
host farewell, nor was I sorry to be once more safe on _terra firma_.

Yezdi-Ghazt, which has a population of about five hundred, is very
old, and is said to have existed long previous to the Mohammedan
conquest. The present population are a continual source of dread to
the neighbouring towns and villages, on account of their lawlessness
and thieving proclivities, and mix very little with any of their
neighbours, who have given the unsavoury city the Turkish nickname
of "Pokloo Kalla," or "Filth Castle." Yezdi-Ghazt would not be a
desirable residence during an earthquake. The latter are of frequent
occurrence round here. Many of the villages have been laid in ruins,
but, curiously enough, the rock-city has, up till now, never even felt
a shock.

A ride of under fifty miles through level and fertile country brought
us to Abadeh, a pretty village standing in the midst of gardens and
vineyards, enclosed by high mud walls. A European telegraph official,
Mr. G----, resides here. As we passed his house--a neat white stone
building easily distinguishable among the brown mud huts--a native
servant stopped us. His master would not be back till sunset, but had
left directions that we were to be well cared for till his return.
The temptation of a bed and dinner were too much, and, as time was no
object, and snowy passes things of the past, we halted for the night.

An hour later, comfortably settled on Mr. G---- 's sofa, and dozing
over a cigar and a volume of _Punch_, my rest was suddenly disturbed
by a loud bang at the sitting-room door, which, flyi