This had the desired effect, and as a rule one dose of the bitter drug caused the most grasping of the domestics to hesitate before applying for a second. This system I adopted during the whole time I was in the country, only giving the crystals to the European staff, and the quinine being distributed each year in ounces, where before it had been pounds. In fact, I did away with one of the sources of legitimate (?) modakel of the servants, who had traded on my innocence and simulated fever (intermittent) to obtain what was such very “portable property.”
One morning, while we were at breakfast under the “talar,” we saw a European enter the compound, and a little scene ensued that was sufficiently amusing. I must premise that in those early days of the Persian Telegraph Department, when communication was infrequent, owing to the continual destruction of the line, orders could only be conveyed by letters, which often never reached their destination.
The unknown sahib, without announcing himself, or asking if the superintendent were visible, stalked up on to the platform and thrust a paper into Pierson’s hand. On it was an order to Mr. P⸺ to proceed to Hamadan and take charge of the office there. And he (Mr. P⸺) had that moment alighted from his horse, having marched some twelve stages from Ispahan.
Pierson took the paper, read it, and said, “Well?”
The stranger replied, “I’m P⸺.”
“Have you nothing else to say?” said Pierson.
“No; I’ve come to take charge of the office here.”
Pierson now called for ink, and wrote “Mr. P⸺ will proceed at once to Shiraz, and take charge of the office there,” and signed it.
“You need not discharge your mules, and will start to-morrow. Good morning to you.”
Mr. P⸺ was equal to the occasion; he walked out of the place without a word, and he did start the next day (on his march of sixteen stages).