, and found that his
horse was in the same plight--as, indeed, was every animal we passed
on the road between Koom and Pasingan. This is on account of the
water at and between the two places, which is full of small leeches,
invisible except through a microscope. Horses, mules, and cattle
suffer much in consequence, for nothing can be done to remedy the
evil.

A pleasant gallop of under an hour brought us to Pasingan. It was
hardly possible to realize, riding through the warm evening air, for
all the world like a June evening in England, that but two days before
we had well-nigh been frozen to death. Had I known what was in store
for us beyond Kashan, I might have marvelled even more at this sudden
and welcome change of climate.

The guest-chamber at Pasingan was already taken by a Persian khan,
a rude, blustering fellow, who refused us even a corner; so we had,
perforce, to make the best of it downstairs among the rats and vermin.
Devoured by the latter, and unable to sleep, we rose at the first
streak of dawn, saddled two of the khan's horses, and rode away to
Sin-Sin before any one was astir. The poor Shagird, whom we had to
threaten with a severe chastisement if he did not accompany us, was in
a terrible state. The bow-string was the least he could expect when
the khan came to know of the trick we had played him. An extra keran
at Sin-Sin, however, soon consoled our guide. He probably never
returned to Pasingan at all, but sought his fortunes elsewhere.
Persian post-boys are not particular.

Kashan is distant about fifty-two English miles from Pasingan, and
lies south-east of the latter. The caravan track passes a level tract
of country, sparsely cultivated by means of irrigation. Persian soil
is evidently of the kind that, "tickled with a hoe, laughs with a
harvest." Even in this sterile desert, covered for the most part with
white salt deposits, the little oases of grain and garden looked as
fresh and green as though they had been on the banks of a lake or
river. But the green patches were very few and far between, and,
half-way between the post-stations, ceased altogether. Nothing was
then visible but a waste of brown mud and yellow sand, cut clear and
distinct against the blue sky-line on the horizon. It is strange, when
crossing such tracts of country, to note how near to one everything
seems. Objects six or eight miles off, looked to-day as if you could
gallop up to them in five minutes; and the peak of Dem