. Koom is noted for the
manufacture of a white porous earthenware, which is made into flasks
and bottles, some of beautiful design and workmanship.

The city is entered from the north by a substantial stone bridge,
spanning a swift but shallow river. It presents, at first sight, much
more the appearance of a Spanish or Moorish town than a Persian one.
The dirty brown mud huts are replaced by picturesque white houses,
with coloured domes, gaily striped awnings, and carved wooden
balconies overhanging the stream. Riding through the city gate, we
plunge from dazzling sunshine into the cool semi-darkness of the
bazaar, through which we ride for at least a quarter of an hour, when
a sudden turning brings us once more into daylight in the yard of a
huge caravanserai, crowded with mule and camel caravans.

The apartment or cell allotted to us was, however, so filthy that we
decided to push on at once to Pasingan, the next stage, four farsakhs
distant. Koom is noted for the size and venom of its scorpions; and
the dim recesses of the dark, cobwebby chamber, with its greasy
walls and smoke-blackened ceiling, looked just the place for these
undesirable bedfellows.

So we rode on again into the open country, past crowds of beggars and
dervishes at the eastern gate, as usual, busily engaged, as soon as
they saw us coming, at their devotions. Clear of the city walls, one
sees nothing on every side but huge storks. They are held sacred by
the natives, being supposed to migrate to Mecca every year. I heard at
Ispahan that, notwithstanding the outward austerity and piety of
the people of Koom, there is no town in Persia where so much secret
depravity and licentiousness are carried on as in the "Holy City."

The stage from Koom to Pasingan was accomplished in an incredibly
short time; and I may here mention that this was the only occasion
upon which, in Persia, I was ever given a fairly good horse. The word
_chapar_ signifies in Persian to "gallop," but it is extremely rare to
find "chapar post" pony which has any notion of going out of his own
pace--something between a walk and a canter, like the old grey horse
that carries round the lady in pink and spangles in a travelling
circus. But to-day I got hold of a wiry, game little chestnut, who was
evidently new to the job, and reached and tore away at his bridle as
if he enjoyed the fun. Seeing, about half-way, that he was bleeding at
the mouth, I called Gerome's attention to the fact