It is now within three hours of sunset. The élite of society betake themselves to the Khanka (convent), to enjoy a treat, semi-religious and semi-literary. It consists in the public reading of the Mesnevi, which is declaimed at that time of the day by an experienced reader in the vestibule of the Khanka. This masterpiece of Oriental poesy presents in its contemplations of terrestrial existence much elevation of thought. Versification, language, metaphors, are, in reality, full of charm and beauty; but the audience in Bokhara are incapable of understanding it, and their enthusiasm is all affectation. I often had seated at my side on these occasions a man who, in his excitement, would emit deep-drawn sighs, and even bellow like a bull. I was quite amazed; and when I afterwards made enquiry as to his character, I heard that he was one of the meanest of misers, the proprietor of many houses, yet ready to make obeisance for even the smallest copper coin. No one is at all inclined to adopt the sentiment he hears there as the rule of his life, and still it is regarded as becoming to be deeply impressed by the beauty of the expression. Every one knows that the sighs and exclamation of his neighbour proceed from no genuine emotion, and still all vie in these demonstrations of extraordinary feeling. Even before the last beams of the setting sun have lost themselves in the wide waste of sand on the west, the Tartar capital begins to repose. As the coolness commences, the stifling clouds of dust subside. Where canals or water-reservoirs are near at hand, they are rendered available--the ground is watered and then swept. The men seat themselves in the shade to wait for the Ezan (evening prayer); that heard, an absolute stillness ensues, and soon all are seated before the colossal dish of pilau, and after they have well loaded their stomachs with this heavy and greasy meal, any desire they may have felt to leave the house is quite extinguished. Two hours after sunset all the thoroughfares are as silent as death. No echo is heard in the darkness of the night but the heavy tread of the night-watchman making his rounds. These men are charged to put in force the strictest police regulations against thieves and seekers of love adventures; they scruple not to arrest any man, however honourable his position, if his foot crosses his threshold after the beat of the tattoo has issued its order that all the world should sleep.