Behind the town of Shiraz, under the hills, lies the Bagh-i-Takht, or “throne garden.” In addition to its large size, it is remarkable for a peculiar building on terraces, once very magnificent. These terraces are faced by a wall of glazed tiles, white, blue, black, and yellow. Placed behind a tank so large as to be almost a lake, this curious construction is reflected in the water, and presents a sufficiently strange appearance. On some of the terraces are rows of orange-trees, and on others a succession of fountains; these, alas! play no more. The terraces are very narrow, and do not at first strike the eye as such, and appear a many-coloured wall with rows of trees, apparently growing out of it, and the whole crowned by a lofty building, having more large trees within its walls, and then the sky; the reflection of this and its consequent doubling forms a very striking, if rococo, picture. At either side is a lofty summer-house of several stories, and at the further corners of the tank are low towers, which serve as points of vantage from which the curious view can be admired.

The whole is more like a representation made upon screens of canvas than a solid structure, and it looks like the pictures exhibited at the Surrey Gardens in old days, from which the beholders were delighted with the fireworks and siege of Badajos, or the storming of Chusan. The place is indeed often used for the display of fireworks, and a really grand effect is obtained, of course doubled by the reflection in the water.

To the right of this garden lies the Jews’ burial-ground, marked merely by a few small flat stones with Hebrew characters on them. The grass and weeds grow luxuriantly, and one has almost to search for the place, but it is a large and ancient graveyard.

Behind the garden, on the surface of the hill, is the place used by the Christians as a cemetery. Here lie Captain Chambers and Mr. H. V. Walton, the maid-servant of the latter, and several children of the staff; also some Armenians. The place, like the Jews’ burial-ground, lay open, on the face of the hill, unremarked and unvisited; but unfortunately a subscription was raised, and a huge mud wall with four towers was erected, also a small doorway and a stone door. Then followed what was certain to take place—the graves were desecrated by the Persians; every little tombstone and memorial was broken into pieces; even the bricks were torn from the bricked graves and flung about, and the Christian burial-ground became the favourite drinking-place of the loafers of the town. Away from all habitation as it was, and surrounded by a high wall, it was a place of security for the holding of the drunken revels of the worst of the rabble; and this was all caused by the unfortunate wall. In this ground also lies Sergeant Collins, who was murdered about fourteen miles from Shiraz, while I was in the place.

Sergeant Collins was one of the inspectors of the line, and of great personal bravery. He was an old soldier of the best type, rough, but honest and thorough, and ever doing his duty. He had had a hard life as a sapper, having been through the China war, and had nearly completed his service for pension. Sergeant Collins was upon the road, accompanied by his wife, with two servants, a man and woman, and a muleteer and his boy. The country was disturbed, and he should doubtless have been accompanied by a guard, but this precaution was not taken.

The sergeant, who was weak and ill at the time, was lying upon the bedding thrown on a baggage-mule, being too weak, from a recent attack of fever and ague, to sit his horse. His muleteer suddenly shouted to him, “Sahib, they have blocked the road.” Collins sat up on his mule and saw some men in front of him covering him with their guns. These commanded him to get down; the only reply that he made was to tell them to be off, and to fire his revolver twice at them. It appeared that the second shot slightly wounded one of the men. The thieves now rushed in, firing as they came; more thieves closed in from behind and also fired. Collins was hit in two places, and death must have been instantaneous, as a post-mortem examination I made two days after, when the body was brought in, showed that one bullet passed into the brain, and another fired from behind entered the chest. He fell at once, and the ruffians rushed in and beat the body with their iron-headed bludgeons, breaking one arm. They then blindfolded his Armenian wife and his two servants, and carried them some distance off the road, where they detained them till after midnight. The dead body was also dragged off the road itself. Some time elapsed ere the murderers could be brought to justice.

Five of these came to a dismal ending. One died in some weeks from a gunshot wound; it was said that this was from one of the shots fired by Collins. One committed suicide when the Persian authorities had made the pursuit very hot. This is a most unusual thing in the East. Three others were after considerable trouble arrested, and thrown into the jail at Shiraz.

