 Section 32 of A Year Amongst the Persians by Edward Granville Brown. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Nicholas James Bridgewater. A Year Amongst the Persians by Edward Granville Brown. Section 32. Chapter 14. Yazd. Continued. Chand. Chand as hikmate yunon yon. Hikmate imon yon ro. Ham bechon. How long. How long of the wisdom of the Greeks. Study also the wisdom of the people of faith. Chand as hikmate yunon yon. That unapproachable unseen, which was want to say, Thou shalt not see me. Lo, melodious with song, hath appeared in the world, It hath lifted the veil, good tidings, O gods. Lo, the supreme theophany hath come. In the last chapter, I have spoken chiefly of the Zoroastrians. In this, I propose to say something concerning my dealings with the Barbies of Yazd, of whom also I saw a good deal. And, first of all, a few words are necessary as to the relations subsisting between the votaries of these two religions, the oldest and the newest which Persia has produced. Their relations to one another are of a much more friendly character than are the relations of either of them towards the Muhammadan's, and this for several reasons. Both of them are liable to persecution at the hands of the Muhammadan's, and so have a certain fellow feeling and sympathy. Both of them are more tolerant towards such as are not of their own faith than the Muhammadan's. The Zoroastrians, as already said, regarding the virtuous of the seven climes as their friends, and the Barbies being commanded by Baha to associate with men of all religions, with spirituality and sweet savor, and to regard no man as unclean by reason of his faith. Moreover, the Barbies recognize Zoroasta as a prophet, though without much enthusiasm, and are at some pains to conciliate and win over his followers to their way of thinking. As instanced by the epistles addressed by Baha from Akre to certain of their number, while some few at least of the Zoroastrians are not indisposed to recognize in Baha their expected deliverer, Shah Bahram, who as Dastur Ti Randals informed me, must appear soon if they were to be rescued from their abasement. And the good religion re-established. The Dastur himself, indeed, would not admit that Baha could be this promised saviour, who, he said, must come before the next Nohruz if he were to come at all. But others of his co-religionists were less confident on this point, and in Kermon I met at least one who was, so far as I could ascertain, actually a Barbie. The marked predilection towards the Barbies displayed by Monakji, the late Zoroastrian agent at Tehran, at whose instigation the Tauri Hejadid, or new history of the Barb's manifestation was written, must also have reacted powerfully on his Zoroastrian brethren. I have already remarked on the hatred with which the Zoroastrians regard the Arabs, and the fact that the Barbie movement was entirely Persian in origin, no doubt inclines them to look favourably on it. One of them said as much to me, the Semitic peoples, he added, were comparable to ravening beasts of prey, and the Arian races, to the peaceful and productive animals. An unmodified Semitic religion, he maintained, could never really be acceptable to Aryans. I may here mention a very absurd fiction, which I have more than once heard the Zoroastrians maintain in the presence of Mosulmans or Barbies, namely that Zoroaster was identical with Abraham. The chief argument whereby they seek to establish this thesis is as follows. You recognise five Nabiye Morsal, prophets sent with new revealed scriptures, as opposed to prophets merely sent to warn and preach repentance, who are called Nabiye Monzer. Say they, to it Abraham with the Suhuf, leaves, tracts or epistles, Moses with the Torah, Pentateuch, David with the Mazamir, Psalms, Jesus with the Injil, Gospel, and Muhammad with the Quran. And you believe that the book of each of these five and a remnant of his people shall continue in the world, so long as it lasts. Now of each of the last four, the book and the people exist to our day, but where is the Suhuf of Abraham and where his followers? Does it not seem probable to you that the Suhuf is our revester, that Abraham is but another name for Zoroaster, and that we are his people? As further proof of this contention, Ardeshir declared that mention was made of Barohim, who was evidently the same as Ebrohim. Abraham in the Shah-Nameh, and I think he strove to connect this word with Brahman and Bahram, for he was capable of much in the way of etymology and comparative philology. I do not suppose that in their hearts many of the Zoroastrians really believe this nonsense, but it has always been a great object with them to get themselves included among the Ahlul Kitab, or people to whom a revealed book recognized by the Muhammedans has been vouchsafed, in as much as these enjoy many privileges, denied to the pagan and idolater. My first introduction to the barbees of Yazd I have already described. The morning after I had taken up my quarters in Ardeshir's garden, I received a message from Hauji Sayed M, about 6am, inviting me to take my early tea in a garden of his situated close at hand. Thither I at once repaired, and after a while found myself alone with the barbie poet Andalib. How was it, he began, that the Jews, although in expectation of their Messiah, failed to recognize him in the Lord Jesus? Because, I answered, they looked only at the letter and not the spirit of their books, and had formed a false conception of the Messiah and his advent. May not you Christians have done the same, he continued, with regard to him whose advent you expect, the promised comforter? May he not have come while you continue heedless? Within a few miles of Akre is a monastery of Carmelite monks, who have taken up their abode there, to await the return of Christ, because their books tell them that he will return there. He has returned there, almost at their very door, yet they recognize him not, but continue gazing up to heaven, whence as they vainly suppose, he will descend. Consider the parable of the Lord of the vineyard, he resumed after a while, which is contained in your Gospel. First, he sent servants to demand his rights from those wicked men, to whom the vineyard was let. These were the prophets before Christ. Then he sent his own son, whom they killed. This was Christ himself, as you yourselves admit. And after that, what shall the Lord of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy the husbandman, and will give the vineyard unto others. Mark 12, 9. Do you then regard Baha'u as the Lord of the vineyard, that is to say, as God himself, I inquired in astonishment. What say your own books? He replied, Who is he who shall come after the Son? Well, but what then say you of Muhammad? I demanded. For if you accept this parable, and interpret it thus, there is no place left for him, since he comes after the Son, and before the Lord of the vineyard. He was a messenger sent to announce the advent of the Lord of the vineyard, replied Andalib. Then said I, He was less than the Son. Yes, answered Andalib. He was. He then spoke of other matters, of the devotion of the youth Badi, who came on foot from Akhre to Tehran, there to meet a cruel death, with Baha'u's letter to Nasseruddin Shah, of the martyrs of Esfahan, and the miserable end of their persecutors, Sheikh Balder, and the Imam Jum'e, of the downfall of Napoleon III, foretold by Baha'u in the epistle addressed to the French Emperor, when he was at the zenith of his power, and read by himself, four years before the accomplishment of the prediction. Concerning Badi, he remarked, Even Christ prayed, that if possible, this cup might pass from him, while this lad joyfully hastened, with unholting and unswerving feet, over many a weary mile of desert and mountain, bearing his own death warrant in his hand, to quaff the draught of martyrdom. As we were leaving the garden, he took me by the hand, and besought me, to go to Akhre, and see Baha'u for myself. How noble a work might be yours, he said, if you could become assured of the truth of his claim, in spreading the good news through your country. Next day, I received a visit from a Sarhang, or Colonel, who filled at that time, a rather responsible post at Yazd, whence he has since been transferred to another important town, in the south of Persia. He too proved to be a barbie, and conversed very freely about the new manifestation. In accordance with the injunction, address men according to the measure of their understanding, said he, it behoves every divine messenger to impart to his people only so much spiritual knowledge as they are capable of receiving. Wherefore, as mankind advances in education, the old creeds necessarily lose their significance, and the old formulae become obsolete. So if