nstance a cure was supposed to be effected by writing a prayer on a
piece of buttered bread to be eaten by the patient.

[Illustration: ON THE ROAD BETWEEN CHIMKEND AND VERNOYE.]

Being users but not patrons of the Russian post-roads, we were not legally
entitled to the conveniences of the post-stations. Tipping alone, as we
found on our journey from Samarkand, was not always sufficient to preclude
a request during the night to vacate the best quarters for the
post-traveler, especially if he happened to wear the regulation brass
button. To secure us against this inconvenience, and to gain some special
attention, a letter was obtained from the overseer of the Turkestan post
and telegraph district. This proved advantageous on many occasions, and
once, at Auli-eta, was even necessary. We were surveyed with suspicious
glances as soon as we entered the station-house, and when we asked for
water to lave our hands and face, we were directed to the irrigating ditch
in the street. Our request for a better room was answered by the question,
if the one we had was not good enough, and how long we intended to occupy
that. Evidently our English conversation had gained for us the covert
reputation of being English spies, and this was verified in the minds of
our hosts when we began to ask questions about the city prisons we had
passed on our way. To every interrogation they replied, "I don't know."
But presto, change, on the presentation of documents! Apologies were now
profuse, and besides tea, bread, and eggs, the usual rations of a Russian
post-station, we were exceptionally favored with chicken soup and
_verainyik_, the latter consisting of cheese wrapped and boiled in dough,
and then served in butter.

It has been the custom for travelers in Russia to decry the Russian
post-station, but the fact is that an appreciation of this rather
primitive form of accommodation depends entirely upon whether you approach
it from a European hotel or from a Persian khan. Some are clean, while
others are dirty. Nevertheless, it was always a welcome sight to see a
small white building looming up in the dim horizon at the close of a long
day's ride, and, on near approach, to observe the black and white striped
post in front, and idle tarantasses around it. At the door would be found
the usual crowd of Kirghiz post-drivers. After the presentation of
documents to the _starosta_, who would hesitate at first about quartering
our horses in the travel