watchfullness, his appearance and demeanor naturally conjuring up
reflections of faithful servitors about the persons of knights and nobles
of old; he is apparently the Khan of Ghalakua's confidential retainer and
general supervisor of affairs about his person and headquarters.

Our quarters are in the bala-khana of a small half-ruined konak outside
the village, and shortly after retiring thither the khan's sprightly
little retainer brings in tea and fried eggs, besides pomegranates and
roses for myself. A new departure makes its appearance in the shape of
sugar sprinkled over the eggs. While we are discussing these refreshments
our attendant stands in the doorway and addresses the sowars at some
length in Persian. He is apparently delivering instructions received from
his master; whatever it is all about, he delivers it with the air of an
orator addressing an audience, and he supplements his remarks with
gestures that would do credit to a professional elocutionist. He is as
agreeable as he is picturesque; he and I seem to fall en rapport at once,
as against the untrustworthiness of the remainder of our company. As his
keen, honest eyes scrutinize the countenances of the sowars, and then
seek my own face, I feel instinctively that he has sized my escort up
correctly, and that their innate rascality is as well revealed to him as
if he had accompanied us across the desert.

Several visitors drop in to pay their respects; they salaam respectfully
to me, and greet the sowars as "bur-raa-thers," and kiss, their hands.
One simple, unsophisticated mortal, who in his isolated life has never
had the opportunity of discriminating between a Mussulman and a Ferenghi,
addresses me also as "bur-raa-ther," and favors my palm with the
regulation osculatory greeting. The Afghans present view this
extraordinary proceeding with dignified silence, and if moved in any
manner by the spectacle, manage to conceal their emotions beneath a
stolid exterior. The risibilities of the sowars, however, are stirred to
their deepest depths, and they nearly choke themselves in desperate
efforts to keep from laughing outright.

Offerings of roses are brought into our quarters by the various visitors,
and boys and men toss others in through door and windows, until our room
is gratefully perfumed and roses are literally carpeting the floor. One
might well imagine the place to be Gulistan itself; every person is
carrying bunches of roses in his hands, smell