MODERN PERSIA AXD ITS CAPITAL 



367 



tions, even at fifty cents a mile, is worth 

 the price. 



Teheran is only seventy miles south of 

 the Caspian, but the road must climb and 

 twist for 240 miles in order to arrive 

 there. 



At the post-house your means of trans- 

 portation awaits you. You clamber gin- 

 gerly into the debris of what may have 

 been in a long- forgotten era a very ele- 

 gant and commodious coupe, but which 

 now, with your variegated assortment of 

 luggage lashed to every available projec- 

 tion, approximates more closely an itiner- 

 ant peddler's van than anything else. 



A dark-visaged bandit, whom you have 

 been regarding with suspicion, pours a 

 pail or two of water on the warping 

 wheels and axles for lubricating purposes, 

 clambers to the driver's box, leers back 

 from under his huge, pot-shaped felt hat, 

 grunts to the four gaunt ponies harnessed 

 abreast, and you clatter oft with a jangle 

 of bells along the well-built Russian road 

 to Teheran. 



Theoretically, if one travels day and 

 night, the trip requires a day and a half ; 

 actually, about twice that long. At six- 

 teen-mile intervals there are exasperating 

 delays, capable of abbreviation by the 

 judicious use of baksheesh, in the chang- 

 ing of horses and drivers, to say nothing 

 of the additional halts ivhile the driver 

 has his tea or pipe of opium at a roadside 

 tea-house or ties up a broken spring or 

 dilapidated harness with a bit of rag. 

 But, unless the whole equipage rolls over 

 a cliff while the kismet-trusting coach- 

 man takes a nap, you are almost certain 

 to turn up eventually at the walls of 

 Teheran. 



THE HOME OE THE HYRCAXIAX TIGER 



From the oppressive humidity of the 

 region of the rice-fields, the road gradu- 

 ally ascends to the shade of the deep for- 

 est belt, whose labyrinth of close-growing 

 trees and interwoven giant creepers forms 

 a dark, silent lane, with impenetrable 

 green walls, into which the carriage in- 

 trudes with its ceaseless rumble of heavy- 

 tired wheels and the constant jingle of 

 the pony bells. 



Perhaps a passing band of hunters, 

 with a freshly killed wild boar or leopard, 



serves to break the solitude and to re- 

 mind the traveler that from this very 

 jungle, which extends without a break 

 for hundreds of miles along the northern 

 slopes of the Elburz, came the fierce 

 Hyrcanian tigers used by the Roman 

 emperors for their spectacular contests 

 of the arena. 



Sometimes the road follows the Send 

 Rud, or White River, the only stream to 

 break its way through to the Caspian 

 from the plateau ; or leaves it to follow 

 the brink of a canyon. 



The abruptness of the ascent increases ; 

 the forest area is left behind ; thriving 

 vineyards, bearing luscious seedless and 

 skinless fruit, cover the hillsides ; oc- 

 casional clumps of olive trees appear, 

 and frequent groups of tattered peasants 

 stare curiously at the infidel invader in 

 the passing carriage. 



The aspect of the country now changes 

 rapidly. All signs of habitation, except 

 a few wretched dugouts, disappear, and 

 the old coach climbs heavily, over barren 

 rocks, to the bleak summit of the pass, 

 7,000 feet above the sea. 



TRAVELIXG BY THE LIGHT OF THE PERSIAX 

 MOOX 



The journey by daylight is novel, by 

 night it is weird. The dubious accommo- 

 dations at the post-houses render the ex- 

 treme night cold and the uncertainties of 

 the dark road the lesser of two evils ; 

 so perchance the traveler finds himself 

 bowling along the upper reaches of the 

 pass in the soft light of the Persian moon, 

 which smoothes the jagged outlines of 

 the surrounding crags, works fairy magic 

 with the snow patches on the neighboring- 

 peaks, and reveals the silver flood of 

 near-by dark-walled gorges. 



The night wears on and the moon slips 

 down behind a distant ridge, leaving the 

 cool, gray stars to light one on the way. 

 With only the monotonous roll of heavy 

 wheels to break the perfect stillness of 

 the night, a dreamy, drowsy feeling 

 creeps over one. when out of the dark- 

 ness and far away there comes a faint 

 suggestion of strange, uncanny music : 

 and as the night breeze freshens, it bears 

 a deep and rhythmic ringing, which 

 slowly grows in volume until the mellow 

 donging of a hundred swinging bells pro- 



