at Biddeh, a very large and most weird place,
with habitations partly cut into the high mud banks. The houses were
several storeys high. The greater number of buildings, now in ruins, show
evidence of the former importance of this place and the wonderful ancient
aqueducts with the water carried over a high bridge from one side of a
ravine to the other are of great interest. This must have been a
prosperous place at one time. The whitish clay soil has been quaintly
corroded by the action of water, and one finds curious grottoes and deep,
contorted, natural channels. A mosque and several impressive
buildings--the adjective only applies when you do not get too near
them--stand high up against the cliff side. The whole place is quite
picturesque.

The mules go along a narrow lane between walled fields, and then by a
steepish ascent among ruined houses and patches of cultivation we reach
the summit of the clay dune, on which the newer village of Meiboh
(Maibut)--3,940 feet--is situated.

There is a most beautiful (for Persia) caravanserai here with a
delightful domed tank of clear spring water, in which I then and there
took a delicious bath, much to the horror of the caravanserai proprietor
who assured me--when it was too late--that the tank was no _hammam_ or
bath, but was water for drinking purposes. His horror turned into white
rage when, moreover, he declared that my soap, which I had used freely,
would kill all the fish which he had carefully nursed for years in the
tank. We spent most of the evening in watching the state of their health,
and eventually it was with some relief that we perceived all the soap
float away and the water again become as clear as crystal. To the evident
discomfiture of the caravanserai man, when we paid the last visit to the
tank at 4 a.m. just previous to my departure, no deaths were to be
registered in the tank, and therefore no heavy damages to pay.

There is nothing one misses more than baths while travelling in central
and eastern Persia. There is generally hardly sufficient water to drink
at the various stages, and it is usually so slimy and bad that, although
one does not mind drinking it, because one has to, one really would not
dream of bathing or washing in it! Hence my anxiety not to lose my chance
of a good plunge at Meiboh.

On leaving Meiboh at 4 a.m. we passed for a considerable distance through
land under cultivation, the crop being principally wheat. A large
flour-mill wa