a child were to ask what we meant by saying that knowledge was sweet, we might give it a sugar plum, and say, it resembles this, so that the child, liking the sugar plum, might desire knowledge. Though, as a matter of fact, the two have nothing in common. Too rough uncultivated men, such as the Arabs with whom Muhammad had to deal, the pleasures of divine love cannot be more clearly symbolized than as a material paradise of beautiful gardens and rivers of milk and wine and honey, where they shall be waited on by black-eyed maidens and fair boys. Now we have outgrown this coarse symbolism, and are fitted to receive a fuller measure of spiritual truth and wisdom, from him who is the fountain head of wisdom, and the wisest of all living men, Bahar. Two days later, I was invited by Halji Sayed M to spend the day with him and his friends in one of his gardens situated outside the town on the road to Taft. He kindly sent his servant with a horse to convey me thither, and I had lunch and tea there, returning home about sunset. There were a good many guests, all so far as I could make out being Barbies, including Andalib and a very vivacious little merchant on whom, in consideration of the very humorous manner in which he impersonated, for our amusement, the venal conduct of a certain eminent mullah of Yazd on the judgment seat, the title of Sheikh was bestowed. The garden, with its roses, mulberry trees, pomegranates in full blossom, syringas, nastarjan, cool marble tanks, and tiny streams, was like a dream of delight, and I have seldom spent a pleasanter day anywhere. I conversed chiefly with Andalib, who read me some of his own poems and also wrote down for me one of the beautiful odes attributed to the barbie heroine and martyr, Qoratul Ain. The text of this, with a translation into English verse, will be found at pages 314-6 of volume 2 of my Traveler's Narrative. He talked a good deal about the identity of all the prophets whom he regarded as successive manifestations or incarnations of the divine will or universal reason. If that is so, I urged, how can you speak of one manifestation as more perfect than another, or of one prophet as superior to another? From our human point of view, he replied, we are entitled to speak thus, although from the standpoint of the absolute, it is incorrect. It is the same sun which rises every day to warm and light us, and no one, for a moment, doubts this. Yet we say, the sun is hotter in summer than in winter or warmer today than yesterday, or in a different sign of the zodiac now, from that which it occupied a month ago. Speaking relatively to ourselves, this is perfectly true, but when we consider the sun, apart from accidents of time, place, environment, and the like, we perceive it to be ever one and the same. Unchanged and unchangeable, so is it with the sun of truth, which rises from the horizon of the heart, and illuminates the spiritual firmament? Is it not strange then, I asked, that different prophets should advance different claims, one announcing himself as the friend of God, another as the interlocutor of God, another as the apostle of God, another as the son of God, and another as God himself? No, he answered, and I will strive to make it clearer by means of a parable. A certain king, holding sway over a vast empire, desired to discover, with his own eyes, the causes of disorders which prevailed in one of his provinces, so that he might take effectual measures to remedy them. He determined therefore to go thither himself, and laying aside his kingly state to mix with the people on terms of intimacy. So he wrote a letter declaring the bearer of it to be an officer of the king's household, sealed it with the royal seal, and, thus provided, went in disguise to the province in question, where he announced that he was an officer sent by the king to inquire into the disorders prevailing amongst the people, in proof of which he produced the royal warrant, which he had himself written. After a while, when order had been in some degree restored, and all men were more loyally disposed, he announced himself to be the king's own minister, producing another royal warrant in proof of this. Last of all, he threw off all disguise, and said, I am the king himself. Now, all the time he was really the king, though men knew him not, yet was his state and majesty at first not as it was at last. So is it with the divine will or universal reason, which, becoming manifest from time to time, for our guidance declares itself now as the apostle of God, now as the son of God, and at last as God himself. We are not asked to acknowledge a higher status than it sees fit to claim at any particular time, but the royal signet is the sufficient proof of any claim which it may advance, including that of the supreme majesty itself. But as Molono Jalolo Din Rumi says, it needs an eye which is king discerning to recognize the king in whatever garb. Later on, I asked Hauji Sayed M what he considered to be the difference between the Sufi saint who had attained to the station of annihilation in God, wherein, like Mansoura Hallauj, he could cry, I am the truth, and the prophet. What in short, I concluded, is the difference between the I am God of Mansour and the I am God of Bahar, for as your own proverb has it, there is no colour beyond black. The difference, said he, is as the difference between our sitting here and saying, see, this is a rose garden, and one saying, I am such and such a rose in that garden. The one reaches a point where, losing sight and cognizance of self, he wanders at will through the world of divinity. The other is the throne on which God sits, as he himself saith, he set himself upon the throne. One is a perfect reflection of the sun, cast in a pure clear mirror. The other is the sun itself. A few days later, after the month of Ramazan had begun, I paid another visit to Hauji Sayed M's house, where three of my Zoroastrian friends presently joined me. And Alib, as usual, was the chief spokesman, and amongst other things, laid down the dogma that faith and unbelief were the root or essence of the whole matter, and good or bad actions only branches or subsidiaries. This position I attacked with some warmth. Suppose a Jew and a Christian, said he, the former merciful, charitable, benevolent, humane, pious, but rejecting and denying Christ, the latter cruel, selfish, vindictive, but accepting and reverencing him. Of these two, which do you regard as the better man? Without doubt the Jew, I answered. God forbid, replied he, without doubt the Christian. God is merciful and forgiving, and can pardon sin. Can he not then pardon unbelief, I demanded? No, he answered, from those who do not believe, is taken the spirit which once they had, to which the present wretchedness and a basement of the Jews bears witness. As it did not appear to me that the nations professing the Christian religion had suffered much abasement on account of their rejection of Muhammad, I said, thinking to get the better of the argument, do you consider that every people which rejects a new manifestation must be similarly abased? He did not fall into my trap, however. No, he answered, not unless they have been guilty of some special act of hostility or cruelty towards the bearer of the new gospel. What then, I demanded of the Muhammadan, can one conceive of greater hostility or cruelty than they showed towards the Bob, and those who followed him, shall they too be abased? Yay, verily he answered. And grievous shall be their abasement. Look at these poor gebers, pointing to my Zoroastrian friends, how miserable is their condition, and why? Because of the sin of Khusro Parviz, who tore up the letter which the apostle of God sent to him, inviting him to embrace Islam. Yet had he some excuse, for he was a great king belonging to a mighty dynasty which had ruled for many generations, while the letter was from an unknown member of a despised and subject race. And was, moreover, curt and unceremonious in the extreme, beginning, this is a letter from Muhammadan, the apostle of God, to Khusro Parviz. What shall we say of the king, who not only tore up the letter, but slew with the most cruel torments, the messenger of one greater than Muhammadan, the letter being, moreover, written in the most courteous and conciliatory tone. But the Christians never acted thus towards Muhammadan, and some, such as the Abyssinian Najalshi, did all in their power to succour and protect those who, for their belief in him, had become wanderers and exiles. I tried to ascertain Andalib's beliefs as to the future life, a subject on which I have always found the Barbies singularly reticent, and he told me that, according to their belief, the body, the vegetable soul, and the animal soul, all the lower principles in fact, underwent