chance we had of reaching that day the post-station of Zafarani, which was only eight miles distant — so near and yet so far! Soon after twelve, fortified by our lunch and not relishing the prospect of spending the night in a desolate wool-shed, we hardened our hearts and sallied forth into the teeth of the storm. We could only proceed in single file at a walking pace; the sand was literally blinding, and each rider was only just able to keep the tail of the horse in front of him in view; no talking was possible, owing to the violence of the wind and the danger of being choked with sand. After one hour and a half of blinding torture we struggled into Zafarani, where we spent the rest of the day, bathing our sore eyes, and beating and brushing our clothes. During the night the storm continued raging, and in the morning when we awoke we found all our clothes, which had been so carefully cleaned, covered with a coating of fine sand. Chivers' disgust and indignation may well be imagined.
On going out about 6.30, Monday, March 17th, I found that the wind had slightly moderated, and as our course lay over rocky and
