cheese and sheerah in the semi-seclusion of a suburban bake-house, my
guide conducts me to the caravanserai, receives his backsheesh, and loses
himself in the crowd that instantly fills the place.

The news of my arrival seems to set the whole city in a furore; besides
the crowds below, the galched roof of the caravanserai becomes standing
room for a mass of human beings, to the imminent danger of breaking it
in. So, at least, thinks the caravanserai-jee, who becomes anxious about
it and tries to persuade them to come down; but he might as well attempt
to summon down from above the unlistening clouds.

Around two sides of the caravanserai compound is a narrow, bricked walk,
elevated to the level of the menzil floors; at the imminent risk of
breaking my neck, I endeavor to appease the clamorous multitude, riding
to and fro for the edification of what is probably the wildest-looking
assembly that could be collected anywhere in the world. Afghans, with
tall, conical, gold-threaded head-dresses, converted into monster turbans
by winding around them yards and yards of white or white-and-blue cloth,
three feet of which is left dangling down the back; Beloochees in flowing
gowns that were once white; Arabs in the striped mantles and peculiar
headdress of their country; dervishes, mollahs, seyuds, and the whole
fantastic array of queer-looking people living in Beerjand, travelling
through, or visiting here to trade.

Some of the Afghans wear a turban and kammerbund, all of one piece; after
winding the long cotton sheet a number of times about the peaked
head-dress, it is passed down the back and then ends its career in the
form of a kammerbund about the waist. Fights and tumults occur as the
result of the caravanserai-jee's attempt to shut the gate and keep them
out, and in despair he puts me in a room and locks the door. In less than
five minutes the door is broken down, and a second attempt to seclude
myself results in my being summarily pelted out again with stones through
a hole in the roof.

A Yezdi traveller, occupying one of the menzils--all of which at
Beeriand are provided with doors and locks--now invites me to his
quarters; locking the door and keeping me out of sight, he hopes by
making me his guest to assist in getting rid of the crowd. Whatever his
object, its consummation is far from being realized; the unappeased
curiosity of the crowds of newly arriving people finds expression in
noisy shouts and violent h