'Notes of a journey from Kasreen to Hamadan across the Karaghan country. By J. D. Rees' [‎12v] (29/54)

16
NOTES OF A JOURNEY
learnt, however, that he had been a disobedient son, this aged
Khan, disinherited by his father and not deposed by the Shah.
He spoke as if his misfortunes had been of yesterday, and from
his sad appearance I can well believe that they had been ever
present in his mind. He asked for my boots, but as I had only
one pair I could not give them up. This was not the request of
poverty, though he was poor enough. The porpoise hide and
thick soles attracted him. Suddenly an idea struck me. I had
in my saddle-bags one little tin of sweet biscuits given me at
Teheran. It was opened with a sharp stone, and biscuit by
biscuit, for greater politeness, handed by me to the Khan and his
sons. They were much liked. Colonel Burnaby recommended
Cockle’s pills for Turkey : I humbly suggest sweet biscuits for
Persia
When I was packing my saddle-bags to move on, the Khan
made a request. He wanted the biscuit tin. Then we walked
up the garden, and reached the low monolith door of egress, he
holding one of my hands in one of his, and the empty biscuit tin
in the other. A t the door X stood aside to let the old man pass
through first. His sons and the villagers stood in rows on either
side. It was an impromptu patriarchal function. As he stooped
with difficulty to pass through the low doorway, it was impossible
not to admire the simple dignity which was not impaired by
association with an empty biscuit tin. I protest, in spite of the
humour of it, I entirely shared in the obvious respect and com
passion of his few poor retainers.
To this mountain of Xtamand come mysterious dervishes or
fakirs from Hindustan. They take out bread and the coarse hill
cheese, and stay out in the mountains for perhaps a week, perhaps
a fortnight, perhaps a longer time, till they find the herbs they
want, when they are off again. The Khan assured me they have
been known to compass wonderful cures. That men answering
the description given do come for herbs, of the properties or
supposed properties of which others are ignorant, I see no reason
to doubt. Indeed I think these mysterious persons cannot be
satisfactorily disposed of, as they often are, by the lightly made
assertion, that they are gross impostors and no more.
Hence it is nearly a parasang through stony barren hills to
Eazzak, a poor village, possessed of a little unirrigated wheat.
Beyond this an event happened. I met another traveller- a
Seyyad collecting his tithes. He was entitled, he said, just at
this time, to a certain quantity of milk or its value and a certain
number of fleeces or their value. He lived at Kulanjeen, where
I was to sleep, but would offer me no advice or help as to a night's