Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from From Persian Uplands
As a matter of necessity, of course, the ordinary routine of travel calls for very little linguistic effort. One has but to put a childlike trust in porters, railway officials, and hotel servants, whose intelligence is equal to most occasions. If, how ever, a hitch occurs, then the trouble commences. A man who loses his luggage, or takes the wrong train, or falls into a like predicament and cannot explain himself out of it, will quickly become a mere source of amusement, or even a ridiculous object. A lady, travelling alone and in similar case, will of course have as much compassionate attention and generous service as she cares to requisition.
Luckily I had no hitches, so here I am, deposited at Askabad by the long leisurely train that is taking Russian mails, Russian officers and soldiers, Russian tradesmen, and a nondescript motley of yellow-skinned people with narrow glistening eyes and high cheek-bones, eastward to Bukhara and Samarkand, those towns of a wondrous past.
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