tant low plains of Kashan, and, indeed, to supply the
city itself. The waters of this lake, about fifteen feet deep, were
clear as crystal, the bottom and sides being cemented.

This reservoir was constructed by order of Shah Abbas, who seems to
have been one of the wisest and best rulers this unfortunate country
has ever had, for he has certainly done more for his country
than Nasr-oo-din or any of his stock are likely to. Pass a finer
caravanserai than usual, travel a better road, cross a finer bridge,
and interrogate your Shagird as to its history, and you will
invariably receive the answer, "Shah Abbas." At the village of
Khurood, a huge caravanserai (his work) lies in ruins, having been
destroyed seven or eight years ago by an earthquake. Several persons
were killed, the shock occurring at night-time, when the inmates were
asleep.

The post-house at Khurood was cold, filthy, and swarmed with rats--an
animal for which I have always had an especial aversion. Towards
midnight a Persian gentleman arrived from Kashan--a mild,
benign-looking individual, with a grey moustache and large blue
spectacles. The new-comer, who spoke a little French, begged to be
allowed to join us on the morrow, as he was in a hurry to get to
Ispahan. Notwithstanding Gerome's protestations, I had not the heart
to refuse. He looked so miserable and helpless, and indeed was, as
I discovered too late next day. Our new acquaintance then suggested
sending for wine, to drink to the success of our journey. At this
suggestion Gerome woke up; and seeing that, in my case, the rats had
successfully murdered sleep, I gladly agreed to anything that would
make the time pass till daylight. A couple of bottles were then
produced by the postmaster; but it was mawkish stuff, as sweet as
syrup, and quite flavourless. Gerome and the Persian, however, did
not leave a drop, and before they had finished the second bottle were
sworn friends. Although wine is forbidden by the Mohammedan faith, it
is largely indulged in, in secret, by Persians of the upper class. I
never met, however, a follower of the Prophet so open about it as
our friend at Khurood. The wine here was from Ispahan, and cost,
the Persian told us, about sixpence a quart bottle, and was, in my
opinion, dear at that. Shiraz wine is perhaps the best in Persia. It
is white, and, though very sweet when new, develops, if kept for three
or four years, a dry nutty flavour like sherry. This, however, does
not