On the arrival of Captain Chambers, our new assistant-superintendent in Ispahan, he determined to get up a pig-sticking expedition, a thing hitherto unknown in Persia.

The only man among us who had enjoyed that sport before was Captain Chambers himself, and he had brought with him from India a little armoury of spears; the shafts of these were bamboo, and the heads, keen as razors, were protected by small leather cases.

With some trouble we got one of these heads copied in the bazaar; and Captain Chambers, three of the sergeants, and I started for Ruhdesht, where we were assured we should find plenty of sport.

We took with us two subalterns’ tents—Captain Chambers and I occupied one, the other was used by the sergeants.

On our way we came to a little mosque all by itself in the open plain, some twelve miles from the town; in front of it was a large pond, on which were peacefully swimming some thousands of ducks. We supposed that they were tame, and belonged to the mosque, but on a stone being thrown among them, they all flew away, to our great surprise, showing unmistakably that they were wild ones.

After a wandering march of eleven farsakhs, we found the particular village in Ruhdesht, to which we had been recommended, for, as we found, Ruhdesht was not a village but a district.

We passed many ruins, one of which was a large mud-brick mosque in very good preservation. On the inside was a band of tile-work some twenty feet from the ground, which was four feet wide, and bore a beautiful inscription in interlaced Arabic letters a yard high—the letters were white on a blue ground; it was quite perfect, the height from the ground and its lonely position having protected it from villagers. We also saw several “mil,” or hollow columns; these appeared to have been used as watch-towers, and not as places from which the call to prayers was made, as they were frequently a long distance from the mosques.

We gladly halted, having marched continuously from two P.M. till dawn, and having gone off the track, mules, tents, and all. We took a day’s rest for the horses and to arrange operations. We found that a small river close to the village was swarming with pig, and it was in the low shrubs and jungle near the banks that the animals lived in the day, only coming out on the open plain when driven, or at night. The cover lay on each side of the river for a quarter of a mile in depth; it was very dense and full of holes. As we had provided ourselves with a “hukm,” or order, from the Governor of Ispahan, we had no difficulty in hiring sixty beaters at sixpence each, and this number was swelled by as many volunteers; as the pigs did much damage to the crops, the villagers were only too glad to assist in the hunt.

The cover was not so dense as it would be later on, it being early spring, and the bushes as yet not in leaf. Having made all the needful arrangements, Captain Chambers, as the Nestor of the party, took command of the beaters, and sent the whole of them in to beat up the river bank, while we were posted at intervals of fifty yards, with strict instructions to attack the boars only, which were carefully described to us. The beaters were accompanied by many of our servants who wished to enjoy the “tamasha” (show), and all the dogs.

While we sat anxiously watching the edge of the jungle, the beaters gradually approaching us, a pig broke cover. Regardless of the shouts of Chambers, who implored us to let him get well out on the open and so give a run, all of us raced at him; of course he re-entered the cover, and was no more seen.

Then out came a sow and seven squeakers, each about eight pounds. This was too much for our equanimity, and though we had promised to carefully obey orders, the frantic cries of Chambers of “ware sow” could not restrain us; we repeatedly charged the sow, and it was a good way of learning, for she got away untouched; all our horses were blown, and as men charged her from different directions at the same time, it was a mercy that there was no accident. Our horses, all much too fresh, now became more manageable. We really did succeed in spearing two young boars, neither of which showed any fight, being ignominiously pursued and prodded to death.

But a third and more matured animal was now put up, and we carefully allowed him to get well into the open. Here science was served, for Chambers got first spear easily by good riding; the boar turned each time he was struck, and after having been speared some seven times sat down on his haunches with two spears in him, which some of the inexperienced had let go.

The animal was evidently badly wounded, and it was a mere question of time; but though our horses would pursue him when running, none would come within striking distance now he was stationary, and he certainly did not present a very pleasing appearance; and though we rushed them at him, they swerved and shied.

