In the land of the lion and sun, or, modern Persia

by C. J. Wills

At last we saw four rapidly moving spots: to dash for the hills was the work of a moment. The spots on our left became galloping antelope. How we thirsted for their blood, and we raced apparently with them as to who should attain first a point half-way between us and the hills. On they came, and on we went; our horses needed no stimulus, our guns were on full cock. Pierson, who had borne too much to the left, came near them first, or rather, they came near him, for they seemed to fly. He did not raise his gun.

Now was my turn. I was, I fancy, some hundred or perhaps ninety yards from the animals, and I should have fired as they crossed me, bearing to my left, and thus had them broad-side on, but I forgot the Persian’s caution; my horse was going well, and I thought I must get nearer. I bore to my right and followed; but, alas! I found my “Senna” seemed, having made a supreme effort, to die away; the antelope were doubtless well out of range when I fired my two barrels, without effect of course.

I did not attempt to reload, but watched the prince, who with loud cries had kept well to the right, fire first one barrel and then the other; at the second discharge the third antelope swerved, but kept on his course, and the animals were soon out of sight, Abu Seif Khan tearing after them in hot pursuit, loading as he went. Pierson now galloped up, and we cantered after the prince, although we were doubtful if his eager pursuit was aught but mere bounce. But, no; after a smart canter of about two miles, we saw the Persian stop behind a low sandhill, dismount, look carefully to his gun, ramming down his charge again for precaution’s sake, and flinging off his huge, loose riding-boots and his heavy coat, he commenced climbing the mound, crouching as he went. He had previously by a gesture warned us to remain where we were.

As soon as he reached the top of the mound he fired and disappeared on the other side. We cantered up, and found him cutting the throat of a fine buck ahū (antelope). He now set to in a sportsman-like manner to disembowel the animal, and it was soon slung en croupe on his horse.

It appeared that his first shot was unsuccessful, but the second had injured the fore-leg of one of the herd. As he instantly followed, he noticed that one lagged a little behind, and that four passed behind the sandhill but only three reappeared. The sequel we had seen.

The sun was now high, and it was close on eight; we marched slowly back to the village and breakfasted on antelope kabobs; that is to say, small lumps of meat of the size of a half walnut skewered in the usual manner—of a piece of meat, a shred of onion, a piece of liver, a shred of onion, a piece of kidney, and so on; they were impaled on a long skewer and turned rapidly over a fierce fire of wood-ashes until cooked; and very tender they were.

The Persians always cook an animal before it is yet cold, and thus ensure tenderness, otherwise antelope-meat must hang ten days to be eatable, for we do not boil venison as they do in Persia.

We started from the village at midnight, and marched till nine A.M., arriving at a large village by a river, called Mahrand, thirty miles from Hamadan, the owner of which, Mahommed Houssein Khan, Mahrandi, had invited us to visit him for a few days; we were to hunt the antelope and have some quail-shooting. Our host, a great friend of Pierson’s, was an enormous man of great wealth, whose life was a harmless one, passed generally in his own village, and he was liked by his acquaintances, and adored by his ryots (villagers). Simple-minded in the extreme, he had, save a fondness for the bottle—a fault common with the wealthy in Persia—no vices such as are usual in the Persians of towns.

We stayed with him four days; the first morning some fifty horses were paraded for our inspection, for our host bred very fine animals, and among other taxes had to find yearly three fine beasts fit for the royal stables. As we sat at a window just raised from the ground, the entire string were led or ridden past us; but as the clothing was on, one could not see much of them.

This clothing consists of a perhan (shirt) of fine woollen blanketing, which envelops the whole body of the animal, being crossed over the chest, but all above the withers is bare. Over this is the jūl, or day clothing; this the horse wears summer and winter, save during the midday time in summer, when he is either naked or has only the perhan on. The jūl is of the same shape as the perhan, but is of coarser texture and lined with felt. Over the jūl is the nammad,[13] or outer felt.