We passed by an open window, and, on looking in, I found that the building was used as a school. A master was seated on the window-sill, fifty or more children were clustered round his feet. He was teaching them pieces of the Koran, which the little ones were endeavouring to learn by heart. A class of lads, averaging, I should say, from fifteen to twenty years of age, were squatting in a corner occupied in learning how to write—a very rare accomplishment in Persia, and principally confined to the merchant classes. Some of the lads had escaped for a moment from the vigilance of their master, and were buying oranges from a pedlar. The fruit had been brought from Tabriz, as there are no orange-trees in the neighbourhood of Khoi. Suddenly the Hodja discovered their absence; he ran outside the school. He did not confine his blows to the lads, but allowed the pedlar to share them with his pupils.
We arrived at some pillaff shops; here legs and wings of chickens, surrounded by piles of rice, were placed before the merchants. One of them, taking a piece of meat in his fingers from a plate, handed it to me. He wanted my opinion of his wares.
"Good!" I said.
"Have you pillaff in your country?" he inquired.
"Yes."
"But not like my pillaff?"
"No, not so good."
This greatly delighted the trader: running out of his shop, he insisted that I should return with him and taste his sweetmeats. These last were some of them very well made and had been manufactured with a considerable amount of skill—a trade going on in bon-bons between Khoi and other towns in the interior. The Persian ladies are very fond of sweetmeats, a large quantity of these delicacies being consumed in the different harems.
I wanted to buy some article of native manufacture in silver. It was impossible; the jewellers kept nothing by them ready made; they could have executed an order, but this would have been a tedious affair. After having visited the mosque in the town—a building which was rather more lofty than the Turkish mosques, but in other respects very similar—I began to think that it was time for me to continue my journey to Van.
It was very warm here, but the route from Van to Kars would be covered with snow, and I had only two months left of my leave of absence to complete the journey to England. The Consul pressed me to stay another day in his house. However, we had commenced making our preparations, and I was the more eager to leave the town as I had been given to understand that my arrival had caused great uneasiness to the Russian officials in Erivan. From their being so close to Khoi they have begun to look upon this town as their own territory.