t every meal, our Russian
host would start in with a half-tumbler of vodka, dispose of a bottle of
beer in the intervals, and then top off with two or three glasses of tea.
The mistress of the household, being limited in her beverages to tea and
soup, would usually make up in quantity what was lacking in variety. In
fact, one day she informed us that she had not imbibed a drop of water for
over six years. For this, however, there is a very plausible excuse. With
the water at Tashkend, as with that from the Zerafshan at Bokhara, a
dangerous worm called _reshta_ is absorbed into the system. Nowhere have
we drunk better tea than around the steaming samovar of our Tashkend host.
No peasant is too poor, either in money or in sentiment, to buy and feel
the cheering influence of tea. Even the Cossack, in his forays into the
wilds of central Asia, is sustained by it. Unlike the Chinese, the
Russians consider sugar a necessary concomitant of tea-drinking. There are
three methods of sweetening tea: to put the sugar in the glass; to place a
lump of sugar in the mouth, and suck the tea through it; to hang a lump in
the midst of a tea-drinking circle, to be swung around for each in turn to
touch with his tongue, and then to take a swallow of tea.

The meaning of the name Tashkend is "city of stone," but a majority of the
houses are one-story mud structures, built low, so as to prevent any
disastrous effects from earthquakes. The roofs are so flat and poorly
constructed that during the rainy season a dry ceiling is rather the
exception than the rule. Every building is covered with whitewash or white
paint, and fronts directly on the street. There are plenty of back and
side yards, but none in front. This is not so bad on the broad streets of
a Russian town. In Tashkend they are exceptionally wide, with ditches on
each side through which the water from the Tchirtchick ripples along
beneath the double, and even quadruple, rows of poplars, acacias, and
willows. These trees grow here with remarkable luxuriance, from a mere
twig stuck into the ground. Although twenty years of Russian irrigation
has given Nature a chance to rear thousands of trees on former barren
wastes, yet wood is still comparatively scarce and dear.

The administration buildings of the city are for the most part exceedingly
plain and unpretentious. In striking contrast is the new Russian
cathedral, the recently erected school, and a large retail store built by
a reside