One of the Persian “Gholams,” or line-guards, now asked to be allowed to cut the boar’s head off; permission was given, and the man dismounted, drew his curved sword, made a tremendous chop on the pig’s head, which did not seem to wound but revive him, breaking the short sword off at the hilt.

The animal now pursued the shrieking gholam for some distance, but a few more stabs with the spears finished him, then he was triumphantly borne away by the villagers.

The dogs caught three young pigs, and we returned to camp tired out. In the party of five there had been seven spills. I had two; on one occasion I was knocked over, horse and all, by another man coming up diagonally without warning and striking me sideways, and as he was the heavier, over we went. My second was when pursuing a pig; my horse slid down a dry ditch, and, on trying to get up the other side, rolled over me.

But no one was hurt, which is a wonder, considering that it was the first time we had carried spears, and they were all eight feet long, and sharp. As we could get no bamboo, we had had the shafts made of chenar or plane-wood; these were heavy but strong; the few made of poplar were light, but all of them broke at or near the head. I fancy that for good sport the ground should have been better; our ground was very open, but deep dry ditches to horses who do not jump are serious matters. We had a good dinner when we got home to the tents, and some tried to eat the pig’s meat, but even the young pig’s flesh was blackish, and tough as india-rubber.

Eating wild pig’s flesh, considering what they will eat, is a disgusting idea; and I quite agree with the action of Captain S— when a dead pig was sent him by the Governor of Shiraz as a present.

The pig was dragged to the door by the servants of the farrash-bashi (head carpet-spreader), a high official, and followed by a shouting mob, and a verbal message came that a pig was sent as a present. S— happened to be out, but on his return he wrote a polite note to the Governor telling him that the English did not, as he had erroneously supposed, eat wild pig, but looked on it as an unclean animal; and requesting that the person who brought it might remove it.

It was ordered to be done, but the farrash-bashi sent some Jews to drag it away. This S— would not allow, but insisted that the farrash-bashi himself should come and take it away; he had to do so, and doubtless thought it not quite so good a joke as the bringing, for the shouting crowd now laughed at him instead of with him.

We had a second day very similar to our first, fortunately no accidents and fewer spills. We then returned as we came; the greater part of the way was near the river banks, and as we were all very tired, also our horses, we were only too glad to get in by sunset.

I had now an opportunity of seeing the preparation of opium for the English and China markets.

A partner of the principal mercantile firm established in the Persian Gulf came to Ispahan to examine the branch of their business there and test the value of the trade.

The great difficulty with Persian opium is to obtain it of sufficient purity; the Persian opium is always very deficient in morphia, and upon the percentage of morphia by analysis the value of the drug is determined in London.

As opium when bought in the country has to be taken in small quantities and purchased blindfold, or rather on the opinion of judges, whose fiat is possibly influenced, the whole business is risky in the extreme. The ryot adds all sorts of abominations to the fresh opium, to increase the weight, as the pulp of apples, grape sugar, etc., and a further adulteration is generally practised by Armenian middlemen. The system generally adopted by the respectable merchant is to buy direct of the ryot, if possible; even to go so far at times, if the farmer be a substantial man, as to make him advances against his future opium crop.

Having purchased the opium, the merchant pours it into large copper pots, some of which may contain a quarter of a ton of opium. He then proceeds to the “teriak-mali,” or preparation, literally opium-rubbing. Having engaged skilled workmen headed by a “reis” or “boss,” he contracts to pay these men so much per chest, or by daily wages; and then, if the weather be cold, the semi-liquid contents of the pots are simmered over a very slow charcoal fire. The more solid portions being previously removed, when the “sherbet” or juice has become pretty thick, it is mixed again with the original more solid portion and the whole beaten up; it is, of course, frequently weighed to prevent thefts. Now commences the regular “teriak-mali;” weighed portions, from half a pound to one pound, as may be found convenient, are smeared upon thin planks with a wooden spreader or spatula.

It is first spread perpendicularly, then horizontally, just as in old days medical men used to spread a blister; it is done with great rapidity and exactness. As each plank is covered it is placed on end in the strong sun, and when sufficiently dry, scraped off for rolling into cakes. If the opium be very moist, or the sun weak, this has to be done many times.

