As to education in Persia, reading, writing, and the rudiments of arithmetic are general among the merchant and bazaar class; and each small village has its school, which is generally held in the mosque. The usual sum paid for instruction to the “moallim,” or schoolmaster, is from sixpence to a shilling a month. The letters are taught, and then the reading in Arabic of the Koran. Of course the boys do not understand what they read, and as they all read at once in chorus, the noise is deafening. The discipline is severe, and a boy who is idle, or whose parents are backward with the monthly stipend, has a rough time of it. The bastinado on a miniature scale is always ready in the corner, and a rope and pulley is kept, in which a troublesome boy’s hand and foot may be placed, that he may be hoisted on high, a terror to evil-doers. This, however, is not a painful punishment; it is a sort of substitute for the standing on the form as practised with us. No attempt is made to teach anything more than the three R’s; particular attention is devoted to calligraphy, for a good writer is sure of his living, if merely as a clerk.

Those who aspire higher, to the post of mirza or secretary, generally obtain a knowledge of phrase, trope, and compliment from the writings of the poets; and the intricacies of detail on these matters are endless—in fact, they are a science.

The tales of “Saadi,” and a smattering of Arabic, form the climax of what is learnt at school.

At many village schools a few only of the boys learn to write, all to read. This power of reading they soon lose, but a villager has little occasion for it, and the repeating from memory of a few prayers, and passages from the Koran, with some verses of poetry, is generally all that remains to the villager of his education.

The quoting of poetry in Persia is universal; it is in every man’s mouth from highest to lowest, and is introduced into the most unpoetical conversations. The servants would often pass their evenings listening to the declamation of the poet Firdūsi as intoned by my cook; and certain hackneyed quotations are ever on the lips of even the most ignorant.

A few boys, after leaving school, proceed to college (“medresseh”). These are intended for the priesthood, the law, or medicine.

There seem to be no regular courses.

The student studies Arabic sedulously, and reads a good deal in a desultory sort of way, much time being devoted to poetry and commentaries on the Koran, while he fills up the rest of his time in literally “sitting at the feet of the local Gamaliels,” regularly presenting himself at the receptions of the heads of law and religion; he is seen at their “medjlisses,” or assemblies; ever ready with a quotation, or a smooth affirmative, or a sigh of astonishment at the erudition of his patron; the student swells the throng of his numerous hangers-on, accompanying him on visits, and to the mosques; ever ready to write a letter, run with a message, give an order to a servant; in fact, to do everything that is not exactly menial.

After a few years of assiduously imitating the great man, the young priest or lawyer is, perhaps, sent to a small village, where he may become pedagogue and parson, or he elects to follow the fortunes of some grandee, as secretary on no wages, with possible opportunities of modakel (peculation).

Or, if a doctor’s son or relative, he compounds his drugs for a year, and then is a full-blown hakim, or physician, and, setting up in some distant town, on the principle that “no man is a prophet in his own country,” he may earn a very comfortable living.

In Teheran there is a college where the rudiments of a liberal education are taught by English and French professors on an ambitious scale. From this college are recruited the courtiers, diplomats, and Government employés of the Shah, also the principal officers of the army.

The daughters of the rich and learned are the only women who are at all educated; some of them are good readers and reciters of poetry, and can even write verse themselves; but most of the educated women can merely write a letter and read the Koran, or an ordinary Persian story-book, the former without comprehension, it being in Arabic. A great deal of their time is given to poetry, and they are all of a very sentimental turn. About one woman to fifty educated men are found, the policy of Mahommedanism being “not to open the eyes of a woman too wide.”

Among the educated classes many are infidels, others pure theists, while communism as a religion is followed by the numerous secret sectaries of the “Baab;” among whose tenets is undoubtedly, though the Baabis deny the fact, that of community of wives and property.

The great portion, however, of the merchants, traders, and villagers are really Mahommedans, a practical and work-a-day religion, when stripped of mummery and bigotry. The Persian is not prone to fanaticism, though he is easily excited to it, and dangerous when in a state of religious fervour. They are very particular as to prayers and forms, as fasting, etc., and many carry them out at great personal inconvenience.

Among the higher servants—military and courtier class—however, irreligion is rife. These say no prayers, keep no fasts, have no belief, and are utterly dead to everything but what they believe to be their own interests. Many openly boast their disbelief in anything, and this is done with impunity.

