At the treaty of Serpul, the Emir was granted the free possession of the country which was left to him, beginning beyond Kermineh, as far as Tchardjui in the south; and not only was he promised vigorous support in all his possessions beyond the Oxus, but Russian friendship even went so far as to suppress for him a rebellion which had broken out at Shehri Sebz, and amity seemed to spring up between these two formerly implacable enemies. Of course the Emir had to pledge himself to be a true and faithful ally of Russia. He had to pay the heavy war indemnity, including all the robberies and embezzlements of Russian officers; he had to place his sons under the tutorship of the Czar in order to be brought up at St. Petersburg, in the very centre of the blackest infidelity; and ultimately he had to cede three points on his southern frontier-namely, Djam, Kerki, and Tchardjui, in order to secure a starting point for Russia towards the south in case of necessity. All these were certainly most oppressive burdens; but what on earth would not the Emir have given to save the shadow of his sovereignty? Of course Russia was very wise to leave him in the delusive dream of his independence; for besides the heavy costs involved by immediate annexation, the administration of the country by Russian officials would have proved a useless expense to the exchequer. This abstemious policy had borne

its fruits for Russia not only gained the consideration of the foe vanquished by her, but was also looked upon by the adjacent khanates in a far better light than had been hitherto the case, since, according to Tartar notions, conquest was identical with murder, plunder and extirpation. Central Asia was really surprised to find mercy at the hands of the Christian victor.

Scarcely five years had elapsed when Russia, anxious to avoid "endless extension," cast her eyes beyond the Oxus upon the Khan of Khiva, applying almost literally the meaning of the fable of Esopus in accusing the Khiva lamb on the lower course of the Oxus of troubling her waters in the upper course. A plea for a casus belli was soon unearthed. The young Khan of Khiva, the son of the very man upon whom I pronounced a blessing whilst sojourning in his capital, had vainly endeavoured to apologise and to give every possible redress. The Russian preparations of war had been ready for a long time, provisions were previously secured on different points, and General Kauffmann, notoriously fond of theatrical pageantries, marched through the most perilous route across bottomless sands from the banks of the Yaxartes to the Oxus. Strange to say, he chose the very route upon which I trudged years ago, tormented and nearly killed by thirst. At the station, Adam

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Kirligan (the place were men perish) he must have remembered the dervish, for I am told on good authority that he travelled with my book in his hands; and the ominous name of the station would have proved really disastrous to the Russian army if the Uzbegs had had the slightest military foresight, or had been aware of the very rudimentary principles of warfare. The Russians, who marched from three different points upon the khanate, had a very easy task before them. Without fighting a single battle, the whole country on the Lower Oxus was conquered. Russia again showed herself magnanimous by replacing the young Khan upon the paternal throne, after having taken away from him the whole country on the right bank of the Oxus, and imposed upon his neck the burden of a war indemnity which will weigh him down as long as he lives, and cripple even his successors, if any such are to come after him.

Three more years passed, when Russia, anxious to avoid "endless extension," again began to extend the limits of her possessions in the Yaxartes Valley towards the East. In July, 1876, one of the famous Russian embassies of amity was casually (?) present at the Court of Khudayar Khan at Khokand, when suddenly a rebellion broke out, endangering not only the lives of the Russian embassy but also of the allied ruler. No wonder, therefore, that Russia had

to take care of the friend in distress. An army was despatched to Khokand, the rebellion was quelled, and, as a natural consequence, the whole khanate incorporated into the dominions of the Czar. The Khokandians, especially one portion of them called the Kiptchaks, did not surrender so easily as their brethren in Bokhara and Khiva. The struggle between the conqueror and the native people was a bloody and protracted one; and the butchery at Namangan, an engagement in which the afterwards famous General Skobeleff won his spurs, surpasses all the accounts hitherto given of Russian cruelty. Similar scenes occurred in Endidjan and other places, until the power of the Kiptchaks, noted for their bravery all over Central Asia, was broken, and "peace," a pendant to the famous tableau of Vereshtchagin, "peace at Shipka," prevailed throughout the valleys of Ferghana, enabling the Russian eagle to spread his wings undisturbedly over the whole of Central Asia, beginning from the Caspian Sea in the west to the Issyk Kul in the east, and from Siberia to the Turkoman sands in the south. The conquest of Central Asia was thus literally accomplished, and we shall only dwell on the main reason which has facilitated the success, and enabled Russia to penetrate into the very nest of the hitherto inaccessible Mohammedan fanaticism.

By us in Europe the new feats of Russian arms were certainly looked upon with great surprise. Nations vain-glorious of military deeds partly envied and partly admired the modern successor of Djenghis and Timur, but it is only ignorance of facts and gross exaggeration which has led them astray. They had been accustomed from immemorial times to couple the names of Tartar, Kalmuk, Kirghis, etc., with all rudeness, strength, power, and all possibly imaginable qualities of savage warriors. I had the same opinion on the subject; but how different was my experience gathered on the spot, when I discovered in the roughest-looking Tartar a coward without example, and found that despite my lame leg I could, armed with a stick, put to flight five or six men. Of such a character was the predominant majority of the enemies Russia had to fight. The whistle of a single ball was enough to scare away dozens of warlikelooking Sarts, Tadjiks, and Uzbegs. In reality how could it be otherwise, considering the difference existing between the arms of the Russian conqueror and those of the native defenders? Take the gun, for instance. The Russian is armed with a good modern rifle, and his gunpowder is of the best, whilst the poor Tartar has nothing but an old and rusty gun which rests on a kind of wooden fork. Before attempting to shoot, he is looking out for a level spot