Mirza Hassan Ali Khan, C.S.I., then British Agent at Shiraz, had to bring considerable pressure on the Persian authorities to get justice done, but was at last successful. Of course there was no moral doubt as to the guilt of the three murderers, but to bring it home to them definitely was no easy matter. To cause the men to be executed was simple enough; the Governor of the town would have been quite pleased to oblige in such a trifling matter; but no example would be made, and the men would be looked on as martyrs, who had suffered from pressure brought by the English Minister at Teheran. In a civilised country these men would doubtless have escaped, but in Persia, justice, though at times very blind, is never slow, unless her palm is greased. Great dissatisfaction was felt among us all that these men should be allowed to escape, yet there seemed no way of bringing the matter home to them. At last artifice was used by the Governor. I was not present, but substantially what took place was the following, and my informant was well posted, and said he saw it all. The three men being brought into the Governor’s presence, he smilingly asked them how they liked prison. Of course they immediately began to assert their innocence, and to call heaven to witness it. “Ah, my friends,” said the Governor, “I, too, am a Mussulman. We are all Mussulmans here—an unbeliever more or less does not much matter. I shall not really punish but reward you. That you killed the Feringhi there is no doubt; I must punish you nominally. I shall cut off a joint from a finger of each of you; but your dresses of honour are ready. Clothed with these you will be immediately liberated; and now, my children, tell me all about it; how did you manage it, eh?” The astonished and delighted prisoners fell into the trap, and vied with each other in giving the details. “The European fired twice from one pistol—may we be your sacrifice—and we all fired at once, rushing in on him. He was but a European. We trust in the clemency of your Highness—may we be your sacrifice,” etc. The Governor had now succeeded in bringing the murder home to the three men. From this they did not deny it, but gloried in the fact, gloating over the details. In a few moments they were taken into the public square and their throats cut.

A red granite tablet was subscribed for by the engineer officers and non-commissioned officers in Persia, and placed in the Armenian church at Shiraz, to commemorate the death of Sergeant Collins while gallantly defending his life against long odds. Probably had he not been weak and ill at the time the result might have been widely different, for he was pluck personified, and a dead shot with gun or pistol, and he had both.

Subsequently we lost another of the sergeants, who was shot in the Ispahan section, but as he was almost insane at the time, and his assailant was unaware of his derangement, there is nothing to be said but that it was a misfortune. It says much for the Persians and also for the staff, that these were the only two deaths by violence that occurred in a period of seventeen years. Although nearly all of the staff were much on horseback during the whole of this time, no accidents occurred worthy to be called so. And the general health has been remarkably good.

Fever and ague, and at times dysentery, have been common, but otherwise the health of the staff has been wonderfully good; far better, in fact, than it would have been in Europe, for the mortality has been very low indeed. A peculiar immunity from the attacks of intermittent fever, to which we were nearly all subject, was seen in the cases of European females, who seldom suffered from it. But the climate was not favourable to young children, who were much affected by the sun, against which sufficient precaution was rarely taken.

The ordinary run of Persians make very smart servants, and, unlike the Indians, they are ready to turn their hands to anything; their strong points are their power of bearing fatigue, their capabilities as cooks under adverse circumstances, and their honesty as to the property of their masters. As in other countries, the fewer they are the more work they do. The native mode of cookery is extravagant, and possibly a little greasy, but it is very varied. Rice is the basis of at least three-fourths of the dishes, and as this seldom exceeds a penny a pound, a little money goes a long way. Pillaw, or rice boiled and served with clarified butter and containing lamb, mutton, venison, fowl, or partridge; seasoned with herbs, spices, orange-peel, raisins, pomegranate juice, plums, or unripe grapes, form a curious variety; while chilaw, or rice plain boiled, and served with the various kūrusht, or entrées, consisting of much-flavoured plats as “ghari” (curry), boiled lamb, or mutton, or fowl, or partridge; with sauces of pomegranates, unripe grapes, plums, young almonds, apricots, or lemon-juice; and the concentrated gravy covered with a layer of melted fresh butter, form another section. All kinds of meats are also served roast.

Then there are the varieties of Dolma; these consist of meat finely minced with raisins, almonds, spices, and rice, and packed in a case of boiled cucumber, or marrow, or tomato; and served hot with some rich sauce or gravy.

Then come stews or ragouts in infinite variety. Then meat balls or cakes fried or served in pillaws with pungent vegetables, as the nohl-kohl, forming the Kalam pillaw.

All English vegetables are found except the parsnip.

There are numerous dishes with eggs for a basis; fried sweetmeats and baked ones whose names are legion; petits pâtés, or “boorak,” containing highly-flavoured mincemeat; and confections, jams, and sweetmeats without end. Delicious but cloying, these dishes give a wonderful choice, and they are very ornamental.

The different pillaws are fragrant steaming heaps of rice of varied colours, from pure white to the bright green of the Schevid, and the yellow of the orange, and the parti-colour of the Palangi pillaw, whose red and yellow steaming pile delights the Shirazi.

But the real triumph of the Persian cook is in his kabob. No eater of juicy steaks, no consumer of mutton-chops done to a turn in famed coffee-houses off silver gridirons, can in the wildest flight of fancy approach the idea of the succulence of the kabob. Tenderness and digestibility here approach their highest pitch, and the acme of roasts is reached.