disintegration and redistribution, while the luminous spirit, Ruhenurani, survived to receive rewards or punishments, whereof the nature was unrevealed and unknown. He then turned upon the Zoroastrians, and upbraided them for their indifference in matters of religion. For all these years, he concluded, you have been seeing and hearing of Jews, Christians, and Muhammadans. Have you ever taken the trouble to ascertain the nature of their beliefs, or of the proofs and arguments by which they support them? If for a single week, you had given half the attention which you devote to your worldly business, to a consideration of these matters, you would, in all probability, have attained to certainty. What fault can be greater than this indifference and neglect? A few days after this, I returned the Sarhang's visit. He received me very kindly in his house, situated near the mosque of Mir Chakmach. And though it was Ramazan, gave me tea, and himself drank a little hot water. The conversation at once turned on religion. He began by discussing the martyrdom of Imam Hussein, the chief of martyrs, and of Abbas Ali Akbar, and the rest of his relatives and companions at Karbala, declaring that had it not been for the wrong suffered by these, Islam would never have gained one tenth of the strength it actually possesses. From this topic, he passed to the barbie insurrection, headed by Al-Ghar Sayyid Yahyaal of Daurab, which was put down with great severity in the summer of 1850. Two of my relatives were in the army of the malignants, he began. So I know a good deal about what took place, and more especially how God punished them for their wickedness. When orders came from Tehran to Shiraz to put down the insurrection, my maternal grandfather, the Shoja ul-Mulk, received instructions to march against the barbies of Nay-Riz. He was somewhat unwilling to go, and consulted two of the clergy, who reassured him, telling him that it was a jihad or holy war, and that to take part in it would ensure him a great reward in the afterlife. So he went, and what was done was done. The malignants, after they had slain 750 men of the barbies, took the women and children, stripped them nearly naked, mounted them on camels, mules and asses, and led them forth through an avenue of heads severed from those who had been their husbands, brothers, fathers, and sons towards Shiraz. When they arrived there, they were lodged in a ruined caravanserai just outside the Esfahan gate, opposite to an emom-zaude, near to which the soldiers encamped under some trees. There, exposed to all manner of hardships, insults, and persecutions, they were kept for a long while, during which many of them died. And now hear how God took vengeance on some of those who were prominent as persecutors of his saints. My grandfather, the Shoja Olmulk, when stricken down by his last illness, was dumb till the day of his death. Just at the end, those who stood round him saw his lips move, and, stooping down to hear what he was whispering, heard him repeat the word, Balbi, three times. Immediately afterwards, he fell back dead. My great uncle, Mirzo Naim, who also took part in the suppression of the Nehri's rising, fell into disgrace with the government, and was twice heavily mulked. Ten thousand Tomans the first time, fifteen thousand Tomans the second. His punishment did not stop here. He was made to stand bare-headed in the sun, with syrups smeared over his face to attract the flies. His feet were crushed in the Galjar boot, and his hands submitted to the El Chek, that is to say, pieces of wood were inserted between his fingers, round which whip cord was tightly bound, and on the whip cord, cold water was poured to make it contract, nor were these the worst or most degrading Tomans to which he was subjected. I will tell you another instance of divine vengeance. There was, in Shiraz, a certain Sheikh Hossein who bore the honorific title of Nazem ul Olamaw, but who was generally known by reason of his injustice as Zalem, tyrant. He was not only concerned in the events I have described, but manifested a specially malignant hatred towards the barb. So far did this hatred carry him, that when the barb was before Hossein Khaun, the governor of Fars, he drew his penknife from his pen case, and cried, If you will not order his execution, I will kill him with this. Later on, when the barb had gone to Esfahan, he followed him wither, declaring that he would not cease to dog his footsteps till he had enjoyed the satisfaction of carrying out the death sentence on him, till at last the governor of Esfahan sent him back to Shiraz, telling him that whenever that time came, the Mir Qazaab or executioner would be ready to do his duty. Well, after his return to Shiraz, he became affected with a scrotal swelling, which attained so enormous a size that he could hardly sit his horse, and had to be lifted into the saddle. Later on, before he died, his face turned black, save that one side was flecked with white spots, and thus he lay in his bed, loathsome alike to sight and smell, smearing his countenance with filth, and crying upon God to whiten his face on the last day when the faces of others should be black. So he died. A few days after this, I again paid a visit to Harji Sayed M's house, and Aleeb of course was there, and took tea with me, explaining that as his throat was sore, he was not fasting that day. He had found the passages occurring in Bahar's epistle to one of the Turkish ministers who had oppressed him, wherein the catastrophes impending over the Ottoman Empire were foretold. The first, which was in Arabic, ran as follows. And if he please, he will assuredly make you as scatterd dust, and will overtake you with vengeance on his part. Trouble shall appear in your midst, and your realms shall be divided. Then shall ye lament and humble yourselves, and shall not find for yourselves any ally or helper. The second in Persian ran thus. But wait, for God's wrath is made ready, and ye shall shortly behold that which hath descended from the pen of command. It was a pretty sight to see Harji Sayed M, with his little child, to which he appeared devotedly attached, and which he would seldom suffer to be long out of his sight. When I had read the passage above translated, he took the book from me, and held it out to the little one, saying, kiss the book, which, after some coaxing, it was prevailed upon to do, a baby barbie. End of section 32, recording by Nicholas James Bridgewater, recorded in London, England. Section 33 of A Year Amongst the Persians by Edward Granville Brown. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Nicholas James Bridgewater. A Year Amongst the Persians by Edward Granville Brown, section 33. On the following afternoon, I again visited the Sarhang. Another man, to whom he did not introduce me, was with him when I arrived, but soon left. The Sarhang upbraided me for wishing to leave Yazd so soon, saying that he had not seen nearly as much of me as he would have liked, and then asked me whether I had attained any greater certainty in the matter of the barbie religion. I stated certain difficulties and objections, which he discussed with me. He also showed me some barbie poems, including one by Janabe Mariam, the sister of Mullah Hossein of Bosrui, the bob's first convert and missionary, written in imitation of a rather celebrated ode of Champs-E-Tabris. While we were examining these, a servant entered and announced the arrival of Chodaw, God, and close on his heels followed the person so designated, a handsome, but rather wild-looking man whose real name I ascertained to be Hauji Mirza Mohammed, commonly called Divaune, the madman. The Sarhang introduced him as one controlled by divine attraction, Majzoub, whose excessive love for God was proof against every trial, and who was deeply attached to the words of Christ, especially as recorded in the Gospel of Saint Matthew, which would move him to tears. The madman, meanwhile, had taken up one of the volumes of Baubi al-Vau, epistles which the Sarhang had brought out and began to read from it in a very melodious voice. If you could understand all the beauties of these words, he said as he concluded his reading and laid down the book, you would at once be firmly convinced of the truth of the new manifestation. I tried to put some questions on religious matters to them, but at first they would hardly listen to me, pouring forth torrents of rhapsody. At length, however, I succeeded in stating some of the matters on which I wish to hear their views, namely the position accorded by them to Islam in the series of theophanies, and the reasons for its lower standard of ethics and morality, lower ideal of future bliss, and greater harshness of rule and practice as compared with Christianity. The answers which