Tombstone epitaph., 1915-05-23
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 repeated to gentle lullaby airs. This time the prostrate man receives the bricks one by one as they are aimed square on the bricks lying on his tenn ple-and, of course, Is none the worse., though he takes the risk of a bad shot.
 The old conjurer came out again and danced to the Russian Kamarinsky air, holding a bamboo as if 1t were his partner, and doing all manner of clever and amusing turns. The young man who juggled the tea tray on the chopstick reappeared and did a diffi- cult balancing trick, raising himself on a trestle which rested on little spheres on a table. Then came two most original items, the dancing Of an old man in a five-yard linen whip and the rolling round the body of a rusty eight-foot scepter
 The man who danced made the whip crack and roll out over the arena in splendid circles and waves, and he was ever in the midst of it. The juggler of the scepter contrived to roll the strange looking implement all over his body, about his back and his shoulders and his stomach. and never let it touch the ground and nev- CT touched it with his hand-and at the same time to dance 10 the music. This was most attractive feat, and was as pleasant to watch as anything had ever seen in a large city.
 There was an interval and a great buzz of talking and surmise. After the interval came wrestling matches and trick riding on bicycles-nothing original. A clever little Mongol had no difficulty in disposing of those who offered to wrestle with him, and Russian cyclist who rode on his han dlebars received great applause from the people of Kopal. most of whom had not seen a bicycle before.
 So the entertainment ended. and ev- eryone was well pleased. The jug gling was a great mystiication to the simple Russians, and I heard many amusing comments from those behind me and beside. The conjuring forth of the steaming samovar was especial ly troubling to the minds of the peas- ant women, and I heard one say to another:
 God knows where he got 1t from" And the other replied:
 What has God got to do with it:-- it's the power O Satan"
 l returned to the posthouse in a pleasant frame of mind, took out my sheets and blanket and slept in a wagon in the yard. I said Kopal had no barber, but next day I found a Sart, who shaved. Picture me sitting on a rag of carpet on the floor of a mud hut. a red handkerchief tied tight ly round my neck. A bald-headed old Mahommedan holds in his hand a broken mug containing vinegar. He dips his thumb in it and then mas sages my cheeks and chin and neck. It was queer to feel his broad thumb pounding against my skin and chin bone. My hair is fairly torn of with an unhandy razor; no water is given me with which to rinse. but as the stopping Sart finishes his job. he puts into my hand three inches of broken mirror so that I can survey my new countenance and judge whether he has done well.
 The Chinese at the posthouse be- haved like Christians, or, rather, as Christians should. with great humble ness and altruism, giving up the sa- movar to Russian visitors, fetching wa ter to fill the washing bowls, cleaning and drying the dishes after their breakfast. and sweeping the post room floor before they went away. The postmaster's wife said there was a constant flow of Chinese, and they al- ways behaved in that way.
 Kopal, 1000 feet above the sea level, is in the midst of fine scenery, and the frontier all the way to Chugachak and the shoulder of the Altai moun- .ains is wild and desolate. The boun- dary is marked by numbered poles, but there are few soldiers or excise men to question you if you cross eith- CT way. There is a certain amount of smuggling done, one of the chief arti- cles brought through being Havana cigars. of which the local bureaucracy is very fond.