imal traffic of centuries, several feet
deep in the solid rock. On a broad cultivated plain beyond the pass is
sighted the village of Lasgird, its huge mud fortress, the most
conspicuous object in view, rising a hundred feet above the plain.

CHAPTER III.

PERSIA AND THE MESHED PILGRIM ROAD.

A mile or so through the cultivated fields brings me to the village just
in time to be greeted by the shouts and hand-clapping of a wedding
procession that is returning from conducting the bride to the bath. Men
and boys are beating rude, home-made tambourines, and women are dancing
along before the bride, clicking castanets, while a crowd of at least two
hundred villagers, arrayed in whatever finery they can muster for the
occasion, are following behind, clapping their hands in measured chorus.
This hand-clapping is, I believe, pretty generally practiced by the
villagers all over Central Asia on festive occasions. As a result of
riding for the crowd, I receive an invitation to take supper at the house
of the bridegroom's parents. Having obtained sleeping quarters at the
chapar-khana, I get the shagird-chapar to guide me to the house at the
appointed hour, and arrive just in time for supper. The dining-room is a
low-ceiled apartment, about thirty feet long and eight wide, and is dimly
lighted by rude grease lamps, set on pewter lamp-stands on the floor.

Squatting on the floor, with their backs to the wall, about fifty
villagers form a continuous human line around the room. These all rise
simultaneously to their feet as I am announced, bob their heads
simultaneously, simultaneously say, "Sahib salaam," and after I have been
provided with a place, simultaneously resume their seats. Pewter trays
are now brought in by volunteer waiters, and set on the floor before the
guests, one tray for every two guests, and a separate one for myself. On
each tray is a bowl of mast (milk soured with rennet--the "yaort" of Asia
Minor), a piece of cheese, one onion, a spoonful or two of pumpkin butter
and several flat wheaten cakes. This is the wedding supper. The guests
break the bread into the mast and scoop the mixture out with their
fingers, transferring it to their mouths with the dexterity of Chinese
manipulating a pair of chop-sticks; now and then they take a nibble at
the piece of cheese or the onion, and they finish up by consuming the
pumpkin butter. The groom doesn't appear among the guests; he is under
the special care of several