IMAN ZADA ISMAEL. 
shades of Mayan are the first signals, after quitting the plain of 
Merdasht, that mark a traveller’s entrance on the summer route 
to Ispahan. 
At three o’clock in the morning of August 1st, we left the cara¬ 
vansary, and turned our cavalcade into a north-western direction 
through another narrow valley ; bounded on each side by craggy 
mountains, which were traversed by the most opposite and varied 
strata I had ever seen. A stream, equally clear and inviting 
with those of the Kala-Gul-Aub, flowed by our path, which lay 
under groves of wild almond, hawthorn, and mulberry-trees, 
intermixed with large bushes bearing a flower resembling 
lavender both in appearance and smell. Notwithstanding the 
vernal luxuriance of such a scene, the road itself was extremely 
desert and bad, being a continuation of rough, loose stones the 
whole way from Mayan to Iman Zada Ismael, a journey of three 
farsangs. This latter village is considered holy ground, and not 
only shows a general aspect of comfortable means, but an air of 
civilization seldom met with on this side of Ispahan. Every 
individual in the place claims his descent from Mahommed; 
hence they are all called Saieds, or sons of the prophet. A pic¬ 
turesque old caravansary nearly in ruins, and a high-domed 
building, are its most conspicuous objects. The hospitality of 
the natives seems to have rendered the former useless ; and the 
latter, which gives its name to the village, covers the holy 
relics of the Iman Zada Ismael. Of his particular history 
nothing is now remembered, but that this is his tomb ; the sane-* 
tity of which would of itself hallow the ground in its vicinity; 
therefore this spot has a double claim to reverence, being an abode 
of the living descendants of the prophet as well as of the dead. 
We were lodged in the house of one of the ten thousand 
