He did. The Governor was furious; when the custom-house master’s zeal touched him personally, he was really enraged; though when we had appealed to him to get perishable things given up to us, offering an indemnity, if it could be at any time proved that any duty was due, he had told us he could do nothing.
The customs-master was heavily fined, and at any time during the rest of my stay in Shiraz when I sent for my boxes, they were given up at once, and when my servant, as directed, asked if it were wished to examine them or not, the customs-master, pale with rage, would reply:
“Go, son of a burnt father, no; I have opened his boxes once, I never want to do so again.”
All this my man would gleefully narrate on triumphantly bringing home my beer, or whatever had arrived.
I had had one other transaction with this customs-master. He had a handsome colt rising three; I had long tried to buy it, but he would never sell, or demanded a preposterous price. At last he sent over one day to me saying, “What will you give me in cash for my grey colt?”
I replied, “Ninety-five tomans” (about thirty-eight pounds). This is really a very high price for a horse only rising three. To my astonishment and delight the horse was sent over. I gave a cheque for the money and tied my purchase up. The next day I was left in peace to admire him; the third day came a letter politely written, the pith of which was, “Return me my colt, I have repented.” I looked on the affair as a joke, but no; the man had not cashed my cheque. Had I paid him in specie the bargain would have been concluded; as it was he was in the right, and I reluctantly gave back the horse I had had my eye on for months.
It was the law, and by that one must abide.
A peculiarity of the Shirazi is his fondness for repeating words, changing the initial of the second. Use is second nature, and a curious instance of the habit is narrated of the late Kawam-u-Dowlet. When in the presence of the Shah, the Kawam-u-Dowlet was asked by his Majesty—
“Why is it, Kawam, that you Shirazis always talk of kabob-mabob, and so on? you always add a nonsense word; is it for euphony?”
“Oh, ‘Asylum of the Universe,’ may I be your sacrifice; no respectable person in Shiraz does so, only the lūti-pūti says it.”