of stray travellers, making
them believe the pass is dangerous and charging them a small sum for his
services as guard. It is not at all unlikely that he is the present
incumbent of an hereditary right to extort blackmail from such travellers
along this lonely road as may be prevailed upon without resorting to
violence to pay it, and is but humbly following in the footsteps of his
worthy sire and still more worthy grandsire.

The pass ahead is neither very steep nor difficult, and the summit once
crossed, and the first few hundred yards of rough and abrupt declivity
overcome, I am able to mount and wheel swiftly down long gradients of
smooth, hard gravel for four or five miles, alighting at the walled
village of Assababad in the presence of its entire population.

Some keen-sighted villager has observed afar off the strange apparition
gliding swiftly down the open gravel slopes, and the excited population
have all rushed out in breathless expectancy to try and make out its
character. The villagers of Assababad are simple-hearted people, and both
men and women clap their hands like delighted children to have so rare a
novelty suddenly appear upon the scene of their usually humdrum and
uneventful lives. Quilts are spread for me on the sunny side of the
village wall, and they gather eagerly around to feast to the full their
unaccustomed eyes. A couple of the men round up a matronly goat and exact
from her the tribute of a bowl of milk; others contribute bread, and the
frugal repast is seasoned with the unconcealed delight of my hospitable
audience.

They are not overly clean in their habits, though, these rude and
isolated people; and to keep off prying housewives, bent on satisfying
their curiosity regarding the texture of my clothing and the comparative
whiteness of my skin, I am compelled to adopt the defensive measure of
counter curiosity. The signal and instantaneous success of this plan,
resulting in the hasty, scrambling retreat of the women, is greeted with
boisterous merriment, by the entire crowd.

I have about made up my mind to remain over-night with the hospitable
people of Assababad; but at the solicitation of a Persian traveller who
comes along, I conclude to accompany him to a building observable in the
distance ahead which he explains is a small but comfortable serai. The
good villagers seem very loath to let me, go so soon, and one young man
kneels down and kisses my dusty geivehs and begs me to take h