Leaving the market we passed through a little valley on the eastern side, and to our surprise a picturesque native suddenly stepped into the carriage and sat down opposite to us. Our self-constituted guide was seated on the box, so he turned round to explain that it was quite right, for we should require the man’s services directly. In point of fact we stopped in less than two minutes in front of a gateway, the entrance to which was blocked by a pole placed across it. We passed through a side gate on foot into a shady park, where numbers of people were seated in parties under the trees, and sweetmeat sellers were plying a brisk trade. There are many different trees at Samarkand, but the chief of them are the white poplars and the black Turkestan elms; the latter are the national sacred tree—the karagatch. The people are great gardeners, and the water-supply is excellent; indeed it is being drawn increasingly from the river which supplies Bokhara, to the detriment of that city. As we strolled along the shady paths veiled women eyed us furtively. A few minutes’ walk brought us to a short flight of steps leading down to a fine blue-tiled gateway. As we entered it a vista of great beauty, a masterpiece of art, was revealed, which had previously been completely hidden from view. Forty gleaming marble steps lead upward to a fine gateway, surmounted by domes. A flowering shrub hung over the wall on the right, and a cluster of scarlet poppies had forced their way between the slabs of marble. In the porch sat a typical group of natives, and our guide presented us with some ceremony to the Mullah, who was apparently in charge of the buildings—the Hazréti Shah Zindeh, or summer palace of Tamerlane. The palace is called after a saint, Shah Zindeh, whose tomb is one of the buildings; in fact it would never occur to any one that this was a palace, but rather a collection of shrines and tombs. The saint is expected to rise again some day. On reaching the top of the steps we came into a little flagged lane, with the most brilliant archway standing up against the sky (the one in the sketch), such a blaze of scintillating colour that the blue heaven looked dull and opaque in comparison. Here the tiles are finer than any of the others; they are modelled in relief and in open work, unlike any that we saw elsewhere. The designs were of an infinite variety, and it seemed a grievous pity that the little hall within was dirty and befouled by birds nesting there; all the walls within, as well as without, were covered with various kinds of tiles. Opposite this was another hall, quite different in its decoration. A little further down the winding lane were another pair of halls, also surmounted by domes, and with yet other designs on the walls; there are altogether seven of them, the remaining three being grouped together at the extreme end of the lane, and forming the termination of it. The innermost shrine is a little mosque, consisting of two rooms, a sort of