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tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">LEAVING KHOI. [p. 86] YARD OF CARAVANSARY AT TABREEZ. [p. 88] LUMBER-YARD AT TABREEZ. [p. 88] THE CONVEYANCE OF A PERSIAN OFFICIAL TRAVELING IN DISGRACE TO TEHERAN AT THE CALL OF THE SHAH. [p. 91] A PERSIAN REPAIRING THE WHEELS OF HIS WAGON. [p. 94] LEAVING TEHERAN FOR MESHED. [p. 96] IN A PERSIAN GRAVEYARD. [p. 98] PILGRIMS IN THE CARAVANSARY. [p. 99] A PERSIAN WINE-PRESS. [p. 100] CASTLE STRONGHOLD AT LASGIRD. [p. 102] PILGRIM STONE HEAPS OVERLOOKING MESHED. [p. 104] RIDING BEFORE THE GOVERNOR AT MESHED. [p. 105] FEMALE PILGRIMS ON THE ROAD TO MESHED. [p. 106] IN THE GARDEN OF THE RUSSIAN CONSULATE AT MESHED. [p. 107] WATCH-TOWER ON THE TRANSCASPIAN RAILWAY. [p. 108] GIVING A 'SILENT PILGRIM' A ROLL TOWARD MESHED. [p. 109] AN INTERVIEW WITH GENERAL KUROPATKINE AT THE RACES NEAR ASKABAD. [p. 111] MOSQUE CONTAINING THE TOMB OF TAMERLANE AT SAMARKAND. [p. 112] CARAVANSARY AT FAKIDAOUD. [p. 113] A MARKET-PLACE IN SAMARKAND, AND THE RUINS OF A COLLEGE. [p. 114] A RELIGIOUS DRAMA IN SAMARKAND. [p. 116] OUR FERRY OVER THE ZERAFSHAN. [p. 118] PALACE OF THE CZAR’S NEPHEW, TASHKEND. [p. 121] A SART RESCUING HIS CHILDREN FROM THE CAMERA OF THE 'FOREIGN DEVILS.' [p. 123] VIEW OF CHIMKEND FROM THE CITADEL. [p. 125] ON THE ROAD BETWEEN CHIMKEND AND VERNOYE. [p. 129] UPPER VALLEY OF THE CHU RIVER. [p. 132] KIRGHIZ ERECTING KIBITKAS BY THE CHU RIVER. [p. 134] FANTASTIC RIDING AT THE SUMMER ENCAMPMENT OF THE COSSACKS. [p. 138] STROLLING MUSICIANS. [p. 141] THE CUSTOM-HOUSE AT KULDJA. [p. 143] THE CHINESE MILITARY COMMANDER OF KULDJA. [p. 145] TWO CATHOLIC MISSIONARIES IN THE YARD OF OUR KULDJA INN. [p. 146] A MORNING PROMENADE ON THE WALLS OF KULDJA. [p. 148] THE FORMER MILITARY COMMANDER OF KULDJA AND HIS FAMILY. [p. 151] VIEW OF A STREET IN KULDJA FROM THE WESTERN GATE. [p. 153] OUR RUSSIAN FRIEND AND MR. SACHTLEBEN LOADED WITH ENOUGH