Small pieces of lamb-meat are cut from the little lamb of six weeks old, either fresh slaughtered or well hung, both being equally tender; these are thrust upon a flat sharp skewer previously rubbed with an onion, with a tiny piece of the delicate tail fat between each; the skewers are rapidly rotated over a fierce charcoal fire until the kabobs are browned; then, still smoking, they are placed before the diner and eaten with bread and salt. This is the real kabob, it is the king of viands, and above praise. It can be obtained at any time, and only requires a lamb, a fire, and a skewer.

Numerous modes of painting the lily are in use amongst the Persians. The meat is sauced with lemon-juice and onions overnight, or dusted with pounded figs, or dipped in lemon-juice and saffron, or packed in ice to produce a certain crispness.

The bazaar-kabob is simply a paste of chopped meat, very finely divided and flavoured with onions; this is pasted over the flat skewers, toasted, placed on a hot flap of bread, the skewers withdrawn, and the whole eaten with mint, sorrel, or cresses and salt.

A fair road cook, when posting, will give his master a dinner of three or four courses, and on the march the meals are little inferior in variety and goodness to those served at the home. Most of the cooks in good European employ can cook an ordinary English dinner; my own man had some two hundred receipts from Acton’s book, and used to give us all the usual English viands as well as Persian dishes.

Persian confectionery has attained a high pitch of excellence, everything being pretty to the eye; but they have little idea beyond the flavour of lemon-juice, so that most of their efforts are sickly sweet. Toffee (“sowan”) is well made and like our own. Their ices and sherbets (syrups in iced water) are excellent. Jams are numerous and good; conserves of melon and cucumber, also citron, are made. Dried fruits are abundant; cherries, apricots, peaches, apples. Pickles are made in all the varieties, similar to English ones, but in addition grapes, oranges, apples, lemons, aubergines, chillies (green), and tomatoes are common pickles.

Dried and salted fish are much used, but fresh-water fish are little valued, except the salmon and the trout.

Dried prawns and shrimps are carried all over the country from the Persian Gulf.

Dates are the staple in the south of Persia, and form a large portion of the food of the poor all over the country. Fresh and preserved dates are a dessert luxury. Melons, pumpkins, water-melons, are much consumed, while all the common English fruits, save the gooseberry, currant, and medlar, are cheap and within the reach of all; as are also grapes, in endless profusion, peaches, nectarines, and apricots.

The bamiah (lady’s finger) and aubergine are additions to the usual English list of vegetables, and the nohl-kohl is in common use, while radishes the size of a fist are a common food of villagers.

Cheese and butter are cheap, being about twopence a pound, while flour in the great cities seldom exceeds a penny a pound (bread is the same price), and in villages is much cheaper.

With all these things to be got, Persia is really the poor man’s paradise; in fact, to live in, the cheapest country in the world.

Tea and coffee are much drunk; the prices are those of Europe for tea, but the best Mocha coffee is only a shilling a pound. The only dear necessaries are lump-sugar and European candles. Good wine may be got for from threepence to one shilling a quart, and native arrack is from one-and-threepence to one-and-ninepence a bottle.

In the bazaar are cook-shops where the labouring people resort; here are sold bowls of soup, pillaws, kabobs (a separate trade), and a cut off a sheep roasted whole may be had in Ispahan. The trade of kalleh-puz, or cooker of sheep’s heads and feet, is a common one; the head and feet of sheep are slowly simmered for some twelve hours, and the liquor sold as soup; the feet, tongues, and heads being retailed to peripatetic vendors. The butchers sell by weight, and have no idea of joints; the buyer is allowed to hack off a large or small portion, and price is the same, irrespective of part. The liver, lights, and kidneys, with the heart, are only eaten by the poor, while the suet is carefully removed for the candle-maker, and can only be had at a higher price than the meat. The huge tail of the Persian sheep is looked on as a delicacy, and a portion is allotted to each buyer.

The sheep are well slaughtered at the public slaughter-houses outside the town, and nowhere else; a tax of ninepence is levied on each carcase. When hung outside the shops of the butchers, the carcases are decorated with strips of Dutch foil and bunches of grass.

The oxen, being used as beasts of draught in the fields, are only slaughtered when worn out, and beef is consequently only eaten by the poor, being as a rule half the price of mutton. It is hard and indigestible, and as the Persians never hang their meat it is deservedly despised. Lamb is twice the price of mutton. Among the Christians of Julfa, however, good beef is at times to be obtained, but the animals are seldom larger than Alderneys, save when buffalo-meat is had, and this is hard and dark.

