ut on his visits
and finds much gratification in the admiring remarks bestowed upon the
son.

The Sartiep is an ideal Persian official, courteous and complimentary,
but never forgetful of Ali Akbar Khan; his full, round figure and sensual
Oriental face speak eloquently of mutton pillau and other fattening
dishes galore, sweetmeats, cucumbers, and melons; and deep draughts from
pleasure's intoxicating cup have not failed to leave their indelible
marks. In this particular the Sartiep is but a casually selected sample
of the well-to-do Persian official. Leaving out a few notable exceptions,
this brief description of him suffices to describe them all.

Following in the train of the Sartiep arrive more servants, bearing
dishes of kabobs, herb-seasoned pillau, and various other strange, savory
dishes, which, Mr. Gray explains, are considered great delicacies among
the upper-class Persians and are intended as a great compliment to me.

Although Mohammedans, and particularly Shiite Mohammedans, are forbidden
by their religion to indulge in alcoholic beverages, the average high
official in Persia is anything but a sanctimonious individual, and
partakes with a keen relish of the forbidden fruit in an open-secret
manner. The thin, transparent veil of abstemiousness that the Persian
noble wears in deference to the sanctimonious pretensions of the mollahs
and seyuds and the public eye at large, is cast aside altogether in the
presence of intimate friends, and particularly if that intimate friend is
a Ferenghi. Owing to their association in the telegraph-service, mine
host and the Sartiep are on the most intimate terms. The Sartiep soon
after his arrival intimates, with a humorous twinkle of the eye, that he
feels the need of a little medicine. Mr. Gray, as becomes a good
physician who knows well the constitutional requirements of his patient,
and who knows what to prescribe without even going through the
preliminary act of feeling the pulse, produces a pale-green bottle and a
tumbler and pours out a full dose of its contents for an adult.

The patient swallows it at a gulp, nibbles a piece of sweetmeat, and
strokes his stomach in token of approval.

"What was the medicine you prescribed, Gray?" "High wines," says the
physician, "95 proof alcohol; a bottle that the entomologist of the
Boundary Commission happened to leave here a year ago; it was the only
thing in the house except wine. The patient pronounces it the 'best
arrack