The washings of the pots and utensils are carefully boiled down that nothing may be lost, and after many weighings and much manipulation, the opium, in theory absolutely pure, is made into pound cakes, generally the shape and appearance of a squared penny bun of large size, each weighing exactly one pound. The cakes are varnished with some of the liquor or a composition, having in the case where I was present been stamped with a seal bearing the name of the makers.

Each cake, after it is thoroughly dry, is wrapped in a sheet of clean paper, folded as a neat parcel and packed in chests. The tax on each chest is heavy, and as the duty is levied per chest and not per pound, a small profit may be made by having light cases and making them hold, by careful packing, a little more. The cases are marked, sewn up in hides, or, still better, dammered, i. e. packed in tarpaulin.

The preparation is an anxious time, as the workpeople will steal the opium if they can, and it is very portable. Opium is also made up with oil in masses for the Chinese market and in round cakes packed in poppy refuse to simulate Turkish, but this manœuvre is not adopted by the English firm, who attempt by great care in the manipulation, and by only buying of the respectable among the farmers, to prevent anything but pure Persian opium being sold under their brand.

Of course the smaller native makers try every means in their power to increase the weight by fraudulent additions—starch even has been employed—but these specimens often betray their admixture by a peculiar appearance or fracture, and defeat their object—often indeed bearing their own punishment by being unsaleable, save at a loss. At the time I saw the manufacture, Persian opium of the best quality was selling in London at sixteen shillings a pound.

Large quantities of opium are consumed in the country. Almost three-fourths of the aged, of both sexes, are in the habit of taking from half a grain upwards, three times a day. And I am unable to state that the moderate use of opium by the aged or those travelling is attended with any ill effects. Of course the abuse of opium is well known for its terrible results.

The “teriakdan,” or opium pill-box, is in as common use in Persia as the snuff-box was in England. The pills are usually about one grain in weight, and mostly contain spices to the extent of one half. But I have occasionally seen pills of five grains in weight of purest opium—indeed, one of my patients, who was an opium-eater, used to take seven such pills in the twenty-four hours!

The Prince-Governor kindly placed at my disposal the rooms in the town that had been previously occupied by Dr. Pollak, the king’s physician, as a dispensary, and I saw many patients among the very poor there; but as these rooms were over the public prison, of course no respectable people, particularly women, would come. So after some months I engaged rooms looking into the great bazaar over the door of the principal caravanserai, the caravanserai Mokhliss. Here for two tomans (eighteen shillings) a month I had three handsome rooms, a servant’s room, and a kitchen; and three times a week I saw patients. As a rule the attendance was gratuitous, though some few of the wealthier paid a fee.

A curious instance of Persian would-be smartness was shown here. A baker in the neighbourhood had suffered from cataract, and had come to me for relief. I had been happily successful, and to my satisfaction had restored sight to both eyes. For this I was rewarded with the sum of four pounds, and as the man was a thriving tradesman and well to do, I thought him the obliged party; but he regretted the four pounds.

One day, as I was sitting in the dispensary surrounded by a crowd of sick and their friends and relatives, a melancholy procession entered the room. The baker, with a rag of a different colour over each eye, and a huge white bandage round his head, was led, or rather supported, into the apartment; and on my expressing astonishment, his relatives informed me that his sight was quite gone through my unfortunate treatment; and that he had come to get his four pounds back, and any compensation for the loss of his eyes that I might be pleased to make would be thankfully accepted.

“Ah, sahib, dear sahib, I am now stone blind,” he said.

Here with extended arms he advanced to my table, and the assembled crowd shook their heads. I had some difficulty in getting him to remove his many bandages; but on looking at his eyes I saw that his vision, as I had supposed, was extremely good. I naturally was very angry, for, letting the ingratitude of the man alone, I did not care to be robbed of the credit of a cure in so public a manner. I did not take long to decide what to do. Among some antiquated instruments that had accumulated in the dispensary was a large amputating knife in a leather box. I got this box from the cupboard and placed it before me. Taking my seat, with the man on the other side of my table, I addressed him:—

“Of course, if I have deprived you of your sight, it is only fair that I should remunerate you and return you the money you have paid me.”

