swallowed up a part or perhaps the whole karavan. Such, at all events, was the expressed opinion of the Turkomans. It was ten o'clock on the morning of the 20th of May when we reached the Little Balkan. It stretched from the south-west to the north-east. We discovered also the feebly-defined promontory belonging to the Great Balkan, running parallel with the former range. The Little Balkan, at the foot of which we encamped, forms an almost uninterrupted chain of mountains of equal elevation, for a distance of about twelve miles. It is not perhaps so barren and naked as those in Persia, it yields grass in some places, and in the rest has a bluish-green colour. Its height, measured by the eye, seems about 3,000 feet. Our route this day and the next morning (May 21) continued to pass along its side; about evening we reached the foot of the promontory of the Great Balkan. Although I could only see a part of this close, I yet perceived the propriety of the appellation that distinguished it; for on an average, as far as the eye can reach, it has greater circumference and greater height. We found ourselves on a branch stretching {105} in an easterly direction. The Great Balkan, properly so called, runs towards the shore of the Caspian, having nearly a north-easterly direction. According to what I heard in Khiva and amongst the Turkomans, it must be rich in precious minerals; but the fact cannot be relied upon without the opinion of competent judges. Taken altogether, the spot where we encamped this evening was not without its charms; for, as the setting sun projected its rays upon the lovely valleys of the Little Balkan, one could almost fancy oneself actually in a mountainous district. The view might even be characterised as beautiful; but then the idea of a fearful desolation, the immense abandonment, which covers the whole, as it were, with a veil of mourning! We turn fearfully to see whether the next moment our eye may not encounter some strange human face that will oblige us to grasp our weapon, for every human being encountered in the desert must be met with ready arms. An hour after sunset the start was determined upon. The Kervanbashi pointed out to us that from this point the true desert began; that, although we had all the appearance of being experienced travellers, still he considered it not unprofitable to remark that, as far as possible, we should avoid speaking loudly, or uttering any cry by day or night; and that henceforth we should each bake his bread before sunset, as no one here ought to light a fire by night for fear of betraying his position to an enemy; and finally that we should, in our prayers, constantly implore Amandjilik for security, and in the hour of danger we should not behave like women. {106}