they returned made me realise once again how widely separated from each other were our respective points of view. They seemed to have no conception of absolute good or absolute truth. To them, good was merely what God chose to ordain, and truth what he chose to reveal, so that they could not understand how anyone could attempt to test the truth of a religion by an abstract ethical or moral standard. God's attributes according to their belief were twofold, attributes of grace, sefalte jamal or lotf, and attributes of wrath, sefalte jalal or ghar. Both were equally divine, and in some dispensations, as the Christian and Balbi, the former, in some, as the Mosaic and the Muhammadan, the latter predominated. A divine messenger or prophet, having once established the validity of his claim by suitable evidence, was to be obeyed in all things without criticism or questioning, and he had as much right to kill or compel as a surgeon has to resort to amputation or the actual courtary, in cases where milder methods of treatment would be likely to prove inefficacious. As for the Muhammadan paradise, with its jewelled thrones, its rivers of milk and wine and honey, its delicious fruits, and its beautiful attendants, it fulfilled its purpose, for every people must be addressed in words suited to the measure of their intellectual capacity, and the people to whom the prophet Muhammad was sent could not have apprehended a higher ideal of future bliss. They could see nothing immoral or unsatisfactory in a man's renouncing pleasures forbidden in this life, so as to enjoy them everlastingly in a future state. Wishing to ascertain the views of the Sarhang, and his friend Divaone on Sufism and its saints, I briefly described to them certain phases of thought through which I myself had passed, and certain conclusions as to the relation and significance of different religions which its teachings had suggested to me. In a well-known aphorism I concluded, it is said that the ways unto God are as the number of the souls of the children of men. Every religion is surely an expression more or less clear and complete of some aspect of a great central truth which itself transcends expression, even as Nezomi says, He taketh the tongue from such as share the mystery, so that they may not repeat the king's secret. Thus in Islam, the absolute unity of God is above all insisted upon. In the dualism of the Zoroastrians, the eternal conflict between good and evil, light and darkness, being and not being, the one and the many is symbolized. While the Christian Trinity, as I understand it, is the Trinity of the sun, the sunbeams which proceed from the sun and the mirror, cleansed from every stain, wherein these falling produce, neither by absorption of the mirror into the sun, nor by the incarnation of the sun in the mirror, but by the annihilation of the mirrorhood of the mirror in the sun's effulgence, a perfect image of the sun. Even idolatry subsists only by virtue of a truth which it embodies, as Sheikh Mahmood Shabestari says, Did the Mosul-mon understand what the idol is? He would know that there is religion even in idolatry. So in every religion, there is truth for those who faithfully and earnestly seek it, and hence we find amongst the followers of religions apparently most divergent, living in lands and times so widely separated as to preclude all possibility of intercommunication, men who, led by that inner light, which lighteth everyone who cometh into the world, have arrived at doctrines practically identical. Is not this identity a sign of their truth? Is it not moreover, far more consistent with God's universal mercy, to reveal himself thus inwardly, to every pure soul than by a written scripture confided only to a comparatively small section of the human race? If salvation is only for the people of the Qur'an, then how hard is the lot of my people, to most of whom know more than its name, if so much is known? If on the other hand, only the people of the Gospel are to be saved, what possible chance of eternal happiness has been given to the great bulk of your fellow countrymen? From a Sufi, I should have confidently expected a cordial endorsement of these views, but not from a Balbi, and I was therefore surprised by the acclamations with which both of my companions received them, and still more so by the outburst of wild enthusiasm which they invoked in Divolne, who sprang from his seat, waving his arms and clapping his hands with cries of, you have understood it, you have got it, God bless you, God bless you. Well then, I continued, what do you consider to be the difference between a prophet and a saint, who by purification of the heart, and renunciation of self, has reached the degree of annihilation in God, for as your own proverb says, there is no colour beyond black. The difference, they replied, is this. The saint, who has reached this degree, and can, like Mansour, the Wulcada, say, I am the truth, has no charge laid on him to guide and direct others, and is therefore not bound to be cautious and guarded in his utterances, since the possible consequences of these concern himself alone, and he has passed beyond himself. While the prophet is bound to have regard to the dictates of expediency and the requirements of the time, hence it is that, as a matter of fact, most of the great Sufi saints were put to death, or subjected to grievous persecutions. I did not see the madman again, but the Sarhang paid me a farewell visit on the morrow, and brought with him another officer, who, as I was informed, belonged to the Ali Elohi sect, and was, like many of that sect, very favourably disposed towards Barbism, concerning which the Sarhang spoke freely before him. Meanwhile, the time of my departure was drawing near, and it was in some degree hastened by the kindly meant, but somewhat irksome, attentions of the prince-governor. He, as I have already mentioned, had set his heart on visiting a certain waterfall in the mountains, without which he declared my journey to Yazd would be incomplete. As I had no particular desire to see this waterfall, and was anxious to avoid the trouble and expense in which the mounted escort which he wished to send with me, would certainly have involved me, I determined to parry his proposals with those expressions of vague gratitude which I had already learned to regard as the most effectual means of defence in such cases, and meanwhile to complete my preparations for departure, and quietly slip away to Kermann with a farewell letter of thanks and apologies to be dispatched at the last moment. There was no particular difficulty about obtaining mules for the journey, but it appeared to be impossible to hire a horse for myself to ride. Personally, I was quite indifferent as to whether I rode on a horse or a mule, but my friends, both Barbies and Zoroastrians, were horrified at the idea of my entering Kermann on the quadruped. It would be so undignified, they said, so derogatory to my state, so incompatible with the idea of distinction. At first I was disposed to derive these notions, pointing out that the well-known Arabic proverb, the dignity of the dwelling is in the dweller, might fairly be paralleled by another. The dignity of the mount is in the rider, but they evidently felt so strongly on the subject that, seeing that I had received much kindness at their hands and was the bearer of letters of recommendation to their friends at Kermann, I finally gave way and asked them what they advised. I advise you to give up the idea of going to Kermann altogether, said Andalib. You will get no good by it, and you see the difficulties that it involves. Go to Akhre instead. That will be easily done on your homeward journey, and there from far greater blessings and advantages are likely to result. But, said I, I am in some sort pledged to go to Kermann, as I have written to Shiraz and also to my friends in England stating this to be my intention. You are quite right, said Ardeshir, and I for my part advise you to adhere to your plan, for to change one's plans without strong reason is to lay oneself open to a charge of indecision and a lack of firm purpose. Well, I rejoined, if I am not to go there on a mule and cannot hire a horse, what am I to do? Shall I, for instance, walk, or would it be more dignified to go on a camel? Post, said one. Buy a horse, said another. As for posting, I said, I have had enough of that. I never understood the force of the proverb as sefer sekor. Travel is travail. Literally, travel is hellfire. Between sefer and sekor, there exists that species of word play, technically termed taj nisechati, or linear pun. That is to say, the two words as written in the Arabic character are identical in outline and differ only in diacritical points. This play is ingeniously preserved