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0112 Tibet and Turkestan : vol.1
Tibet and Turkestan : vol.1 / Page 112 (Grayscale High Resolution Image)

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doi: 10.20676/00000231
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crawled over the occasional fearsome little bridge,
shied from a wayside beggar, disappeared into the
man-high, centuries-old ruts which are roads; and
finally along a well-shaded avenue, marked by the
dull mud garden walls, we get into the maze of
alleys, paths, streets, which for more than two
thousand years has been a well-known breeding-
place of men. From the main bazaar, where a
submissive but curious crowd can scarcely let us
pass, we turn into an alley, skirting an empty en-
closure whose stench quite staggers us. We thread
our way between lines of expectant horse-holders,
then enter the gate of a respectable court, flanked
by roomy quarters for our men, and closed by a re-
ception platform. This is under cover, and consti-
tutes the front part of the building in which are four
good rooms—the quarters for the sahibs; back of
those rooms, a garden of fruit trees and some flowers,
all growing in thick disorder. Personal cleanliness
one does see among high-class Asiatics, but *general*
neatness, order, decorum, in all surroundings—that
is European. We were very comfortable, however;
our bedding was soon put in its proper corner, and
a few rickety chairs were found for our use, this
house having already received Sven Hedin, Dr.
Stein, Captain Deasey, and perhaps other white
men before us. As the two Americans (Mr. Morse
and Mr. Abbot) who had preceded me in Turkestan
had not gone as far east as Khotan, that ancient
city now felt its first thrill from contact with the
Very New.
To fleece the sheep bearing wool-of-gold is a
hereditary right of all communities small enough to