In the year 1874 I had occasion to march down to Bushire. The journey was without incident, but shows the extraordinary variety of the climate. We went down on our own horses in five days.

The first night we lay covered with all our rugs in a small room, four of us, with a huge fire, and it was impossible to sleep for the intense cold. The next day we rode through heavy snow, having to blunder through drifts on foot up to our waists, dragging our horses, and glad to drink raw curaçoa to keep any warmth in us when freezing on our horses, where we were able to ride. The fourth night we slept in the open air at Dalliké, under some palms, with next to no covering; and as I was the only one of the party who had taken the precaution to keep my head wrapped up in a handkerchief, and my gloves and a pair of socks on, so I was the only one who was not terribly bitten on face, feet, and hands by mosquitoes. That day and the next we suffered from the heat.

The only memorable event in Bushire, which we left after a week’s stay, was the good fortune of one of the cable employés. He had bought a ticket in the big Indian Derby sweepstakes for nine rupees, the original price being ten. It was sold to him rather against his will, the seller being a married man, and feeling it wrong to gamble. The ticket won five thousand pounds, which was duly paid to the lucky buyer. What must have been the feelings of the other man? Mr. S— (the purchaser), however, salved them by generously giving him five hundred rupees.

Being now entitled to two years’ leave I made up my mind to return home, and posted up to Teheran and Resht; thence by Russian steamer over the Caspian.

On the Caspian I met the Rev. R. B—, of the Church Missionary Society, who had been stationed at the Armenian village of Julfa, near Ispahan. He was returning with his wife, after a stay in Persia of some years. This companionship made a tedious journey more agreeable. We had fine weather on the Caspian, and reached Zaritzin without incident.

When passing through Russia a French lady, Madame O—, authoress of ‘Impressions of Life in Russia,’ came into our train. She was accompanied by a crowd of friends, who had provided her with supplies of food and drink, fruits and sweetmeats, on a most extensive scale.

These she most kindly insisted on our partaking of. She proved an amusing companion, but differed on religious matters with the clergyman, who at length expressed himself as shocked with her very liberal opinions. The lady then ceased to argue, and asked for a cigarette. My friend gave her one, but it was of Teheran manufacture, and not at all to her taste.

“Tiens,” she said, handing a silver case to him, filled with Russian Laferme cigarettes, “my opinions are like your cigarettes, execrable, but my cigarettes are undeniable;” and they were.

I took my two years’ leave, married, and made up my mind, very reluctantly, not to return to Persia; but the English climate did not agree with me, and at length my wife and I determined to go out, and, at all events, see if it were preferable to England or no.

I fancy it was rather against my own previous ideas, as we were shown a letter of mine by a married French friend, who had, when personally unknown to me, written to ask what was the needful outfit for Persia. I had replied, so many shirts, boots, etc., such saddlery, and, above all, no wife.

After five years’ experience we both think my advice to my friend was correct.

In September 1876 we got on board the British India Steamship Company’s ship Arcot. Our friends and relatives went with us as far as Gravesend, and we went through all the usual weepings and farewells. My wife was very ill till in the Bay of Biscay; I insisted then on her coming on deck, and after that, though she couldn’t stand the saloon, which was stuffy, for the first week, she enjoyed the voyage, which, as she had never left Europe before, had all the charm of novelty.

We were lucky in our ship, and lucky in our captain, and we had only one fellow-passenger, a youth of nineteen; save a Portuguese doctor, who got in at Lisbon, and out at Aden, whence he was bound to Mozambique. There was an enormous staff of Portuguese (half-caste) waiters, and, with so few passengers, of course we received great, almost oppressive, attention from them.

The captain had a small dog, of the curly variety called “Tiger,” and one “boy” looked after him, and another after our little black-and-tan terrier, “Pip.”

Of this arrangement I was unaware till one day I asked a “boy”—they were much alike—if he had seen the dog about. “Don’t know, sah; I Tiger’s boy, sah; I go ask Pip’s boy, sah.”

There being so few passengers we got a state-room for four to ourselves, which opened into a bathroom. This was specially convenient, and the bath of hot and cold water very refreshing in the hot places we had to pass on our long seven weeks’ voyage.

