INTERRUPTED BY THE DESOLATE INHABITANTS. 
443 
now obsequious mehmandar, Sedak Beg and myself took our 
station at the head of the little cavalcade. It was then near the 
hour of sun-set. But the lamps of unnumbered stars, without a 
cloud “ to blink their beams” were in prospect; and the dissolv¬ 
ing sultriness of the evening, I knew would give place to the 
bracing cool of the night; hence, I did not hesitate to set forth 
the first hour I found the path clear. 
In passing from the vaulted exterior galleries of the palace, 
our way lay through the ruinous quarter which had formerly 
been inhabited by the court silversmiths and jewellers ; now 
the asylum of hundreds of starving wretches ; sprung, as it were, 
like the repeated offspring of the Dragon’s teeth in heathen 
fable, from the blood of the murdered citizens, who had pe¬ 
rished under the sword of Mahmoud in these very arcades. 
Their unceasing clamours for relief, render the only avenue 
open to those who dwell within the royal walls, a passage of 
pain, increasing at every step. 
Croesus himself could hardly give satisfactory alms to all that 
apply; and there is no issue, on horseback at least, but through 
crowds of these unhappy people. Whole families, from the 
aged and crippled grandsires, to mothers with their infants at 
their breasts, surrounded us on all sides, with scarce a rag to 
hide their emaciated, and almost blackened limbs. This was, 
indeed, the worst ruin I had seen in Ispahan. And I grieve, 
as a man united to these poor creatures by a common nature, 
to add, that this was not the only spot, in the ancient pride of 
Persia , where such spectacles presented themselves. Many 
hundreds, in the same condition, hide their wretchedness 
amongst the forgotten vaults of the more remote parts of the 
desolated city; exhibiting a sad picture of what the vicissitudes 
3 l 2 
