If I do not err, it is the Tchiharbag Abdullah Khan that still preserves most of the characters of a public place of entertainment. It is a spot well shaded by lofty trees; a canal flows through it, to whose banks the pupils of the numerous colleges and the young men belonging to the wealthier classes, resort generally on Friday afternoons. The inevitable tea-kettle is here again in requisition, and tea is the article for which the place is renowned; but not the only one, for the combats of rams are here celebrated also. The savageness with which these sturdy animals rush against each other when irritated, the fearful shock of their two heads, particularly when they struggle to push their antagonists back, present a spectacle very attractive to the inhabitant, not only of Bokhara, but of every part of Central Asia. What the bull-fight is in Spain, and horse-racing in England, these combats of rams are in Turkestan. The rams are trained to this sport, and it is really surprising how these brutes support with obstinacy often as many as one hundred charges. When they first make their appearance on the avenue, the bystanders begin to wager as to the number of shocks their chosen champion will support. Sometimes the weaker combatant beats a retreat; but very often the battle only ends with the entire discomfiture of one animal, consequent upon the cracking of his skull. It is a cruel spectacle; still the cruelty does not seem so great in the middle of Tartary as some of the sports in which so many civilised nations of the West still find amusement. * * * * *