HAN--SHIRAZ.

The seven telegraph-stations, in charge of Europeans, between Teheran
and Bushire, may be called the oases of Persia to the weary traveller
from Resht to the Persian Gulf. He is sure, at any of these, of a
hearty welcome, a comfortable bedroom, and a well-cooked dinner from
the good Samaritan in charge. The latter is generally the best of
company, full of anecdote and information about the country, and,
necessarily, well posted in the latest news from Europe, from the last
Parliamentary debate to the winner of the Derby. These officials are
usually _ci-devant_ non-commissioned officers of Royal Engineers. Some
are married, for the life is a lonely one, and three or four months
often elapse without personal communication with the outer world,
except on the wires. By this means, when the latter are not in
public use, the telegraphist can lighten his weary hours by animated
conversation with his colleague two or three hundred miles away on
congenial topics--the state of the weather, rate of exchange, chances
of promotion, and so on. Living, moreover, at most of the stations is
good and cheap; there is plenty of sport; and if a young unmarried man
only keeps clear of the attractions of the fair sex, he soon makes
friends among the natives. Love intrigues are dangerous in Persia.
They once led to the massacre of the whole of the Russian Legation at
Teheran.

Ispahan is a city of ruins. A Persian will tell you, with pride, that
it is nearly fifteen miles in circumference, but a third of this
consists of heaps of stones, with merely the foundation-lines around
to show that they were once palaces or more modest habitations.
Chardin the traveller, writing in A.D. 1667, gives the population of
Ispahan at considerably over a million, but it does not now exceed
fifty thousand, including the suburb of Djulfa. The Madrassa, or
College, the governor's palace, and "Chil Situn," or "Palace of the
Forty Pillars," are the only buildings that still retain some traces
of their former glory. Pertaining to the former is a dome of the most
exquisite tile-work, which, partly broken away, discloses the mud
underneath; a pair of massive gates of solid silver, beautifully
carved and embossed; a large shady and well-kept garden in the centre
of the Madrassa, with huge marble tanks of water, surrounded by an
oblong arcade of students' rooms--sixty queer little boxes about ten
feet by six, their walls covered with arabesques of grea