This circumstance is only so far interesting that it enabled us to establish that the ruins of ancient Belkh, styled by the Orientals 'the mother of cities,' covered formerly a distance of five leagues. Now only a few heaps of earth are pointed to as the site of the ancient Bactra, and of the modern ruins there is nothing remarkable but a half-demolished mosque, built by the Sultan Sandjar of the race of the Seldjoukides; for in the middle ages Belkh was the capital of Islamite civilisation, and was styled Kubbet-ül Islam ('the dome of Islam'). It is singular that the bricks here are of the same size and quality as those in the ruins amongst the Yomuts; but I have been able to find amongst them no cuneiform inscriptions. Excavations would incontestably produce interesting results; but they would be impossible without recommendatory letters, backed by two or three thousand European bayonets. Modern Belkh, regarded as the capital of the Afghan province of Turkestan, and occupied by the Serdar with his garrison, is only a winter residence, for in spring even the poorest inhabitant leaves it for Mezar, whose situation is more elevated, its temperature less oppressive, and its air less impure, than those of the ruins of the ancient Bactra; for whilst the latter is famous for poisonous scorpions, the former has a high reputation as producing the wonder-working red roses (Gül-i-Surkh). These flowers grow upon the pretended tomb of Ali, [Footnote 73] and have positively the sweetest smell and the finest colour of any I ever saw. Superstition fondly credits the story that they will not succeed in any other soil than that of Mezar. Every attempt, at least, to transplant it in Mezar itself has failed. [Footnote 73: The real monument of Ali is in Nedjef.] {234} [Author joins Karavan from Bokhara; Slavery]