PERSIAN CARAVAN SKETCHES 



437 



through safely, but were startled to learn 

 later that the driver of the car following 

 was shot through the head and his com- 

 panion badly wounded. So that, when 

 returning (after crossing the Caspian on 

 that precipitous invasion and retreat from 

 Russia), we were sent in a convoy with 

 an armed Indian escort. 



Turning to the map (page 418), you 

 will see that we have followed the British 

 military road from Bagdad to the Cas- 

 pian. 



We now returned to Kazvin, where I 

 shall let the two color plates (VI and XI) 

 describe for me the tiled gateway by 

 which we reentered the city and one of 

 the mosques, which seemed to me the 

 most beautiful of northern Persia. 



A day's run, still by the inevitable 

 Ford, brought us to the capital, Teheran. 



PORTENTS OF PERSIA'S REBIRTH 



We threaded the intrigues of Teheran 

 and its spacious avenues, lined with chi- 

 nar trees and embassies, for a week. 



Visits to the Shah's gorgeous palaces, 

 tea with ex-potentates, now plotting 

 against the weak government ; discus- 

 sions with the enlightened Persian official 

 in charge of the suppression of the 

 opium trade ; a trip through the institu- 

 tion for training Persians to make per- 

 manent rug dyes and replace the cheap 

 German aniline materials ; dinner with 

 the editor of the leading radical news- 

 paper, whose revolutionary father was 

 not long ago assassinated ; inspection of 

 the big American Mission school — all 

 these I skip, though here one could see 

 new blood coursing through Persia's 

 atrophied veins, and hope became convic- 

 tion in the eventual rebirth of the nation. 



These I pass, as they look to the fu- 

 ture, while I am describing the present. 

 So I hasten to the more interesting parts 

 of our trip, from Teheran to Ispahan by 

 mail stage, and from that great city to the 

 Persian Gulf by mule caravan. 



What of those roving brigands we were 

 to encounter? It was now a month since 

 we left Bagdad. The authorities at Te- 

 heran announced that the robber band 

 was being surrounded ; that only if we 

 hurried would we get there in time to 

 participate in the last of the fighting. We 

 were, let it be whispered, approaching the 



fray from behind the robbers, and, 

 though some Americans may imagine 

 themselves capable of handling ten ene- 

 mies each, we were doubtful of the results 

 if two opposed two thousand blood- 

 thirsty fugitive brigands. Alas, history 

 never will know ! But more of this anon. 



THE PERSIAN GOVERNMENT'S LIMITED 

 MAIL EXPRESS 



Anxious to cover the 300 miles to Is- 

 pahan as rapidly as possible, we decided 

 to take passage by the Persian Govern- 

 ment mail stage, the one regular link, 

 aside from the telegraph line, between the 

 capital and the great cities of central and 

 southern Persia. It is analogous, one 

 might well say, to a Washington-Chicago 

 Limited, provided but two trains ran a 

 week, consisting of one combined sleeper, 

 Pullman, day coach, dining and mail car, 

 the size thereof equaling that of a single 

 hay wagon (see illustration, page 432). 

 The following is a faithful portraiture 

 and strictly not a caricature; in truth, I 

 write feelingly of this rnemory: 



An old, uncovered, springless hay 

 wagon, with big, creaking, five - foot 

 wheels in back and smaller ones in 

 front; four horses, all abreast, that were 

 changed at each road-house, located at 

 intervals of ten or twelve miles ; eleven 

 Persians besides us (one more could have 

 been embraced had there been a com- 

 munal lap) rocking about on top, hanging 

 on for dear life, as we swayed down a 

 ditch or jolted over a rock; baggage and 

 mail bags beneath us — billet-doux even 

 can become callous when pounded upon 

 continuously; alternately half frozen at 

 night or blistering in the sun, as the hours 

 slowly bumped by, for one drove at a 

 trot along the ill-fashioned road across 

 the uneven prairie, in the night carrying 

 no other light than the consciousness of 

 the stars. 



Every stone in creation seemed to be 

 strewn in the way during the first night 

 ride ; sleep was out of the question. At 

 last it began to get light, and two peaks, 

 largely covered with snow, loomed out of 

 the east, gray sentinels in the cold of the 

 early dawn. 



As the sun rose a stop was made to 

 change horses at a lone roadside inn on 

 a desolate slope sweeping back to the 