in Sir Richard Burton's translation, or paraphrase of the proverb which is here given in the text. Till I posted from Shiraz to Derbide, but as for buying a horse, that is a more practicable idea, supposing that a suitable animal is forthcoming at a moderate price. A friend of mine at Tehran told me that he kept a horse so as to be able to enjoy the luxury of going on foot, because so long as he had no horse, it was supposed that the cause of his walking was either parsimony or poverty, but when it was known that he had one, his pedestrian progress was ascribed to eccentricity. Now, I do not wish to be regarded as poor, still less as parsimonious, but I have no objection to being credited with eccentricity, and I should greatly enjoy the liberty of being able to walk as much and as often as I please. After my guests had gone, I talked the matter over with Houji Saffar, who was strongly in favour of my buying a horse, although he continued to recur with some bitterness to the fact that he had entered Yazd riding on a donkey, he was good enough to make no difficulties about riding a mule to Kermon. Next day, Bahman came, bringing with him the mule tier, who was to supply me with the two mules I needed for my journey, he also brought a horse belonging to a Zoroastrian miller, who was willing to sell it for 18 tomans, nearly 6 pounds. It was by no means an ill looking animal, and both Houji Saffar and myself having mounted it and tried its paces, liked it well. However, with a view to forming a better idea of its capacities, I had it saddled again in the evening, and went for a short ride outside the town, from which I returned delighted with a full determination to buy it. Shortly after my return, the owner came to the garden, and the bargain was soon concluded to the satisfaction of all concerned. Houji Saffar was especially delighted. You will have to give me three or four tomans a month more now, he said, to look after your horse. Or else engage another servant, I suggested. His face fell. Don't be afraid, I continued. I have enough trouble with you already. You shall have the groom's wages in addition to your own, and you can either look after the horse yourself, or engage someone else to do so. Only in the latter case, please to understand clearly that the selection, appointment, payment and dismissal of the groom is to be entirely in your hands, and that in no case will I listen to any complaints on either side, or mix myself up in any way in the quarrels you are sure to have. Houji Saffar was so elated by this arrangement that he launched out into a series of anecdotes about one of his former masters named Houji Qambar, who had held some position of authority that of chief constable or governor I believe, in Tehran, some 15 years previously. Although his own morals do not seem to have been beyond reproach, he punished the offences of others with great severity. He ordered a dervish who had got drunk on Arag to be bastinado'd for three hours, and even sayyeds were not protected from castigation by their holy lineage, for which nevertheless he would profess the greatest respect, causing the dark blue turbans and sashes which were the outward sign thereof to be transferred to a tree or bush, to which he would then do abasance, ere he bade his farroshes, beat the unlucky owner of the sacred tokens within an inch of his life. One evening continued Houji Saffar, I and three others of his pishched mats, pages were taking a stroll in the town when we noticed in a coffee house a man accompanied by what we at first took to be a very handsome youth, round whose kolor a handkerchief was tied in Kurdish fashion. So as to conceal the hair, on looking more attentively however, we were convinced that this seeming youth was really a woman in disguise so we arrested the two and brought them to Houji Gambar's house. Then I went to him and said, Master, we have brought something to show you. And what may that be? He asked. Come with me, I said, and I will show you. So he followed me into the room where our prisoners were waiting. A nice looking boy is he not, said I, pointing to the younger of the two. Well, what have you brought him here for? Demanded my master. And nicely dressed too, I continued, disregarding his question. Look at the pretty Kurdish handkerchief he has wound round his kolor, and as I spoke I plucked it off and the girl's hair escaping from constraint fell down over her shoulders. When the Houji discovered that our prisoner was a girl dressed in man's clothes, he was very angry, reviled her in unmeasured terms, and ordered her to be locked up in a cupboard, on which he set his seal till the morning. In the morning she was taken out, placed in a sack, and beaten all over by the farroshes, after which her head was shaved and she was released. I had not yet bought my horse or completed my preparations for departure, when I was again sent for by the Prince Governor. This time I had not to go on foot, for one of my bobby friends insisted on lending me a very beautiful white horse which belonged to him. I tried to refuse his kind offer, saying that the Dastur was to accompany me to the Government House, and that as he could not ride I would rather go on foot also. In our country, I said, we are taught to respect age and learning, and the Dastur is old and learned, for which reason it appears to me, most unseemly, that I should ride, and he walk beside me. He is a Zoroastrian. I am a Christian. Both of us are regarded by the Mosul mounds as infidels and unclean, and if they could they would subject me to the same disabilities which are imposed on him. Let me therefore walk beside him to show my contempt for those disabilities and my respect for the Dastur and his co-religionists. If you desire to better the Zoroastrians, replied my friend, it is advisable for you to go to the Prince with as much state and circumstance as possible. The more honour paid to you, the better for them. The Dastur himself took exactly the same view, so there was nothing for it but to acquiesce. Half an hour before sunset, the horse and servant of my friend came to the garden and immediately after them the usual band of government farroshes with a large lantern. I had arrayed myself in a new suit of clothes made by a Yazdi tailor of white shawl stuff on the pattern of an English suit. These were cool, comfortable and neat, and though they would probably have been regarded as somewhat eccentric in England, I reflected that no one at Yazd or Kermon would doubt that they were the ordinary summer attire of an English gentleman. Houji Safar indeed laughingly remarked that people would say I had turned barbie. I suppose because the early barbies were want to wear white raiment but otherwise expressed the fullest approval. The first question addressed to me by the Prince on my entering his presence was, when are you going? On hearing that I proposed to start on the next day but one, he turned to the Dastur and inquired whether he intended to accompany me. The Dastur replied that he could not do so as one of the Zoroastrian festivals which necessitated his presence in Yazd was close at hand and that as it lasted a week I could not postpone my departure till it was over. Hearing this the Prince wished to rearrange my plans entirely. I must go on the morrow he said to visit the waterfall and the mountains, remain there five days then return to the city to see the Zoroastrian festival and after that accompany the Zoroastrians to some of their shrines and holy places. Protestations were vain and I was soon reduced to a sulky silence which was relieved by the otherwise unwelcome intrusion of a large tarantula and its pursuit and slaughter. After conversing for a while on general topics and receiving for translation into English the rough draft of a letter which the Prince wished to send to Bombay to order some photographic apparatus for his son, Manucher Mirzau, I was suffered to depart. I now determined to carry into effect my plan of taking French leave of the Prince and accordingly my preparations being completed on the very morning of the day fixed for my departure I wrote him a polite letter thanking him very heartily for the many attentions he had shown me expressing regrets that the limited time at my disposal would not suffer me either to follow out the program he had so kindly arranged for me or to pay him a farewell visit and concluding with a prayer for the continuance of his kindly feeling towards myself and of his just rule over the people of Yazd. This letter I confided to the Dastur who happened to be going to the government house together with the English translation of the order which the Prince wished to send to the Bombay photographer. I now flattered myself that I was well out of the difficulty and returned