When the sheep had been devoured, partly by the company in the tent and partly by a nondescript company outside—­for the whole aoul took part in the festivities—­kumyss was served in unlimited quantities.  This beverage, as I have already explained, is mare’s milk fermented; but what here passed under the name was very different from the kumyss I had tasted in the establissements of Samara.  There it was a pleasant effervescing drink, with only the slightest tinge of acidity; here it was a “still” liquid, strongly resembling very thin and very sour butter-milk.  My Russian friend made a wry face on first tasting it, and I felt inclined at first to do likewise, but noticing that his grimaces made an unfavourable impression on the audience, I restrained my facial muscles, and looked as if I liked it.  Very soon I really came to like it, and learned to “drink fair” with those who had been accustomed to it from their childhood.  By this feat I rose considerably in the estimation of the natives; for if one does not drink kumyss one cannot be sociable in the Bashkir sense of the term, and by acquiring the habit one adopts an essential principle of Bashkir nationality.  I should certainly have preferred having a cup of it to myself, but I thought it well to conform to the habits of the country, and to accept the big wooden bowl when it was passed round.  In return my friends made an important concession in my favour:  they allowed me to smoke as I pleased, though they considered that, as the Prophet had refrained from tobacco, ordinary mortals should do the same.

Whilst the “loving-cup” was going round I distributed some small presents which I had brought for the purpose, and then proceeded to explain the object of my visit.  In the distant country from which I came—­far away to the westward—­I had heard of the Bashkirs as a people possessing many strange customs, but very kind and hospitable to strangers.  Of their kindness and hospitality I had already learned something by experience, and I hoped they would allow me to learn something of their mode of life, their customs, their songs, their history, and their religion, in all of which I assured them my distant countrymen took a lively interest.

This little after-dinner speech was perhaps not quite in accordance with Bashkir etiquette, but it made a favourable impression.  There was a decided murmur of approbation, and those who understood Russian translated my words to their less accomplished brethren.  A short consultation ensued, and then there was a general shout of “Abdullah!  Abdullah!” which was taken up and repeated by those standing outside.