sers and short zouave jacket. The men resembled
Afghans.

I here came across the first running camel I had seen in Persia, and on
it was mounted a picturesque rider, who had slung to his saddle a sword,
a gun, and two pistols, while round his waistband a dagger, a
powder-flask, bullet pouch, cap carrier, and various such other warlike
implements hung gracefully in the bright light of the sun. A few yards
further we came upon a ghastly sight--a split camel. The poor obstinate
beast had refused to cross a narrow stream by the bridge, and had got
instead on the slippery mud near the water edge. His long clumsy
hind-legs had slipped with a sudden _ecart_ that had torn his body ripped
open. The camel was being killed as we passed, and its piercing cries and
moans were too pitiful for words.

The mountain on which the huge tower of silence has been erected--by
permission of Zil-es-Sultan, I was told--is quadrangular with a long,
narrow, flat-topped platform on the summit. The best view of it is
obtained from the south. Sadek told me in all seriousness from
information received from the natives, that the bodies are placed in
these towers in a sitting position with a stick under the chin to support
them erect. When crows come in swarms to pick away at the body, if the
right eye is plucked out first by a plundering bird, it is said to be a
sure sign that the ex-soul of the body will go to heaven. If the left eye
is picked at first, then a warmer climate is in store for the soul of the
dead.

After leaving behind the Guebre tower we come again upon thousands of
borings for water, and ancient _kanats_, now dry and unused. The country
grows less sandy about eight miles from Yezd, and we have now gradually
ascended some 320 feet from the village of Meiboh (Maibut) to an altitude
of 4,230 feet. Here we altogether miss the flourishing cultivation which
lined the track as far as the Guebre tower, and cannot detect a single
blade of grass or natural vegetation of any kind on any side. There are
high mountains to the south-west and east.

On the right (west) side of the track, eight miles from Yezd, is the neat
mud wall of Nusseratabad, with a few trees peeping above it, but to the
left of us all is barren, and we toddled along on grey, clayish sand.

Half-way between Nusseratabad and Yezd a four-towered well is to be
found, and a quarter of a mile further the Mazereh Sadrih village, one
and a-half farsakhs from Yezd. The mules sank