Traversing such a region is, I need scarcely say, very weary work—­all the more as there are no milestones or other landmarks to show the progress you are making.  Still, it is not so overwhelmingly wearisome as might be supposed.  In the morning you may watch the vast lakes, with their rugged promontories and well-wooded banks, which the mirage creates for your amusement.  Then during the course of the day there are always one or two trifling incidents which arouse you for a little from your somnolence.  Now you descry a couple of horsemen on the distant horizon, and watch them as they approach; and when they come alongside you may have a talk with them if you know the language or have an interpreter; or you may amuse yourself with a little pantomime, if articulate speech is impossible.  Now you encounter a long train of camels marching along with solemn, stately step, and speculate as to the contents of the big packages with which they are laden.  Now you encounter the carcass of a horse that has fallen by the wayside, and watch the dogs and the steppe eagles fighting over their prey; and if you are murderously inclined you may take a shot with your revolver at these great birds, for they are ignorantly brave, and will sometimes allow you to approach within twenty or thirty yards.  At last you perceive—­most pleasant sight of all—­a group of haystack-shaped tents in the distance; and you hurry on to enjoy the grateful shade, and quench your thirst with “deep, deep draughts” of refreshing kumyss.

During my journey through the Kirghiz country I was accompanied by a Russian gentleman, who had provided himself with a circular letter from the hereditary chieftain of the Horde, a personage who rejoiced in the imposing name of Genghis Khan,* and claimed to be a descendant of the great Mongol conqueror.  This document assured us a good reception in the aouls through which we passed.  Every Kirghis who saw it treated it with profound respect, and professed to put all his goods and chattels at our service.  But in spite of this powerful recommendation we met with none of the friendly cordiality and communicativeness which I had found among the Bashkirs.  A tent with an unlimited quantity of cushions was always set apart for our accommodation; the sheep were killed and boiled for our dinner, and the pails of kumyss were regularly brought for our refreshment; but all this was evidently done as a matter of duty and not as a spontaneous expression of hospitality.  When we determined once or twice to prolong our visit beyond the term originally announced, I could perceive that our host was not at all delighted by the change of our plans.  The only consolation we had was that those who entertained us made no scruples about accepting payment for the food and shelter supplied.

     * I have adopted the ordinary English spelling of this name. 
     The Kirghiz and the Russians pronounce it “Tchinghiz.”