decided the miracle should cease, and ordered a building to be placed over it, an inconspicuous erection with five little cupolas along the top and surmounted by the usual standard, tuft of hair and rams’ horns; this last is the usual offering made by Sarts at a saint’s shrine, and which we saw again on the tombs outside Bokhara. Strolling down the steep hill-side into a grove of trees below, we came to a busy scene. The trees rise out of a large terrace, where handsome carpets were spread on the ground, on which were seated parties of devotees engaged in conversation or in prayer, while their horses were tethered hard by in the shade. Close at hand servants were busily preparing food at various fires under a shed, and it looked as if it were some picnic instead of a religious exercise. Evidently the worshippers were going to make a day of it, and they looked highly picturesque with their many-coloured robes and white turbans. The valley was a charming one, full of lofty poplars and elms. A mill was built over the river lower down, and there were many houses nestling among the trees. The yellow soil, called _toprach_, is extremely fertile when sufficiently watered, and the Sarts have a saying, “Plant a stick in the toprach, give it a trickle of water, and next year you will have a tree.” There are other excursions worth making in the neighbourhood, and we greatly regretted that lack of time prevented our doing them. One in particular we thought would have been attractive, namely, a ride to the snow-covered mountains, whence there is a fine view over the plain to the city. There are ruins called Aphrosiab all round the city, and interesting coins of the Græco-Bactrian period have been found there. Till within the last few years the madressah of Timur Malik, ten kilometres distant, was still standing, but it has been laid in ruins by an earthquake. There are other mosques in the city worth visiting, especially that of Zemreh Khodja, the mausoleum of Khodja ben Khaddra, and the madressahs of Ishrak Khaneh and Khodja Akhrar. CHAPTER XX Bokhara The journey from Samarkand to Bokhara only takes about six and a half hours by rail, across a dull monotonous plain as far as Kazan (pronounced Kaghan), thence on a little branch line through green fields for the last half-hour. We stopped at the Russian settlement of Kazan, an absolutely uninteresting place. We were informed that the Hotel d’Europe was comfortable, and we drove to it from the station, only to find every room engaged. The German proprietress told us they were always busy, but recommended us to the only other hotel, the _Commercial_. Here we found a thoroughly clean room, and the pleasantest of Russian hostesses. As usual, we were expected to have brought our bed clothes, but not having done so the hostess fetched some out of her private store, and she was quite gratified by our admiration of her handiwork on the sheets: “Made when I was unmarried,” she said, with a weary smile.