a's
sanctuary, arouses universal curiosity; and not only the Sartiep and
Hadji Mahdi, but hundreds of big-turbaned Meshedi notables, mollahs, and
seyuds are admitted during the day to enjoy the happy privilege of
feasting their eyes on the latest proof of the Ferenghis' wonderful
marifet,

Upon receipt of the telegram at Shahrood refusing me permission to go
through Turkestan, I telegraphed to Mr. Gray, requesting him to obtain
leave for me to go to the Boundary Commission Camp, and accompany them
back to India, or reach India from the camp alone. Mr. Gray kindly
forwarded my request to the camp, and now urges me to consider myself his
guest until the return courier arrives with the answer. This turns out to
mean a stop-over of seven days, and on the second day immense crowds of
people assemble in the street, shouting for me to come out and ride the
bicycle. The clamor on the streets renders it impossible for them to
transact business in the telegraph office, and several times requests are
sent in begging me to appease them and stop the uproar by riding to and
fro along the street. An outer door separates the compound in which the
house is built from the street, and to prevent the rabble from invading
the premises, and the possibility of unpleasant consequences, the
Governor-General stations a guard of four soldiers at the door. This
precaution works very well so far as the common herd are concerned, but
every hour through the day little knots of priestly men in the flowing
new garments and spotless turbans representing their Noo Roos purchases,
or the lamb's-wool cylinder and semi-European garb of the official,
bribe, coerce, or command the guard to let them in.

These persistent people generally stand in a respectful attitude just
inside the outer gate, and send word in by a servant that a Shahzedah
(relative of the Shah) wishes to see the bicycle. After the first
"Shahzedah" has been treated with courtesy and consideration in deference
to his royal relative at Teheran, fully two-thirds of those who come
after unblushingly proclaim themselves uncles, cousins, or nephews of
"His Majesty, the King of Kings and Ruler of the Universe!" The constant
worry and annoyance of these people compel us to adopt measures of
self-defence, and so, after admitting about a hundred uncles, twice that
number of nephews, and Heaven knows how many cousins, we conclude that
blood-relations of the Shah are altogether too numerous in Meshed