We were shown into a nice large bedroom, and then began the pantomime. We were extremely hungry, but disinclined to try the fancy dishes which we feared would be served to us if we failed to be explicit in our orders. We had not yet learnt the names of many things in Russian, and we totally disagreed with the one universal sentiment, expressed in the word “nitchevo = it doesn’t matter,” which met us at every turn, so I betook myself to my pencil and drew—or tried to draw—a chicken _au plat_. Not having sufficiently studied the works of art which adorn cookery books, I failed ignominiously to convey any meaning to mine host. I next attempted to draw the creature _au naturel_, and the attempt was crowned with success; but alas, mine host soon returned with graphic gestures to acquaint us that chicken was not to be had. I then drew chicken in embryo, which was instantly recognised with an emphatic nod which heralded success. The next matter to be dealt with was bed and bedding, but that was more easily accomplished, and we found the people thoroughly pleasant and obliging, anxious to get all we wanted and make us comfortable; they brought an extra bedstead, sheets, and pillows, all thoroughly clean. In fact our quarters were so comfortable that we rather regretted that we were only going to spend twenty-four hours there. Next morning we were awakened by the familiar sound of growling camels and screeching peacocks in a neighbouring garden. We were soon abroad and found the pleasant impression gained by our drive of the night before fully justified, for every road is bordered with trees, and the poplars are the most beautiful and lofty I have ever seen; their silver stems stretch up erect as darts into the clear blue sky. There are shady public gardens where the ash tree and the acacia were in full blossom, filling the air with their fragrance; on the roofs of the smaller houses poppies and grass made a brave show of colour against the sky. All the houses were well shaded by trees except in the centre of the town, where fashionable shops displayed the latest novelties in hats and other things dear to the fashionable world of Tashkent. We made our way to the post-office, where most of the officials were women, and found quite a large budget of letters. Evidently there is no regular delivery, as they were all addressed to the hotel, and some of them had been lying there at least a week. Later in the day we returned to inquire for a book, which from my letters I learnt had been forwarded there, and after some searching it was duly produced, but I afterwards found that difficulty had attended its despatch as well as its delivery; the London post-office at first declined to send it on the score of not knowing where Turkestan was.