At Lisbon we stayed two days. The entrance to the mooring-place was very fine, and the site of the old town—that destroyed by earthquake—was pointed out to us. The wine trade seemed to absorb the principal energies of the inhabitants, who were a bustling lot, and the reverse of prepossessing. As it rained the whole time we were there, we saw nothing of the place. We got a box of Bucellas, containing two dozen, for two pounds, for use on our march up country, and found it a clear light wine, but not strong enough for the ordinary English palate. It did not seem to be sophisticated.

Algiers, the next port we reached, was a delightful break in the voyage. We went ashore, saw the lions, and here my wife had her first glimpse of Oriental life. The Arabs in their white burnooses, looking in the gloaming like so many freshly-risen Lazaruses, the negroes, veiled women, camels, etc., all astonished and delighted her. We went for several long drives (in the sun and dust); we sat under the palms of the “Place,” in the dust, and heard the band; lunched at a café in the dust; bought many lovely photographs, and were very sorry to continue our voyage. We here got fresh sardines; very far superior to tinned ones we thought them.

Of Port Said and Suez there is little to be said. A kind of café chantant, with roulette on disadvantageous terms, seemed to wake into extreme liveliness on the arrival of the P. and O. boat at the more cheerful of these two towns, I really forget which; and syrens, of an elderly Teutonic type, sang and played on various instruments; while a roaring temporary trade was done in beer and syphons. The canal is too well known to need description.

At Jeddah we had two days. The first one was diversified by an invitation to the house of the consul, whose nephew was acting, and in the afternoon we went for a gallop on donkeys in the desert—such donkeys, nearly fourteen hands high, pure white; groomed within an inch of their lives, full of spirit, and worth forty pounds apiece. I forget if these animals were Bahrein donkeys, or, in fact, where they did come from, but they were the equal of any hack I ever rode—soft-mouthed, spirited, of free action. They kept up with our host’s horse with ease, and our ride in the desert was certainly an enjoyable one.

The next day the captain was good enough to give us a day on a coral reef. We went by boat to the reef, and saw Nature’s superb aquarium, where all the vegetation and fishes were in good condition—such zoophytes, such seaweeds, and such gorgeous fish, sponges of all sorts and sizes, and coral of all sorts of shapes and colours; lovely, indeed, as seen through the clear water.

The boat was run aground on the reef, and the men got us many specimens, which we carefully treasured in a foot-bath for twenty-four hours, but the great heat killed them all then. Huge sea-slugs were very numerous; they are eaten by the Chinese, and are dried and sold in large quantities.

We did not call at Hodeida, the port of Mocha.

At Aden we lay three days, and of course went to see the tanks; very wonderful, but so often described that it would be presumption to attempt it. We were presented by Captain Hansard, of the B.I.SS. Co., with a large basket of the biggest and sweetest oranges we had ever tasted; they were from Madagascar. Only those who have been in the Red Sea can appreciate the delights of such a present at its full value.

Captain Hansard’s vessel, the steamer for Zanzibar, was moored alongside ours while cargo was trans-shipped, and there was quite a congregation of British India steamers. Captain Hansard brought on board for our amusement his pet, a rare species of lemur; this being—he was more human than a monkey—constantly accompanied the captain over his ship; he was a dullish white, save the body and arms, which were covered by a bright brown-coloured fur, giving the animal the appearance of having on a sort of “cardigan;” the bright yellow eyes, and noiseless, rapidly graceful movements were strange; the term lemur being a very appropriate one, for the animal was very ghost-like.

Quite different in habits from the common gray lemur, “Grimes,” for so Captain Hansard named him, was a most gentle and affectionate animal, clinging to his master like a baby, and quite like a child in his affection.

But “Grimes’s” temper was uncertain; he got loose and would have severely bitten a youth who teased him had he not been with difficulty secured, and this he never would have been had not Captain Hansard just then luckily come aboard; to his master’s whistle he came at once. More agile than a monkey, the creature, when pursued, flew over the rigging and awnings, taking long bounds without apparent effort, like an exaggerated Spring-heeled-Jack; and coming down to the ground noiselessly, as if devoid of weight. “Grimes” was altogether a notable animal; his master was much attached to him. We were presented with a monkey by another of the captains; he was amusing, as all monkeys are, but his light paled before the superior attractions of “Grimes.”