with relief to my packing but I had returned altogether without my host for in less than an hour I was interrupted by the Prince's self-sufficient Pichet Mat who brought back the letter to the Bombay photographer with a request that I would write a literal translation of it in Persian. This involved unpacking my writing materials and while I was engaged in this and the translation of the letter one of the servants of my Barbie friends came with a horse to take me to their house. Towards this man the Pichet Mat behaved with great insolence asking him many impertinent and irrelevant questions and finally turning him out of the room. At length I finished the translation and to my great relief got rid of the Pichet Mat as I hoped for good. I then proceeded to the house of my Barbie friends, bade them a most affectionate farewell, received from them the promised letters of recommendation for Kermon and the names of the principal Barbies at Nuuk, Bahram Abad and Ney Riz and returned about sunset to the garden. Here I found the Dastur, Ardashir and Bahman awaiting me and also to my consternation the irrepressible Pichet Mat who brought a written message from the Prince expressing great regret at my departure and requesting me if possible to come and see him at once. As the hour of departure was now near at hand I was weary and eager for a little rest before setting out on the long night march to Sarayazd. I would feign have excused myself, but seeing that my Zoroastrian friends wished me to go I ordered my horse to be saddled and set out with the Pichet Mat. We rode rapidly through the dark and narrow streets, but in crossing the waste ground in front of the government house my horse stumbled in a hole and fell with me luckily without doing much harm to himself or me. The Prince was greatly concerned on hearing of my fall and would hardly be persuaded that it was of no consequence. Indeed I was rather afraid that he would declare it of evil augury for my journey and insist on my postponing my departure. However this my farewell interview passed off as smoothly as could be wished and I sat for about an hour smoking, drinking sherbet and conversing. He paid me many undeserved compliments declaring that the letter I had written to him was better than he could have believed it possible for a European to write and that he intended to send it to the Prime Minister the Aminos Sultan. I in return expressed the genuine admiration with which I regarded his just, liberal and enlightened rule, prayed that God might prolong his shadow so long as the months repeated themselves and the days recurred and finished up by putting in a good word for the Zoroastrians. So we parted with mutual expressions of affection and esteem but not till he had made me promise to accept the escort of a mounted tofang chi or musketman and further placed in my hands a letter of recommendation to the Prince Governor of Kermon. Of this which was given to me open and unsealed I preserved a copy which as it may be of interest to the curious I hear translate, promising only that the terms in which the Prince Emorde d'Olé was kind enough to describe me exaggerated as they appear in English are but the common places of polite Persian. In the abode of security of Kermon may it be honoured by the august service of the desirable, most honorable, most illustrious, nobly born lord, the most mighty, most puissant prince, his highness Nosero d'Olé, may his glory endure, governor and ruler of the spacious domain of Kermon, on the 14th of Ramazan was it dispatched. 2468. This mystic number corresponding to the word Badu is generally written under the address on a letter to ensure its safe arrival. Red House says it is the name of an angel who is supposed to watch over letters but I never succeeded in obtaining a satisfactory explanation of it. May I be thy sacrifice, please God, our religious devotions are accepted and the care of God's servants which is the best of service on the part of the desirable, most honorable, most illustrious, most mighty and eminent prince, may his glory endure, is approved in the divine audience hall of God for they have said, by service and succour of men, we win to the grace of the Lord, by this not by rosary gown or prayer mat, we earn our reward. At all events, the bearer of this letter of longing and service is my respected and honoured friend of high degree, companion of glory and dignity, Edward Barum Sahib, the Englishman who, having come to visit this country and being now homeward bound, hath set his heart on Kermon and the rapture of waiting upon the servants of the nobly born prince. Of the characteristics of this illustrious personage, it is needless for me to make any representation, after meeting him you will be able to appreciate his good qualities and the degree of his culture and how truly sensible and well informed he is. For all his youth and fewness of years, the laudable traits which he possesses, indeed are beyond what one can represent. Since he has mentioned that he is setting out for Kermon, my very singular devotion impelled me to write these few words to the blessed presence. I trust that the sacred person of your desirable, most illustrious, most mighty and eminent highness may be conjoined with health and good fortune. More were redundant. Sealed e modo dole. It was two hours after sunset when I returned to the garden and finally got rid of the prince's pichet mat with a present of two or three tomans. Hoji Safar said that he should have had a watch or some other gift of the kind rather than money which he feared might be refused or taken amiss. However I had no watch to spare and I am bound to confess that he was condescending enough to accept the monetary equivalent with grace if not gratitude. The ferocious having likewise been dismissed with presence of money, I was left in peace with my Zoroastrian friends who, after drinking a farewell cup with me, departed with the exception of Bahman, Ardeshia's confidential clerk who remained behind to give me a statement of my finances and to pay over to me the balance still to my credit. The amount for which I had brought a check from Shiro's was 147 and a half tomans, nearly 45 pounds of which I found that I had drawn 45 tomans during my stay at Yazd. The balance of 102 and a half tomans I elected to receive in cash to the amount of 32 and a half tomans and a check on a Zoroastrian merchant of Kermon for the remaining 70 tomans, both of which Bahman, who was as business-like, careful and courteous as any English banker could have been, at once handed over to me, receiving in return a receipt for the whole sum with which I had been credited at Yazd. Little now remained to be done, but to eat my supper, put a few finishing touches to my packing and distribute small presents of money to some of those who had rendered me service. They came up in turn, called by Hauji Safar, old Jamshid the gardener received 12 grans, his little son Khosro, six grans, another gardener named Khodoudoud, 12 grans, and Hauji Sayed M servant, 20 grans. The farewells were not yet finished, for just as I was about to drink a last cup of tea, two of my bobby friends came, in spite of the lateness of the hour, to wish me Godspeed. Then they too left me, and only Bahman was present to watch the final departure of our little caravan as it passed silently forth into the desert and the darkness. End of section 33. End of chapter 14, Yazd continued. Recording by Nicholas James Bridgewater, recorded in London, England. Section 34, Chapter 15, from Yazd to Kerman, of a year amongst the Persians, by Edward Granville Brown. