y its inhabitants the "Roof of the World," for it seems to them
to rise like a roof above all the rest of the earth. From this great
centre run the lofty mountain ranges of the earth, the Himalayas, the
Trans-himalaya, Karakorum, Kuen-lun, and the Tien-shan on the east, the
Hindu-Kush on the west. If you examine the map you will see that most of
the ranges of Asia and Europe, and the most important, are connected
with it. The Tibetan ranges extend far into China and beyond the Indian
peninsula. The Tien-shan is only the first link in a series of mountains
which stretch north-eastwards throughout Asia. The continuation of the
Hindu-Kush is found in the mountains of northern Persia, in the Caucasus
and the chains of Asia Minor, the Balkan Peninsula, the Alps and
Pyrenees. The Pamir is like the body of a cuttlefish, which throws out
arms in all directions. The Pamir and all the huge mountain ranges which
have their roots in this ganglion are the skeleton of Asia, the
framework round which the lowlands cling like masses of muscle. Rivers,
streams, brooks, and rivulets, are the arteries and capillaries of the
Asiatic body. The deserts of the interior are the sickly consumptive
parts of the body where vitality is low, while the peninsulas are the
limbs which facilitate communication between different peoples across
the intervening seas.

In the month of February, 1894, I was at Margelan, which is the capital
of Ferghana, the granary of Central Asia, a rich and fruitful valley
begirt on all sides by mountains. I had got together a small reliable
caravan of eleven horses and three men, one of them being Islam Bay, who
was afterwards to serve me faithfully for many years. We did not need
to take tents with us, for the Governor gave orders to the Kirghizes,
to set up two of their black felt tents wherever I wished to pass the
night. We had a good supply of provisions in our boxes, straw and barley
in sacks, and steel spades, axes, and alpenstocks, for we had to travel
through deep snow, and over smooth, slippery ice. We forgot to procure a
dog, but one came to us on the way, begging to be allowed to follow us.

We march southwards up on to the Pamir, following a narrow valley where
a foaming stream tumbles over ice-draped boulders. We cross it by
narrow, shaking bridges of timber which look like matches when we gaze
down on them in the valley bottom from the slopes above. It thaws in the
sun, but freezes at night, and our path is