Game is frequently sold alive, being netted by the villagers, quails and partridges being thus disposed of; the usual price is four for ninepence. Wild ducks and geese are sold for a few pence; also sand-grouse. Sparrows, too, are particularly valued for soup for invalids, and are sold alive by the hundred. There are no rabbits; hares being what is termed machrore, or uneatable, in contradistinction to nejis, or unclean, are only eaten by the irreligious; the price is usually fourpence to sixpence.

Of course pork is not seen, pigs not being kept, and the flesh of the wild pig is black and indigestible. Pork, however, is looked on as an aphrodisiac, and the Europeans are constantly asked for small pieces of it.

Tame ducks, save in Teheran, are unknown, and turkeys are also very scarce.

Eggs, generally forty to sixty for the keran (ninepence), are brought in by the villagers; the prudent Ispahani always tests his eggs by dipping in water—a very sure test—those that float being addled. Wild rhubarb (rivend), celery (jai-sheer), and chardons, also a kind of truffle, are hawked by boys; the wild onion, too, is looked on as a delicacy.

Mushrooms are found of large size, and are much appreciated. Potatoes are now coming into common use among the Persians; they cost a farthing to a halfpenny per pound for very fine samples of the tuber. Some fourteen years ago they were only cultivated for sale to Europeans, and were very rare and dear. Strawberries are gradually coming into cultivation near the capital. There are no raspberries. The Persians are loath to try new seeds or vegetables. Although I grew green peas in Ispahan, and offered to give the seeds to market-gardeners there, they would not take them. For, said they, “If the prince hears that I grow peas, I shall be obliged to present them to him, and he will never pay me anything, and when the crop is over, probably beat me because I have no more.” The yield of vegetables from native seed is generally very large: the Turkish cabbage grows to a size of twenty-eight pounds per head and quite white, close, and tender.

The Persians never reduce the amount of fruit or vegetable crop to produce a fine product; all things being sold by weight and at a standard price, quantity, not quality, is what is aimed at.

The narcissus and cyclamen grow wild; huge bouquets of the blooms of the former are brought in in early spring, and sold for a few farthings: every room at this time, even that of the poorest labourer, is decorated with this flower. The moss-rose and common pink are also everywhere sold; most of the stalls of the bazaar-men are decorated at least with one, sometimes with many, bouquets of common flowers. These men, too, have talking larks, nightingales, or parrots hung in cages over their shops, or, at times, turtle-doves.

A favourite pet among the Persians is the red-vented date nightingale. This bird lives on dates alone, and is brought from Southern Persia, below Kazerān. The owner places a date and water in the cage, and after a day or two leaves the door open. The bird flies away, but returns several times in the day, and always sleeps in his cage, for nowhere else will he find his food of dates.

Rats, save the Jerboa rat of the desert, are unknown; the arid plains probably preventing their immigration. Mice, of course, swarm, and the many ruins which appear all over the country are full of owls, ravens, and foxes. Choughs abound in certain places, notably on a high rock near Sivend, between Shiraz and Ispahan, on the high-road. Each town has its special bird that teems there, as in Ispahan, magpies, and in Hamadan, doves.

Fly-catchers of many hues are seen hanging on the telegraph wires in hundreds, and the oriole is common in Shiraz; the nightingale in the gardens of Shiraz is literally as frequent as the sparrow in a London street.

The marshes teem with water-fowl—grebe, mallard, ducks, snipe, snippets, cranes, some very large, herons, flamingo, cormorants, geese, and teal, are common; while eagles of various kinds, hawks, some of immense size, and vultures are seen on every march.

In some places the white ant is common, and when the telegraph-line was of wood, considerable damage was done; it is now, however, iron. Great diversity in the character of the natives is seen in the amount of damage done to the line. The turbulent native of South Persia always carries a gun, generally also pistols, and he has a peculiar delight in aiming at telegraph-poles, which he seems to consider as marks put up for his convenience. The pole is made in three pieces—a foot-plate (underground), a socket or holder of cast-iron, and a standard of wrought-iron. The marksmen soon found out that their bullets glanced harmless off the wrought-iron standard, but that a third shot, piercing the cast-iron holder, infallibly brought it down; of course its fall brought the wire with it, and frequent interruption was the result. From Kazerān to Bushire the poles were being continually replaced at great expense, and at length it was considered expedient to replace the ordinary iron telegraph pole by the ingenious “Hamilton” pole in places. This “Hamilton” pole consists of a strip of spiral wrought iron, exactly like a paper-spill in construction; these foil the marksmen: the bullet goes in one side and out the other, but the pole does not fall. I saw one five years ago with seventy-three holes in it, and it was as firm as ever, and is doubtless still standing.

This was one of the apparently trifling difficulties that had to be overcome in keeping up constant communication between England and India.