Glimpses of Modern Persia—I 
walks. Upon entering from the street, at 
the main door in the wall, you descend at 
once from five to fifteen steps to the brick 
walk surrounding the garden, which is there¬ 
fore from five to fifteen feet below the street 
level, since a foot is 
a modest depth for a 
step in a Persian stair. 
This walk, extending 
around and across the 
garden, as shown in the 
diagram, is two feet or 
more above the ground 
proper; and out of this 
ground the beds, in 
turn, are raised, so that 
the flowers grow, in a 
way, on the summits 
of m i n i a t u r e hills. 
This impressed me, 
at first sight, as extra¬ 
ordinary. Turning out 
one morning at sunrise, 
tor a walk before the 
heat set in, I learned 
the secret. The garden 
was full of dirty water, 
to the depth of a foot 
or more, and the level 
was rapidly rising. 
The flower beds, rich 
with the first bour- 
geonings of spring, were caretullv defined 
islets in the midst of an artificial lake extend¬ 
ing all over the place. And this was the water 
supply of a Persian city. Once a fortnight, it 
seems, the kanauts or karises are tapped for 
each ward or district, and the water allowed 
to run in ditches along the dirty streets so 
dry at other times. The mirab ,—literally, 
water-boss,—goes along from house to house, 
pulls out a plug in the foundation of the 
wall and lets the water flow through a con¬ 
duit, running perhaps underneath the build¬ 
ings, down into the garden. Pipes under 
the walks permit its passage from one section 
to another. The soil takes up a part of it, 
vegetation gets its periodical supply, and the 
residue, after a rude process of filtration, 
runs into the house cisterns, where it remains 
for use. The natives drink the stuff' with 
comparatively small effort at purification ; 
and why pestilence is not perennially preva¬ 
lent, to the righteous taking-off of entire 
populations, passes all human understanding. 
The average rainfall in Persia is small, and 
cannot be depended upon ; but given the 
necessary supply of city water, and it is easy 
to induce plenteous 
growth, tor the city 
soil needs apparently 
none of the persistent 
manuring so common 
to our gardens. The 
sites of great cities do 
not change. Tabriz, for 
example, has occupied 
its present location in 
the angle of the Sahend 
Mountains for cer¬ 
tainly three thousand 
years. Back of that 
the record is misty. 
There is no pretence 
at drainage; the filth 
and refuse of century 
after century simply 
filter into the soil, 
which therefore is to 
the highest degree 
enriched. It is no 
uncommon sight to 
see, among the ruins 
in the environs of a 
Persian city, men 
sifting the earth from around fallen walls, to 
be used as a fertilizer or to fill in about the 
roots of trees where it is desired to develop 
shade. The Russians are particularly in¬ 
dustrious in pursuing this process in the 
old Persian towns which they have won by 
arms, such as Nahkitchevan and Erivan, in 
the neighborhood of Mount Ararat. I first 
saw it done near the tomb of Noah, on the 
outskirts of Nahkitchevan, and the charming 
park of young trees which has grown up in 
the center of the city is proof enough of 
what a comparatively little effort of this sort 
will, by and by, accomplish in places which 
Persia is now letting run to waste. 
Incidentally, this sifting of earth from the 
ruins is lucrative, for treasure of all sorts is 
thus discovered and the laborer sells it for 
what seems to him a fabulous price. Orna¬ 
ments, vessels, old coins of gold and silver, 
Caesarean, Alexandrian, and others telling 
FROM A TEHERAN PORTICO 