CHINESE 'CASH' TO PAY FOR A MEAL AT A KULDJA RESTAURANT. [p. 155] A STREET IN THE TARANTCHI QUARTER OF KULDJA. [p. 158] PRACTISING OUR CHINESE ON A KULDJA CULPRIT. [p. 160] THE HEAD OF A BRIGAND EXPOSED ON THE HIGHWAY. [p. 161] A CHINESE GRAVEYARD ON THE EASTERN OUTSKIRTS OF KULDJA. [p. 163] SPLITTING POPPY-HEADS TO START THE OPIUM JUICE. [p. 165] THE CHIEF OF THE CUSTOM-HOUSE GIVES A LESSON IN OPIUM SMOKING. [p. 167] RIDING BEFORE THE GOVERNOR OF MANAS. [p. 168] MONUMENT TO A PRIEST AT URUMTSI. [p. 170] A BANK IN URUMTSI. [p. 171] A MAID OF WESTERN CHINA. [p. 173] STYLISH CART OF A CHINESE MANDARIN. [p. 174] A CHINESE PEDDLER FROM BARKUL. [p. 176] CHINESE GRAVES ON THE ROAD TO HAMI. [p. 178] SCENE IN A TOWN OF WESTERN CHINA. [p. 179] A LESSON IN CHINESE. [p. 180] A TRAIL IN THE GOBI DESERT. [p. 182] IN THE GOBI DESERT. [p. 183] STATION OF SEB-BOO-TCHAN. [p. 185] A ROCKY PASS IN THE MOUNTAINS OF THE GOBI. [p. 187] A WASTE OF BLACK SAND IN THE GOBI. [p. 188] A ROAD MARK IN THE GOBI DESERT. [p. 189] WITHIN THE WESTERN GATE OF THE GREAT WALL. [p. 191] RIDING BY THE GREAT WALL ON THE ROAD TO SU-CHOU. [p. 193] A TYPICAL RECEPTION IN A CHINESE TOWN. [p. 196] A CHINAMAN’S WHEELBARROW. [p. 199] MONUMENT TO THE BUILDER OF A BRIDGE. [p. 201] TWO PAGODAS AT LAN-CHOU-FOO. [p. 203] MISSIONARIES AT LAN-CHOU-FOO. [p. 205] LI-HUNG-CHANG. [p. 206] OPIUM-SMOKERS IN A STREET OF TAI-YUEN-FOO. [p. 209] MISSIONARIES AT TAI-YUEN-FOO. [p. 210] ENTERING TONG-QUAN BY THE WEST GATE. [p. 211] MONUMENTS NEAR ONE-SHE-CHIEN. [p. 212] MONUMENT NEAR CHANG-SHIN-DIEN. [p. 215] ON THE PEI-HO. [p. 217] A CHINAMAN SCULLING ON THE PEI-HO. [p. 218] SALT HEAPS AT THE GOVERNMENT WORKS AT TONG-KU. [p. 220] WINDMILLS AT TONG-KU FOR RAISING SALT WATER. [p. 221] FURNACE FOR BURNING WASTE PAPER BEARING WRITTEN CHARACTERS. [p. 225] MR. LIANG, EDUCATED IN THE UNITED STATES, NOW IN THE SHIPPING BUSINESS. [p. 228] A CHINESE SEEDING-DRILL. [p. 230] A CHINESE BRIDE. [p. 233]

