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child. After that, the pearls are used as fringes and tassels for the amaut.
The pet garments of the girls, and of married women, too, are the breeches and the kamiks. They take much time to make these garments as fine as possible. The breeches, which are worn next the bare body, are made of costly sealskins or reindeer skins. They are not fastened to the body by anything, but their stiffness keeps them in place. The Greenlanders know nothing of buttons or hooks or buckles or braces,
least on the wo
men's garments. The kamiks consist of an inner stocking of
skin with the hair inside, and an outer boot made of dyed or painted skin in the most screeching colors. bright red, blue, violet. The most valued are the white halt-boots which are used on Sundays, holidays, and on certain occasions like marriages The sole of the Kamik is not hard and stift, but sott and pls able.
their bearers. The wives wear blue in all shades, the maidens red, the unmarried mothers green in all shades, and the widows wear black. All other colors are forbidden. In front they like to fasten on the ribbon some shining object, a brooch or an odd ear-ring. For lack of other things, they will pin on a piece of colored silver or gold paper. To get the top firm and stiff, the hair must be drawn very tight. In time the hair on each side of the head is torn out, and two large bald spots appear, which are not very becoming. They wear no head-cover ex
De soles of the inner and outer kamik is a laver of straw, that every day must be taken out and drod
The hair on the national bead-dress is Be dag or even warg et, and is put taken
cept the handkerchief in different stuffs, cotton, wool, or
are very coquettish. They may look decent and modest. especially when they know themselves noticed by European ladies. but they are not
When a woman becomes a widow, she is not, as with civilized people, an object of pity.
She must almost instantly give up the possession of the best pallet room. When she is about to die, they call together as 2321 as possible, sing coe him after another, and when finally the soud has let the body, then get the dead body as tast as possible into its grave, drak a seize a bowl et coffee, ransack the effects of * decused. cxice them me dose have come first, and me dance in The next is every ce has
From a photograph of the painting by R. D. Mackenzie. By permission of Raphael Tuck & Sons Co., L't'd.
A BAND OF BALUCHIS
WITH PICTURES BY THE WRITER
T was in 1897 that the Government of dants they are.
rising of the Afridis in the Khyber Pass and the tribes in the Tirrah Valley; but two years later the guarding of the pass was handed over to the Khyber Rifles, and the British troops were withdrawn.
At that time some doubted the wisdom of the policy of the Government, but nearly twelve years have now passed, and the Afridis still stand loyal to this trust and to the handful of British officers who command them, despite the unrest of the tribesmen in the neighboring valleys.
The Government of India undertakes to keep this pass open, and to protect the lives and property of those who travel through it, and it is an expensive and onerous undertaking.
As individuals, the proud, independent warriors of the northwest frontier of India are men to be admired for their rugged, untamed, vigorous manhood. The curb of civilization has not yet touched them; they are types of the heroic warriors of the early ages of history, whose descen
Their rude, unbridled
only an outlet to passions similar to those that the more civilized peoples are constantly exercising, if in a more organized, subtle, and complex form. The ultimate means employed is always the same-strife and destruction. The two races who are face to face on the borders of India have a common admiration for each other, and each sees in the other a reflection of his own spirit. But the Afghan, or the trans-frontier tribesman, has a very limited conception of the world and little. sense of proportion, and he has developed only primitive animal instincts, guarded. by boundless suspicion and superstition, which envelop him like a curtain of night, and beyond which he has no desire to see or to be seen.
The valleys that honeycomb the neighborhood of the Khyber Pass are filled with tribes independent of one another and all more or less independent of Afghanistan, their big neighbor on the north and west; and although the pass connects India di
tween Afghanistan and India, more than the gateway through which the commerce of central Asia and the early Western world has passed, tollowed by a procession of the world's conquerors and plunderers: through it have passed the great builders ct India's treasures temples, palaces, and mosques: kingdoms dynasties, and empires: region literature, and arts. Could we but plence the prehistoric vel, we
the find this pass to have been the very gress of that misterious and wonderful evitation of was a man knew the estene i be sound it already f
grown, and so rich as to have ever since been the coveted treasury of the world. And its bleak, rugged, gray, sinuous rocks are suggestive of the use it has served-a gateway to the strong and a trap to the weak.
The cold shadows of its arid walls of rock in winter, its burning, shadowless heat in summer, and the lurking, silent watchers on every side, undistinguishable from the broken, gray, lumpy rocks, intensify the weird silence, which is ominous, a veritable "valley of the shadow of death.'
The approach to the pass is across a great flat, stony plain for a distance of about three miles from the border city of Peshawar. The hills that inclose the pass form a rugged, gray wall-a wall that grows in length and height across the north of India until it culminates in the perpetual snow of the greatest mountains of the world.
About a mile from the entrance to the pass is Fort Jumrood, which sits on the plain in shape and appearance not unlike a modern heavy-armored battle-ship. At
this point a traveler's permit is taken; he receives in exchange an officially stamped receipt, and he is expected to get back out of the pass by five o'clock in the evening. It is a thirty-mile drive in a tonga to Lundi Kotal, which is within five miles of Lundi Khana, the Afghan boundary. Permission to visit the pass is usually given only on the two days in the week when caravans are going through, and special precautions are taken for the safety of travelers.
It is interesting to see the great caravan serai opposite Fort Jumrood, with the confused mass of merchandise; the great, brown, shaggy Persian camels spluttering and gurgling in spiteful protest; and their burly, travel-stained drivers in turbans in all stages of disarray coiled about their black, oily locks of hair and tumbling over their bronzed, bearded faces. They are clad in the loose, baggy Afghan shirts and trousers, and wear sheepskin coats. Everybody is preparing for departure, packing, cooking, eating, or smoking. Each and every man apparently is having a row with