'Journal of a Journey from Persia to India through Herat and Candahar. Also Report of a Journey to the Wahebee Capital of Riyadh in Central Arabia' [‎11v] (22/268)

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bocoming stonier and steeper till it reaches the highest point, a
desolate convergence of many gorges. This point is some 3 J fur-
sacks from Senmoon, and from it the road descends into tho bed of
a torrent and continues up and down winding through the hills, until
you reach Aheinjoon, where there is a well-built burnt brick serai,
a reservoir of water, and a post-house; besides a sort of hollow forti
fied square for cattle. All speak the desolation and unsafety of tho
spot. The mountains round are of unusually barren aspect; but the
air is delightfully cool, and this compensates all else. There is one
old leafless trunk of a tree near tho caravanserai A roadside inn providing accommodation for caravans (groups of travellers). . I saw a few deer
grazing, or rather searching for something to eat, as I came
down. They were quite tame, and it is forbidden to fire at
them, as a Syud from Meshed has declared them sacred. The
origin of the tale is, perhaps, that it is found inconvenient to
allow fire-arms to be used in this district lest their report
should alarm a passing caravan. Once during this stage the
guide stopped, as ho missed the Mirza. But on cantering
back to a hollow where I had passed some Lootees, I found tho
Mirza quite safe, and vaunting that he would thrash 300 such fel
lows. He is a plucky fellow, I believe; was with Pottinger at
Herat; and often amuses mo with anecdotes of him, of Stod-
dart, and of Todd. I reached Aheinjoon about six ; having been
hours en route on a tolerable poster. I found that Hashem
Beg had prepared my tea and spread my carpet, so I was com
fortable at once; and it only remained to strip as usual, throw a
gindee of water over me, and then put on my loose pants and sort
of night gown; this change immediately on arrival, with a good
shower of water is a great treat, and followed by a cup of tea
quite refreshes me. I hare no spirits, wine, or beer with me, and
am glad of it. But this evening Hashem Beg gave mo some
tamarind juice with my tea, saying it came from an out-of-
the-way place called Goozerat; rather amusing this, for a man
speaking in tho wilds of Khorassan. This afternoon, by tho
way, after leaving Senmoon, I saw where tho path leads off to
Khaff. But this lino to Khaff has no water for a distance of
30 fursacks. It is tho road that the unfortunate prince Mahomed
Itcza took.