n one's thoughts are swayed and influenced by an
appetite that the cold day and hard tugging through the hills have
rendered well-nigh uncontrollable, a prosperous-looking Persian
traveller, returning from a pilgrimage to Meshed with his wives, family,
and servitors, quite a respectable-sized retinue, emerges from the
seclusion of his quarters to see the bicycle.

Of course he requests me to ride, sending his link-boys to bring out all
the farnoozes to supplement fair Luna's coy and inefficient beams; and
after the performance, the old gentleman promises to send me round a dish
of pillau. In due time the promised pillau comes round, an ample dish,
sufficient to satisfy even my present ravenous appetite, and after this
he sends round tea, lump sugar, and a samovar. The moujik turns to and
gets up steam in the samovar, and over tiny glasses of the cheering but
non-intoxicating beverage, he sings a Russian regimental song, and his
comrade, the Tabreez Turk, warbles the praises of Stamboul. But although
they make merry over the tea, methinks both of them would have made still
merrier over something stronger, for the moujik puts in a good share of
the evening talking about vodka consumed at Shahrood, and smacking his
lips at the retrospective bliss embodied in its consumption; while the
Turk from Tabreez catches me aside and asks mysteriously if my packages
contain any "raki" (arrack). Like the Ah wan caravansarai, the one at
Gusheh seems to draw the chilly winds from every direction, and I arise
from a rude couch, made wretchedly uncomfortable by draughts, the attacks
of insects, and the persistent determination of a horse to use my
prostrate form as a rest for his nose-bag, to find myself the possessor
of a sore throat.

Persian travellers are generally up and off before daylight, and the
clicking noise (Persian curry-combs are covered with small rings that
make a rattling noise when being used) of currying horses begins as early
as three o'clock. The attendants of the old gentleman of happy
remembrance in connection with last night's pillau and samovar, have been
busy for two hours, and his taktrowan and kajauehs are already occupied
and starting, when by the first gleam of awakening dawn I mount and wheel
eastward. A shallow, unbridged stream obstructs my path but a short
distance from Gusheh, and I manage to get in knee-deep in trying to avoid
the necessity of removing my footgear; I then wander several miles off
my ro