The dinner at an end, large pipes are brought in. Each consists of a gourd, about a foot high, filled with water; on the top, communicating with the water through a tube, rests a bowl, containing the fire and tobacco. Near the top, on either side, and just above the water, is a hole; but there is no stem. The mode of using it is this: you take up the whole vessel in your hand, and then blow through one of the holes to expel the smoke. Next, stopping up one hole with your finger, you put your mouth to the other, and inhale the smoke into your lungs. You will probably be satisfied with three or four whiffs on this gigantic scale. Mr. MacGahan had an opportunity of seeing the interior of an Uzbeg house, and he thus describes it:— “There is little attempt at luxury or taste in the house of even the richest; and in this respect the poorest seems almost on an equality with the most opulent. A few carpets on the floor; a few rugs and cushions round the wall, with shelves for earthenware and China porcelain; three or four heavy, gloomy books, bound in leather or parchment; and some pots of jam and preserved fruit, generally make up the contents of the room. There are usually two or three apartments in the house different from the others, in having arrangements for obtaining plenty of light. In these rooms you find the upper half of one of the walls completely wanting, with the overhanging branches of an elm projecting through the opening. The effect is peculiar and striking, as well as pleasant. From the midst of this room—with mud walls and uneven floor, with the humblest household utensils, and perhaps a smoking fire—you get glimpses of the blue sky through the green leaves of the elm tree. A slightly projecting roof protects the room from rain; in cold weather, of course, it is abandoned. Two or three other rooms are devoted to the silkworms, the feeding and care of which form the special occupation of the women. The worms naturally receive a great deal of attention, for their cocoons pay a great part of the household expenses.” But let us suppose that an Uzbeg host closes up the entertainment he has provided for us with a dance. The dancers are two young boys—one about eight, the other about ten years of age—with bare feet, a little conical skull-cap on their shaven heads, and a long loose khalat drooping to their ankles. The orchestra is represented by a ragged-looking musician, who sings a monotonous tune to the accompaniment of a three-stringed guitar. The boys begin to dance; at first with slow and leisurely movements, swaying their bodies gracefully, and clapping their hands over their heads to keep time to the music. But as this grows livelier, the boys gradually become more excited; striking their hands wildly, uttering short occasional shouts, turning somersaults, wrestling with each other, and rolling upon the ground.