Something in an account of Persian life must be said of Persian cats. The fact is, that long-haired cats are very seldom seen; the usual cat is similar to the regular London cat of the leanest variety, and the village cat resembles most the half-starved beasts found in empty houses. Long-haired cats are generally only seen in the houses of the rich, and they are eagerly purchased for ten to fifteen shillings, when good specimens and white, by the horse-dealers, who take them to India in cages; they there find a ready market for them.

The best cats are Van cats, which are not really Persian; these, if well bred, are deaf, and also have eyes of different colours—a pink and a yellow eye, or a blue on one side and yellow on the other. They will not catch mice, show no affection whatever, their hair sticks to everything in spring, and they are in every way objectionable. A few long-haired cats are ash-coloured—these are rare. I saw one belonging to the wife of the late Major Pierson. While Pierson and I looked on, we saw this cat, which was a male, fight with and kill another cat upon the roof. But the cat was tame and almost affectionate to his mistress. The fact is, if you want a Persian cat of the finest kind, you can best get one in Paris, at any of the numerous bird-shops on the quays.

Dogs are not kept as pets by Persians, though they are used for hunting and as sheep-dogs. The greyhound is an exception; the Persians will pet and fondle these animals, and even pay a long price for one. They are of two kinds, the Arab dog, similar in all respects to a small English greyhound, but deficient in bottom: the Persian dog, with longer hair and feathered ears, feet, and tail, with immense bottom, but deficient in speed: these are often crossed with each other. The ears, feet, and tail of the Persian variety are often dyed magenta or yellow, and a sufficiently ludicrous appearance is the result. The “tazzies,” or greyhounds, are not looked upon as unclean, and the term of sag or “cur-dog” is never applied to them. The “toolah” is any kind of dog that is not exactly a pariah, and is much affected by sporting Persians, who attempt to hunt game with him; he is never of any use, and generally is only kept as swelling his master’s importance. These “toolahs” remind me of a curious definition I once heard from a well-known dog-fancier, now dead.

Years ago I, with many other of my fellow-students, used to keep bull-dogs and terriers; it was a common foible enough in those days. My landlady, of course, would not permit a dog of apparently ferocious breed to be kept on her premises, so I boarded my dog with a dog-fancier. This man constantly used the term “tyke” when he wished to speak disparagingly of an animal. I asked him what the word “tyke” really meant: and his definition of a “tyke” comprehends the Persian “toolah.” “A tyke,” he replied, “is a dawg as ain’t no sort of breed, and ain’t no sort of use!” What a number of tykes we see in England, and why do people keep and pay tax on them?

Watch-dogs are kept and kindly treated; they are let loose on the roof at nights. The wandering tribes have some fine dogs—short-haired, tawny, with black muzzles, having all the characters of mastiffs; they are very fierce, and it is difficult to obtain them. Near Hamadan, and also at times near Ispahan, are found big sheep-dogs, of no particular breed, generally long-haired and tawny with black muzzles. These are a match for wolves, and are often savage; of this kind was our big dog “Jarge.”

Monkeys and baboons are kept and trained by the lutis, or professional buffoons, as are bears, and even lions. It is usual when the wife of a man of any substance brings him a son, that these men should bring the lion, with song and music, to the house. The delighted lady invariably gives a present. Should there be any disinclination to give it, the buffoons threaten to loose the lion, which generally has the desired result: if this be ineffectual they carry out the programme, and themselves simulate terror.

LION AND LUHLIS.

They brought the lion to me in Shiraz, and played me the trick of loosing him in my courtyard.