LEAVES ISPAHAN. 
59 
Sharpe, and the friendly Hadge Bachire. When I shook the 
latter by the hand with an, indeed, hearty God bless you! he said 
something of the regrets he felt when saying adieu to my 
countryman, Henry Martyn, “ whom,” added he, “ I saw no 
more !” but he hoped that our parting might be, to meet again. 
Nothing, I thought, was less probable on this side of eternity; 
but, with an answering emotion of kindliness, I echoed the wish, 
and then, most likely, bade a last farewell to this amiable Abys¬ 
sinian ; who seemed a brother in heart as well as occupation, to 
him who was “ great in authority under Candace, Queen of the 
Ethiopians.” 
August 31st, 1818. At the pleasantest time of the afternoon of 
this day, I left Ispahan through what is still called the Hama- 
dan gate, pointing to the old capital of Media; and accompanied 
by Sedak Beg with my own people, and the Ameen-a-Doulah’s 
mehmandar and escort, took a direction north 45° west, for full 
four miles amongst the ruined walls and houses of the deserted 
suburb of Gueberabad. The Zeinderood flowed on our left, in 
a bending course, at the foot of the mountains, which form a 
noble amphitheatre of successive heights around this part of the 
plain ; their rugged sides and summits contrasting sublimely with 
the rich and verdant scene below. We passed the insulated 
Attush Kou , or hill of the Fire-worshippers, but stopped a few 
minutes to observe a picturesque effect of the hour on its form 
and situation. The mouldering fragments of building on the 
top, stood bright in the declining sun ; while the hill itself verged 
down in deepening shadows to the dark heaps of ruins beneath. 
Beyond them, lay the country in a sort of mellow glow; undu¬ 
lating corn-fields, melon-grounds, vineyards, and gardens, varied 
the road, with tracts of fine grown trees, stretching their luxu- 
i 2 
