The townsfolk are mostly Persians; and the typical costume of the lower classes consists of rather loose trousers, with a wide-skirted tunic coming down as low as the knee and girt at the waist with a sash. Over this they usually wear a sleeveless jacket of brown frieze, and the cap is of light brown felt, shaped like half a gourd. It is practically the same dress that we see represented as Persian on the old Greek sculptures. Richer men wear a full-skirted coat of dark blue, with a cap of black astrachan.
The working women wear much the same costume as the men, except that the tunic is rather longer, and the trousers rather tighter. Also, the colour of their garments is usually dull red, while that of the men is blue or grey; and they muffle the upper part of the body in a voluminous wrapper of indigo blue. The country women, when they have finished their marketing, are accustomed to discard their trousers directly they get outside the city gate. They then pack their purchases in the legs, and march off with them on their necks like a yoke, quite unconscious of the least impropriety!
Urmi plain is a proverb for richness in Persia, and its cultivators (Christian for the most part) have an hereditary skill in their art. They grow some seven and twenty varieties of grape, and the export of raisins to Russia is a very large one. The grapes when gathered are dipped in a strong solution of lye to keep off wasps, and so exposed to dry for a fortnight on earthen floors sloping to the sun. Few things in the country are more striking than the mass of purple and golden grapes on such a floor, resembling, but far[{198}] surpassing in richness, one of the famous carpets of the land.
The Persian summer is reliable, or such a method would be impossible; for anything like a sprinkle of rain during the drying time is ruin for the crop of the year.
The frontier line between Persia and Turkey may be uncertain, but at least the customs go on; and we found the authorities in that department waiting for us where we entered the plain. Our managing servant, however, is a master of strategy in these matters; and all the loads chanced to be lagging some distance behind, save one that carried the indispensable food-box. This was removed at the order of the Government, and opened; on which the first things to appear were the tea apparatus and the medicine chest. The sight of this last reminded the official that he had fever lately; “Could the Englishman spare him a little quinine?” Of course we could; and perhaps (as our servant suggested) he might like some tea also;[109] the English sahib was sure to want some while waiting for the loads to come up. There was a stream handy, and the invaluable “primus” stove in the box; so that the customs officer and the writer were amicably having tea together under a tree when the mules arrived.
“Shall I take down the boxes?” said the wily Dinkha, smoothly.
“Wallah Effendim, this English sahib is not a merchant! Pass upon your way, and may Allah go with you.”
And so, the customs barrier was passed; for politeness seldom fails in the East.
On occasions, of course, things do not go so well. We remember the despair of an unfortunate American bride who had come out fresh to the country, with her husband, as missionaries. A dinner-set of rather good china (a wedding present) had preceded her by some weeks, and was waiting for her in her new home, where she eagerly unpacked it.[{199}]
It had been sent out to Trebizond, properly packed in hay and straw; but the officials there, being suspicious for some reason, had searched it to the very bottom—though of course without finding anything contraband. Then, to save themselves trouble, they had just stuffed the goods into the case again, without the hay packing; and as there was naturally some room to spare at the end, had thrown in some saucepans, flat-irons, and the iron weights of a lever weighing-machine, and so sent the whole on a three weeks’ journey across country. Its condition at the end of that experience may be imagined. We believe that one plate had survived; and it now adorns, in the character of a monument, the lady’s drawing-room wall!