A beatific smile spread over his face.

“Ah, sahib, I know you are a great and generous sahib. I am sure you would not wrong a poor Mussulman. Oh, sahib, I want nothing but justice.”

“And what, my friend, do you consider justice?”

“Oh, sahib, doctor sahib, if you would refund the four pounds that I paid you, and give me, say forty pounds, even less, for my eyes, I should pray for you—yes, I and my family, we should all pray for you.”

Here the supporters and family chimed in, “Yes, yes, he has spoken well,” and the crowd of interested patients and their friends whispered approbation.

I noticed, too, that my servant seemed trying to attract my attention, and to dissuade me from a course he thought just, perhaps, but too generous.

“Yes,” said I, “this is what ought to be done, there is no denying it, in the case you describe. But”—and here I began to shout—“but what should be done to the man who comes here with a lie in his mouth? Know you, bystanders, that this man is a liar; he sees perfectly!”

Here the patient shook off his supporters, and grasped my table, turning pale.

“Ah,” I shouted, “you dog, I will enlighten your eyes,” and, opening suddenly the morocco case, I produced the huge glittering old amputating knife, and brandished it in his face. Without a word he nimbly turned and fled down my staircase, pursued by my servants, the two sentries, and the more active of my patients’ friends.

“Stop, thief!” I shouted from my open window; “stop, thief!”

This resounded along the crowded bazaar. Every idler took up the cry; every hand and every stick was turned on the flying man. In an instant he was secured, his clothes torn to rags by the seething mob in the bazaar.

I shouted to him from the open window, and sarcastically asked him if he was blind or not.

“Oh, sahib, sahib, through your kindness I see, indeed I do.”

But I was not satisfied with this, and sent him, under guard of my servant and the two sentries, to the high priest, who registered his confession of attempted imposture, and drew up a procès verbal, to which he affixed his seal. It is an ill wind that blows no one any good, and the matter was for several days the talk of the town, and increased my practice for the time.

When I say that the high priest “affixed his seal,” I may explain that sealing is always used in lieu of signing. When a Persian writes a letter, he affixes his seal by dipping his finger against the sponge-like ball of silk, that is full of Indian ink, in his inkstand, and, rubbing a small quantity upon the seal, gives a lick with his tongue to the paper to render it moist and supple, waves it in the air to get rid of excess of moisture, breathes on his seal, and presses it firmly against the paper held over the forefinger of the left hand, which acts as a pad. A very clear impression is thus produced.

Merchants and officials generally have several seals, one for familiar communications, having simply the man’s name, as “Hassan son of Houssein;” the next perhaps for sealing cheques or receipts; and a third for official documents, of larger size, with all his titles on it. He may even have several other secret or private seals. They are generally beautifully cut on agate or cornelian. Teheran produces the best seal-cutters, and the price for engraving is from one farthing to one pound a letter. Common seals are cut on brass or silver. The rich Turks of Stamboul have their seals cut in Teheran.

A curious story is told among Persians of the wisdom of a certain cazi or magistrate. The story is a well-known one. A woman was claimed by two men as wife; one a peasant, the other a mirza or scribe. The two men each swore to the truth of his claim. The woman was silent. The cazi, failing to get any corroborative evidence, ordered the woman to remain for a time with his own wives, and next day handed her over to the mirza, ordering the peasant to be severely beaten. Then the woman broke silence for the first time, and praised the just judge. The lookers-on applauded the justice of the cazi, but failed to see the grounds for the verdict.

Said the cazi: “I told her to milk a cow, and she could not. I knew then she could be no peasant’s wife. Then handing her my writing-case, I told her to put it in order. She took the little silver spoon, and replenished my inkstand with water. Only the wife of a man who could write could have done this correctly. Hence my verdict.”