ACROSS ASIA ON A BICYCLE

[pg 1] ACROSS ASIA ON A BICYCLE THE JOURNEY OF TWO AMERICAN STUDENTS
FROM CONSTANTINOPLE TO PEKING
I BEYOND THE BOSPORUS

On a morning early in April the little steamer conveying us across from Stamboul touched the wharf at Haider Pasha. Amid the rabble of Greeks, Armenians, Turks, and Italians we trundled our bicycles across the gang-plank, which for us was the threshold of Asia, the beginning of an inland journey of seven thousand miles from the Bosporus to the Pacific. Through the morning fog which enveloped the shipping in the Golden Horn, the “stars and stripes” at a single masthead were waving farewell to two American students fresh from college who had nerved themselves for nearly two years of separation from the comforts of western civilization.

Our guide to the road to Ismid was the little twelve-year-old son of an Armenian doctor, whose guests we had [pg 2]been during our sojourn in Stamboul. He trotted for some distance by our side, and then, pressing our hands in both of his, he said with childlike sincerity: “I hope God will take care of you”; for he was possessed with the thought popular among Armenians, of pillages and massacres by marauding brigands.

The idea of a trip around the world had been conceived by us as a practical finish to a theoretical education; and the bicycle feature was adopted merely as a means to that end. On reaching London we had formed the plan of penetrating the heart of the Asiatic continent, instead of skirting its more civilized coast-line. For a passport and other credentials necessary in journeying through Russia and Central Asia we had been advised to make application to the Czar’s representative on our arrival at Teheran, as we would enter the Russian dominions from Persia; and to that end the Russian minister in London had provided us with a letter of introduction. In London the secretary of the Chinese legation, a Scotchman, had assisted us in mapping out a possible route across the Celestial empire, although he endeavored, from the very start, to dissuade us from our purpose. Application had then been made to the Chinese minister himself for the necessary passport. The reply we received, though courteous, smacked strongly of reproof. “Western China,” he said, “is overrun with lawless bands, and the people themselves are very much averse to foreigners. Your extraordinary mode of locomotion would subject you to annoyance, if not to positive danger, at the hands of a people who are naturally curious and superstitious. However,” he added, after some reflection, “if your minister makes a request for a passport we will see what can be done. The most I can do will be to ask for you the protection and assistance of the officials only; for the [pg 3]people themselves I cannot answer. If you go into that country you do so at your own risk.” Minister Lincoln was sitting in his private office when we called the next morning at the American legation. He listened to the recital of our plans, got down the huge atlas from his bookcase, and went over with us the route we proposed to follow. He did not regard the undertaking as feasible, and apprehended that, if he should give his official assistance, he would, in a measure, be responsible for the result if it should prove unhappy. When assured of the consent of our parents, and of our determination to make the attempt at all hazards, he picked up his pen and began a letter to the Chinese minister, remarking as he finished reading it to us, “I would much rather not have written it.” The documents received from the Chinese minister in response to Mr. Lincoln’s letter proved to be indispensable when, a year and a half later, we left the last outpost of western civilization and plunged into the Gobi desert. When we had paid a final visit to the Persian minister in London, who had asked to see our bicycles and their baggage equipments, he signified his intention of writing in our behalf to friends in Teheran; and to that capital, after cycling through Europe, we were now actually en route.

Since the opening of the Trans-Bosporus Railway, the wagon-road to Ismid, and even the Angora military highway beyond, have fallen rapidly into disrepair. In April they were almost impassable for the wheel, so that for the greater part of the way we were obliged to take to the track. Like the railway skirting the Italian Riviera, and the Patras-Athens line along the Saronic Gulf, this Trans-Bosporus road for a great distance scarps and tunnels the cliffs along the Gulf of Ismid, and sometimes runs so close to the water’s edge that the puffing of the kara vapor or [pg 4]“land steamer,” as the Turks call it, is drowned by the roaring breakers. The country between Scutari and Ismid surpasses in agricultural advantages any part of Asiatic Turkey through which we passed. Its fertile soil, and the luxuriant vegetation it supports, are, as we afterward learned, in striking contrast with the sterile plateaus and mountains of the interior, many parts of which are as desolate as the deserts of Arabia. In area, Asia Minor equals France, but the water-supply of its rivers is only one third.

BICYCLE ROUTE OF Messrs. Allen & Sachtleben ACROSS ASIA.

BICYCLE ROUTE OF Messrs. Allen & Sachtleben ACROSS ASIA.

One of the principal agents in the work of transforming Asia Minor is the railroad, to which the natives have taken with unusual readiness. The locomotive is already competing with the hundred and sixty thousand camels employed in the peninsula caravan-trade. At Geiveh, the last station on the Trans-Bosporus Railway, where we left the track to follow the Angora highway, the “ships of the desert” are beginning to transfer their cargoes to the [pg 5]“land steamer,” instead of continuing on as in former days to the Bosporus.

THE DONKEY BOYS INSPECT THE 'DEVIL'S CARRIAGE.'
THE DONKEY BOYS INSPECT THE “DEVIL’S CARRIAGE.”

The Trans-Bosporus line, in the year of our visit, was being built and operated by a German company, under the direct patronage of the Sultan. We ventured

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