Little Falls transcript., 1879-07-24
In the Emir Of BOkhara's Land.


4ells how he was received by the Emir Of
Bokhara, Asia, in the capital Of the same
name. The writer says: I might write
till tomorrow were l to repeat half the
stories heard of the man in whose pres
ence 1 stood; bnt the reader has now
made his acquaintance. He is forty eight
years old, and looks sixty. His eyes daz-
zle yours with their brilliancy. He
strikes you as one with whom it would
scarcely do to joke withal. He offered
me his hand, made me sit, made my Rus
sian interpreter sit, too; but left the Ori-
entail Interpreter to stand. The latter
was my cook. There we're only three
seats in The place. Then the conversa-
tion began. The Emir asked about my
health and details Of the voyage. That
was all he condescendcd to say. I told
him | was Journeying to Cabul, and pray
ed him to grant INC all facilities. He
nodded and dismissed INC, bidding me
inspect his garden. AS 1 rose to go my
opera hat sprung up, like a jack in box.
The Emir was stupeticd. My interpreters
hat followed suit. Bigger and bigger
grew the Emir's eyes. However, we
backe'i out, not without stumbling. We
mounted our horses and started for the
garden, half a l1ilc from the palace. The
prime minister offered us the eternal
pilau, giving Us thc>cuc to cat it with our
fingers, and regarding us with fascinat
smile. Our dishes were as useful as ever
Then came the presents-a sorry old nag
and ten dressing gowns. Thence home
Everybody wanted to know what the
Emir had given me. I discovered that
the Emir himself sends certain honest
merchants to buy everything back as
chcap]y as possible. l was only too glad
to get rid Of my load. l had more than
twenty dressing gowns.
At night the Emir sent us his acro'>ats
Into their gambols l will initiate the
reader. The company consists Of three
musicians and two nondcscripts, who
dance and sing with beating of tambour.
ines. The hall is covered with carpets
and lighted by candles, with real Wen
nesc sofa in the corner, destined for me
The three musicians knecl-onc behind
the other and raise their talnbourines
above their heads hiding their faces
From their tEroats issue sounds which
resemble no conceivable kind of music
Rises a dancer. These dancers. by the
way, arc lads Of years varying from ten tc
sixteen. The center of their hclds is
shaven. On either side hangs love-lock
covering their neck. They make gest-
ure which they fancy is graceful; another
which consists i'll an examination of thci1
finger nails. They arc called Batchas
Russian authorities tried to suppress them,
but Eastern habits were too strong, when
the Batc'sn natures, when his childish
awkwardness, called gracefulness is gone,
when his attractions have faded, the
Botcha turns clown. The clown follows
the BatctD with absurd grimaces, which
are marks Of grotesque admiration, and
tries with a torch to set fire to his girdle
if he succeeds, the audience shouts its
applause; if he fails, the, clown quivers
from head to foot and is very much dis
comited. When the 6atcho rises to
dance he stands before the tambourlnists,
turning his back to them and facing the
principal parsonage of the audience.
This, hardly need say, is myself, for the
rest are crouching round the wall. The
60tcha raises his arm, forearm vertical,
hands in the air.. His hands he twists
continually, nov showing, now hiding
the palms: then lets his sleeves drop and
bares the arms. His feet are naked, and
be wears the wide trousers of Oriental
womanhood, drawn tight at the waist.
His neck swells with the vi gor Of his
shouting-I decline to call it singing
The tambourines continue their din, tn e
dancer whiris frantically On his toe, and
then suddenly the noise stops and all is
calm. This lasts for an hour and half.
The cries and the hubbub, added to the
fumes of a stove burning in the center,
make you simply lose your senses, and,
when the bdtch0 has dressed himself like
a woman and has ogled you, you rush
from this babel of flies and tambourines,
and would scarcely believe next day that
such scene were possible if violent
headache did not help to convince you.
My servants had it all over again in the
morning, and the Emir was told that I
had enjoyed myself prodigiously.
My next proceeding was to ramble
through the town on horseback. The
bazaar is virtually the whole city. The
rest is coil Of narrow and crooked streets,
with mud walls and little doors pierced
in them here and there. There are
of water, too, but water in Box
hara, and the streets are only sprinkled
once week. The activity of the bazaar
gives evidence of lively trade. Jewel