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. I journeyed on, bearing the brand of thy grief in my heart, from valley to valley, from stage to stage. Five men and five beasts constituted the little company in which I quitted Yazd. Besides myself and my horse, there was Amir Khan, one of the Arab tribesmen of Ardistan, whom the prince had sent as a mountain escort to see me safely to the marches of his territory. The Militia, with his three mills, two of which only were hired by me. My servant Haji Safar, and a young Tabrizzi named Mirza Yusuf, who had formally been his fellow servant, and to whom, at his request, and on the recommendation of my friend the Sarhang, I had given permission to accompany me to Kerman, where he hoped to obtain employment from Prince Nasserud Dole, and to ride on one of the lightly laden mills. Mirza Yusuf, a conceited and worthless youth, had as I subsequently discovered, and as will be more fully set forth in its proper place, being passing himself off at Yazd as a Bobby, so as to obtain help and money from rich and charitable members of that sect. And it was by this means, no doubt, that he had induced the Sarhang to bespeak my favor for him. Where all his fellow townsmen like him, no exaggeration would be chargeable against the satirists who wrote, From a Tabrizzi thou wilt see not but rascality, even this is best that thou shouldst not see any Tabrizzi. Outwardly, however, Mirza Yusuf was sufficiently well favored and civil-spoken, and it was only after my arrival in Kerman that I detected in him any worse quality than complacent, self-satisfaction, and incurable idleness. Amir Khan, being well-mounted, soon wearied of the slow march of the Karavan, and urged me to push on with him at a brisker pace. I did so, thinking, of course, that he knew the way, but this proved to be a rash assumption, for after traversing the considerable village of Muhammed Abad, he lost the road and struck off into the open desert, where the soft sand proved very arduous to my horse, which began to lag behind. A halt with Amir Khan made, not to allow me to come up with him, but to say his prayers, brought us once more together, but the subsequent appearance of two gazelles at some distance to our left was too much for his self-control, and he set off after them at full gallop. I soon abandoned all idea of following him, and having now realized his complete uselessness, both as a guide and a guard, continued to make my solitary way in the direction which I supposed to be correct. After some time, Amir Khan, having got a shot at the gazelles and missed them, returned in a more subdued frame of mind, and after again losing the way several times, we finally reached the post-house of Sarayasth, about sunrise. The remainder of the caravan, being far behind, I had nothing to do after seeing to the stabbling of my horse, but to lie down on the mud floor with my head on the rolled-up grade coat, which I had strapped to the saddle at starting and go to sleep. I was awakened about three hours later by Hajji Safar for my morning tea, and passed the day in the post-house, writing and making up my accounts. About sunset, I received a visit from a Zoroastrian who was coming up to gas from caravan. He remained with me for about an hour, chatting and drinking tea, and informed me, amongst other things, that he had spent several years in Bombay and Calcutte, that the governor of caravan, Prince Nasserudh Dole, was a most enlightened and popular ruler, that caravan was much cooler than Yaz, as proved by the fact that the Maltberries were not yet ripe there, and that cucumbers were still scarcely to be obtained. That the poverty of the inhabitants, always great, had been increased by the depreciation in shawls, which fetched less than a third of their former price, but that as against this, the crops, and especially the opium crop, had been remarkably good in the last year. We left Sarayas, between three and four hours after sunset, by the light of a nearly full moon, my Zoroastrian friend coming to beat me farewell and wish me godspeed. Amir Khan, who kept dozing off in his saddle, again led us astray, and while we were wandering about amongst the sandhills, there reached our house, a faint cry, which in that solitary and ghostly desert, caused us to start with surprise. Amir Khan, however, followed by myself, made for the spot whence it appeared to come, and there huddled together between two sandhills, we presently discerned a group of about half a dozen persons, three men, three women, and I think one child at least, gathered round a diminutive donkey. As we approached, they again addressed us in tones of entreaty, but in a dialect which was to me quite unintelligible. Amir Khan, however, understood them. They were from the city of Barbar, Shahre Barbar, which he explained was near Sistan, on the eastern frontier of Persia, and were bound for Karbala, drawn by a longing desire to visit the place of martyrdom of the Imam Hossein. They had lost their way in the desert and were sorely distressed by thirst, and the boon they craved was a draught of water. My heart was filled with pity for these poor people, an admiration for their faith and piety, and as I bade Haji Safat give them to drink from the leather bottle he carried, there ran in my mind the words of Hafiz. What the souls of thy lovers suffer at the hands of thy separation, none had experienced in the world save the thirsty ones of Karbala. The wrath and by the blessings and thanks which they poured forth as they got down the water was my compassion still further moved, and I felt constrained to give them also a small piece of money. For this Amir Khan warmly applauded me as we rode off telling the pilgrims that they were within a short distance of the village of Sarayas. Those who give said he of that which God had given them will never want, and those who will not give are not profited even in this life by their avarice. Only yesterday a beggar asked me for money. I replied that I had none, though I had three garans and a half in my pocket at that moment. But when I looked for these a little later I found that they were gone, no doubt to punish me for my niggerly conduct. After this incident the march continued in sleepy silence. But towards dawn Amir Khan who was riding beside me suddenly woke up from his dose and remarked with complete irrelevance to anything that had gone before. No sect are worse than the Babis. Why I inquired wondering what had caused him to introduce spontaneously a subject generally avoided with the most cupillous care by Persian Musalmans. They worship as God he replied a man called Mirza Hossein Ali who lives at Edrianopoul. A friend of mine at Yazd once told me that he was going there. I asked why? To visit God. Beziarate haq he answered. When he got there he was asked what work his hands could do. None said he save writing for I am a scrivener by profession. Then said they there is no place for you here and we do not want you. He was not allowed to see Mirza Hossein Ali at all but was given a handkerchief which he used and invited to make an offering of three tomans. So he returned thoroughly disgusted for said he God does not take presents. While I was considering how I should meet this salee and whether Amir Khan knowing that I had had dealings with the Babis at Yazd was anxious to war me against them. He solved the difficulty by again dozing off into a fitful slumber from which he awoke between the wolf and the sheep. Mianegorgomish as the Persians say that is at early dawn. As soon as he had collected his scattered widths he cast his eyes round the horizon in hopes of being able to discern our next halting place Zaynodin and after some scrutiny declared that we had passed it during his sleep and that it was over there pointing to a dark line on the plane behind us some distance off the track which we were following. Luckily warned by previous experience I paid no heed to his opinion and supported by Hajji Safa insisted on continuing our advance for which we were rewarded by finding ourselves in less than half an hour at Zaynodin where there is nothing but a carven saree and a very good post house. I alighted at the latter and after a cup of tea slept for about six hours. Zaynodin is the last halting place within the territories of Yazd and consequently Amir Khan had been instructed to accompany me only thus far on my journey and to obtain for me another mounted guard belonging to the jurisdiction of the governor of Kermon. I had however no desire to avail myself of this unnecessary luxury and hinted as much to Amir Khan as I placed in his hand 10 gherans. He took the hint and the money with equal readiness and we parted with mutual expression of esteem. The evening was cloudy with occasional gusts of wind and every now and then a great pillar of sand or dust would sweep across the plane after the fashion of the jennies and the arabian nights. The road presented little of interest being ever the same wide ill-defined track through a sandy plain enclosed between two peril mountain chains running from the north west to the south east. At one place I noticed a number of large caterpillars larvae of Deila Fila euphorbia I think feeding on a kind of spurge which grew by the roadside. No trace of cultivation was visible till we came within a farsach of Kermon Shahan when we passed two or three villages at about the same distance to the east of the road. We reached Kermon Shahan half an hour before sunset and alighted at the post house which was the best I had seen in Persia. There are also two Carvan Saris one old and one new. As no meat was obtainable I made my supper of eggs fried in oil and then went to sleep. I woke about two hours before dawn to find the people of the post house eating their morning meal preparatory to entering on the days fast. Hoji safar and the mulit here however were sleeping so peacefully that it seemed ashamed to wake them. So I lay