folded and thrown over them. A row of bridle bits and head harness richly ornamented with bronze and turquoise completed the decoration of the background. In the centre of the cupola-shaped ceiling there was a circular opening through which the star-strewn sky peeped in. On the wall hung big embroidered cloth pouches in which a couple of books, a mirror and other objects could be seen. The traditional dastarkhan was served immediately. Kind souls saw to it, thanks to gaps at the door-opening, that the tea-glasses were replenished as soon as they were emptied. Half-undressed, I crept under a warm silken quilt of' unusually large size and the next moment I slept as one does after a tiring day.
August Next morning I discovered that Hassan's mother, known as the Queen of Allai, was
13th. living in the other large yurt. Led by two elderly servants, she presently came across to my yurt, wearing a rich khalat of silk brocade, trimmed with fur, the gift of one of the governors-general of Turkestan. Puffing slightly, she sank to her knees and sat down on her calves, according to Kirghiz custom, on a fur spread out for her. Our very trite conversation consisted of an exchange of compliments, translated by her grandson and received with a slight inclination of the whole upper part of her body. After taking a couple of photographs inside the yurt I requested the wrinkled old lady of 96 to allow me to perpetuate her sitting on horseback. A brown horse, handsomely saddled, was led up and with a little help from her grandson and a servant she mounted with the confidence only possessed by one who has spent her life in the saddle.
Soon after I took my departure in the company of her grandson. Locked between hills and mountains, the road leads downhill almost all the way to Gulcha, 7 miles to the east, along chasms and narrow valleys. A couple of Kirghiz tombs built of bricks in the shape common to all and decorated with horses' tails on long poles, could be seen
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