e and enlightened, the
obscure and struggling individual is usually rated 0000.

Russia--"permission refused." England--paternally--"must
not attempt;" cold, offish language this for a lone cycler to be
confronted with away up here in the northeast corner of Persia, from
representatives of the two greatest empires of the world. What is to be
done?

Mr. Gray, returning from the telegraph office later in the evening, finds
me endeavoring to unravel the Gordian knot of the situation through the
medium of a brown-study. My geographical ruminations have already
resulted in a conviction that there is no possible way to unravel it and
reach India with a bicycle; my only chance of doing so is to cut it and
abide by the consequences.

"I have just been communicating with Teheran," says Mr. Gray. "Everybody
wants to know what you propose doing."

"Tell them I am going down to Beerjand to consult with Heshmet-i-Molk,
the Ameer of Seistan, and see if it is possible to get through to Quetta
via Beerjand."

"Ever hear of Dadur?" queries Mr. Gray. "Ever hear of Dadur, the place of
which the Persians tritely say: 'Seeing that there is Dadur, why did
Allah, then, make the infernal regions?' That is somewhere in
Beloochistan. You'll find yourself slowly broiling to death on a
geographical gridiron if you attempt to reach India down that way."

"Never mind; tell them at Teheran I am going that way anyhow."

Having entered upon this decision, I bid my genial host farewell on April
7th, and mounting at the door, depart in the presence of a well-behaved
crowd of spectators. In my pocket is a general letter from the
Governor-General of Khorassan to subordinate officials of the province,
ordering them to render me any assistance I may require, and another from
a prominent person in Meshed to his friend Heshmet-i-Molk, the Ameer of
Kain and Governor of Seistan, a powerful and influential chief, with his
seat of government at Beerjand.

Couched in the sentimental language of the country, one of these letters
concludes with the touching remark: "The Sahib, of his own choice is
travelling like a dervish, with no protection but the protection of
Allah."

It is a fine bracing morning as I leave the Mecca of Khorassan behind,
and the paths leading round outside the walls and moat of the city from
gate to gate afford excellent wheeling. The Beerjand trail branches off
from the Teheran and Meshed road about a farsakh east of Shahriffabad;
f