Leaving Aden, we ran straight for Kurrachee, which we reached after nearly five weeks from London. We knew no one in the place, and we should have been glad to have seen a little of India by taking a tour by rail, but Captain Burke assured us that he might be ordered off at any moment by telegram; and as we did not feel disposed to chance being separated from our kit, we had to forego it.

Each day we went ashore after tiffin, and were driven about in a landau and pair; it was much too hot to walk.

Since we reached Jeddah we had been sleeping on the skylight platform; this was each night fenced in by tent walls, but here the damp drove us below. On this skylight, too (a big awning covered the whole deck), we lunched and dined.

One day we diversified our drive by an excursion to Muggerpir; it is some twenty miles off, most of the way on a good road, but a terribly dusty one; we had to take four horses, and as soon as we arrived, were glad to take refuge in the travellers’ bungalow and lie down to escape the heat. After lunch (tiffin I may say, as we were in India) we went to see the muggers (alligators).

Behind a low mud wall was a muddy pool having some twenty snouts exposed: apparently lifeless, they looked like bits of driftwood; under a tree lay a big alligator quite motionless. On the guardian being interviewed, he suggested our regaling the muggers with a kid, and one was brought by a villager, paid for, and killed. The priest in charge now advanced close to the pool, the eyes of the owners of the snouts opened, but the heads hardly moved; we saw several other smaller reptiles among the bushes. The man now called to them, a few wagged their heads slightly, but otherwise did not notice him; then he brought the kid, and all now were instantly alive; those who had been hidden in the bushes slid into the muddy water hole, and all began to swim vigorously, while the big gentleman under the tree actually opened his eyes; but he did not stir. The body of the kid was tossed in, and was instantly torn in pieces and struggled for; in two minutes it had disappeared; it was a horrible sight. In another five minutes the pool was still, the motionless heads lay sweltering in the sun, and all was as quiet as death.

The guardian now advanced to the big alligator, and informed us that he was a legatee, and regularly fed under the terms of a will, and so independent of the votive kids. The brute allowed the man to open his jaws, and gave no signs of life, save that when called his eyes opened. He was a fine animal, but the rest of the muggers were what Americans would call “right mean little cusses.” We satisfied the priest and returned to Kurrachee, having seen its one sight.

One other thing, the oysters at Kurrachee are not bad, particularly when you know you won’t get any for five years to come.

We were much struck with the beauty and cheapness of the black-wood furniture here. This beautiful carved furniture is now, so they told us, out of fashion in India, and may be had for a song; the worst of it is, it is brittle and bulky. We went to one of the dealers and bought a hundred pounds’ worth, and for this sum our Persian home would have been sumptuously furnished; we made a contract with the seller, in writing, to pay him ten per cent. extra for the whole to be delivered free on board, in cases not weighing over three hundred pounds each, and not measuring more than four by three feet; if otherwise as to size and weight, the bargain to be off. The afternoon before the Arcot left, we, on our return from our drive, found the dealer on board, and he smilingly informed us that the furniture was all in the hold; he then presented his bill. I smelt a rat, as I had told him I must see the cases and weigh them before shipment. Luckily I did not trust the fellow, for some of the cases weighed eight hundred pounds, and of course could not have gone up country in Persia. I refused to take delivery, and was threatened with the law. But it appears that the dealer, on showing his contract to a solicitor, was told he had no case, and reluctantly removed his packages. I was sorry the man lost by the affair, but packages of huge size and weight were useless for mule carriage. So we lost our black-wood furniture.

We had ten days of the coast of Belūchistan and the Persian Gulf, stopping at Linga, Bunder Abbas, etc., though we did not go ashore, having no desire for some hours’ pull, in the sun, in an open native boat on a very rough sea.

At length Bushire was reached, and after a seven weeks’ voyage from the time we left London, we landed in Persia; and were hospitably entertained at the Residency, where Colonel Prideaux, one of the whilom captives of King Theodore, was Acting Political Resident in the Persian Gulf; Colonel Ross being at home on leave.

I was anxious to draw pay again, which I could only do on reaching my station, Shiraz; and to escape the rains: so I engaged a muleteer, and finding two of my old servants and a boy in Bushire, we started with thirty mules, ourselves riding muleteers’ ponies.

Our stay in Bushire lasted only four days, and at some personal discomfort we started, hoping to avoid the rains which were due in a fortnight.