I have often wondered whether something connected with the old fire-worshippers' superstition has a lurking-place in the minds of the Persians or Kurds. Day after day, and at the same hour, I have seen the entire inhabitants of a village turn out and gaze intently upon the great orb of light slowly sinking into space on the distant horizon. I have questioned them about this subject. They indignantly repudiate the idea of any act of worship to the sun; they say that they do so because it is their habit, and because their fathers, grandfathers, and ancestors did the same thing before them.
We rode by many gardens surrounded by high walls; some of these enclosures were five or six acres in extent. Cherry, apple, peach, and mulberry trees abound throughout the district; A plentiful water-supply, which is brought from the mountains by means of artificial dykes, irrigates the various orchards. Little trenches intersect each other at many places along the fields, and when the proprietor wishes, he can at once place his land under water. This must be an inestimable boon to the inhabitants during the hot months, as otherwise their entire crop would be destroyed by the heat.
Soldiers dressed in a dirty sort of French uniform, but with black sheepskin hats of the extinguisher shape, sat outside the guard-houses in the different villages. They looked askantly at the Usebashe as he passed—for the Usebashe was in uniform. A wonderful sort of blue cape covered the upper part of his person, and red knickerbockers, stuffed in high boots, his extremities. A curved scimitar hung from his waist-belt. The red fez on his head, and on our guide's, showed their allegiance to the Sultan.
The two men clad in European costumes were also a source of wonder to the soldiers. Some of them gripped the flint fire-locks with which they were armed, and made a movement as if they would like to have had a shot at our little party.
"Yes, you dogs! I have no doubt but that you would like to do so," said the old Usebashe, shaking his fist at them, after we had got to a safe distance. "However, your guns are only serviceable up to fifty yards, it takes you five minutes to load them! They are unclean ones, these Persians; do you not think so, Effendi?" continued the old Usebashe.
"I have seen so little of them I cannot judge. But, their roads and houses are much better and cleaner than those which you have in Turkey.
"That is true," said the captain sorrowfully. "The little dogs can do some things well, but they are sly and deceitful. A Persian will kiss you on one cheek, and will stab you behind your back. He will call himself your friend, and will slander you to your neighbours. He will offer you the best horse in his stable: the offer comes from his lips, and not from his heart. When you know them better, you will find this out for yourself."
CHAPTER XXIII.
No signs of Khoi—At last we arrive—The Turkish Consul—Russian intrigues—Persian soldiers have attacked a Turkish village—Kashka Beulah—A Turkish Usebashe and seven men brought prisoners to Khoi—The Ambassador at Teheran—Retaliation—The exchange of prisoners—The origin of the disturbance—The Shah's uncle—Russian agents in Teheran—Kurdish girls make the best wives—They do not care about fine clothes—How to make use of your mother-in-law—The women in your country—A fortune on dress—My last wife cost ten liras—Persian women—The Persians are very cruel—Odd customs—The fortifications of Khoi—Soldiers gambling.
Village after village were left behind us, still there were no signs of Khoi. We had been told that it was only an eight hours' march from Melhamee, two more sped by ere the walls of the city were in sight. Soon afterwards we rode through a narrow gate which gives access to the town, and presently pulled up at a house belonging to the Turkish Consul, who is the only diplomatic agent to be found in this city. He had been educated in Constantinople, and spoke a little French. For the last two years he had been established in Khoi, and he greatly bewailed his thus being cut off from all European society.