With the decline of summer comes the bracing time in Samarkand. During October and November autumn has established itself. At breakfast time the thermometer will show between 32° and 41° F. (0° to 5° C.), rising to about 60 (15° C.) at two o'clock. The evenings are chilly again, being frequently followed by several degrees of frost at night. The trees are yellow, streaks of mist creep through the gardens in the morning and the air is crisp. That is the season for travelling and walking in comfort, for seeing the sights as a tourist.

Then, in December, comes winter with an occasional shower of rain or sudden rise of temperature, but on the whole clear and cold. Through the leafless branches distant views with snow-topped hills are revealed and hidden houses everywhere become visible among the recesses of the gardens. Now the bugle sounds for the gay chase after pheasant, duck and boar, across the crackling stubble-fields and through the rustling reeds. For us autumn and winter are favourable for roaming in the plains; now is the season for lusty deeds in the lowlands.

On the 1st of December 1907 two ladies, Carruthers and myself left Samarkand intent upon a shooting trip to Makhan-kul. According to the official calendar of the Russian railways it must already have been mid-winter, for our second class carnage was almost bursting with heat. The iron stove in the corner had been goaded to red wrath and was doing his level best to reduce to a sweltering stew the crowd packed into this boiler on wheels. Herein it succeeded with remarkable atmospheric effects.