down again and slept for another two hours when I was awakened by Hoji safar. It was quite light when we started but this was of little advantage as the scenery was precisely the same in character as on the previous day. The road however hugged the western range of mountains more closely and indeed at one point we passed inside a few outlying hills. Kermon Shahan was inside for two hours and a quarter after we had left it and we had no sooner crossed a slight rise which finally hid it from our view than we caught sight of the Carvan Saris of Shemsh which however it took us nearly three hours more to reach. A more dismal spot than Shemsh it would be hard to imagine. There is nothing but the aforesaid Carvan Saris and a post house singularly good like all the post houses between Yazd and Kermon standing side by side in the sandy salt strewn plain. As I rode up to the latter edifice I saw a little stream very clear and sparkling carefully banged up between mud walls which conducted it into a small pound. Being overcome with thirst I flunked myself from my horse and dipped my face into it to get a long drought of what I had supposed to be pure fresh water. To my disappointment it proved to be almost as salt as the sea. There was no other water to be had and Haji Safar had thrown away what was left from Kermon Shahan nor did my hope that boiling might improve it and that a descent cup of tea might at least be obtainable prove well founded. No one who has not tried it can imagine how nasty a beverage's tea made in a cup of teapot with brackish water. Luckily my kind Zoroastrian friends had forced me to accept two bottles of beer from them as I was leaving Yazd and these in that thirsty wilderness were as the very elixir of life. Even so the day was a horrible one and seemed almost interminable. Swarms of flies distanced, thunder and the violent gusty wind increased my despondency and the only discovery in which a visit to a neighboring mud ruin resulted was a large and very venomous looking serpent. Altogether I was heartily glad to leave this detestable place about four and a half hours after sunset by the light of a radiant moon. The monotony of the march to the next stage Anar was only twice broken. First by meeting a string of 25 camels going up to Yazd whose drivers greeted us with a usual Forsatboschet made be a purchune and secondly by the appearance of some wild beast which was prowling about by the road but which on our approach slunk off into the desert. About dawn we arrived at Anar a flourishing village containing a good many gardens and surrounded by fields in which men were busy reaping the core. Here we alighted at the post house to rest and refresh ourselves before continuing our march to the next stage by us which we reached without incident a little before sundown. By us is a small hamlet containing a few trees and not devoid of signs of cultivation. Three or four camels were resting and taking their food in a field opposite the post house where I alighted in preference to the large but dilapidated carvan sari. Soon after our arrival a party of mounted olams rode up and bevewacked outside under the trees. One of these as Hajisafar informed me was anxious to challenge my horse. This practice called Ma'azzeb Boston I was surprised to find amongst the persons as I had either to only met with it in the pages of Mr. Sponger's sporting tour. For those not familiar with that entertaining work I may explain how the transaction would have been conducted if I had given my consent which needless to say I did not do. The olam who had challenged my horse suggested that the postmaster Naib Chapar should act as umpire between the two animals and to this Hajisafar acting as he chose to consider as my representative agreed. Hajisafar then informed the Naib Chapar that I had bought my horse for 32 months as a matter of fact it had only cost me 16 two months. But the latter valued it still higher at 35 two months. However he valued the olams horse at 42 months it was probably worth 12 at the outside so that the award was that my horse should give the olams horse five two months or in other words that I should give the olam my horse and five two months in money for his horse. We left by us about four hours before sunset and continued our south easterly march along the track so ill-defined that I felt impelled to make a wide detour towards the telegraph posts which lay some distance to the east and the expectation of finding something more like a high road. As dusk drew on the whole character of the country began to change. Revealists and streams intersected it in every direction. The air grew moist and damp like that of a fan and the night re-accode with a shrill chirping of grass hoppers and the horse croaking of frogs. Once we lost our way amongst the ditches and cornfields and floundered about for some time in the dark air rather by good luck than good management we again struck the road. Flickering lights in the distance probably below the wisps kept our hopes of speedy arrival alive but it was only after repeated disappointments that a welcome outline of the post house of kushku loomed out like some moted grange through the darkness. We had to wake the postmaster ear we could gain admission and no sooner was my bed spread in the porch of the balakhane or upper chamber than I fell sound asleep lulled by a chorus of frogs and grasshoppers till suppertime after which I again composed myself for slumber. When Haji Safar brought me my tea next morning he informed me that the Militiae Zainul Abedin had decided to remain at kushku to rest his beasts after they forced marches of the last day or two till sundown so as to accomplish the seven long parasongs which separated us from the considerable town of Bahramabad the capital of the district known as Rafsanjan during the night. I was not sorry for the rest and though much pestered by flies passed a tolerably comfortable day in the little post house. We started by starlight about three hours after sunset but in about an hour the moon rose up to light us on our way. The night was quite chilly and the march very tedious and even when soon after dawn we sighted Bahramabad a very length of willfully sinuous and serpentine road remained to be traversed here we finally alighted at the post house. At Bahramabad I had a letter of introduction from Haji Sayed to the chief of the post in that district which after lunch I caused to be conveyed to him. He came to visit me without delay and after sitting for a short time carried me off to his office in the Carvan Sarri. While I was there several persons came to see him amongst them a fine looking young Khan of Rafsanjan who had just returned from Seerjan by way of Paris and Gaudi Ahmar. He had with him the body of an enormous lizard bozma je which he had shot on the road. About three hours before sunset my host took me to his house and gave me tea after which I was waited upon successively by deputations of Zoroastrians and Hindus both of which classes regard an English man as their natural friend and ally. The Zoroastrians were only three in number one of them was Ardeshir Mehraban's agent and of the other two one was an old man called Mehraban and the other a young man named Ardeshir. They told me that there were in all about twenty or twenty five Zoroastrians in Bahramabad that their co-religionists in Kerman were much less subject to insult and annoyance and in all ways better off than those in Yazd and that the chief products of Rafsanjan were besides cereals, almonds and pistachion nuts which were exported to India. After the departure of the Zoroastrians the whole Hindu community saved one who was ill waited upon me. There were fourteen of them men and youths all natives of Shakarpur and they brought me as a present and enormous block of sugar candy. One of them had recently been robbed of a large sum of money and as the Persian governor could not succeed in capturing the thief and would not make good the loss he begged me to make a representation of the fact to the English embassy at Tehran. I promised to come and inspect the scene of the outrage if I had time without further committing myself and shortly afterwards the deputation withdrew. I remained to supper with the postmaster who made me eat to repletion of his excellent polo washed down with a delicious sharbat and strove to persuade me to stay the night with him but I excused myself on the ground that the military would probably wish to start. However on arriving at the Chopar Khaane whether he insisted on accompanying me I found that as a moral Ramazan the 21st was the anniversary of the Imam Ali's death and consequently an unlucky day neither Hajji Safar nor the military wished to continue the march till the following evening. End of section 34