'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' [‎44v] (88/268)

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heads, may see that he is actually seated. And now comes th3
tea. I offer a cup with mine own hand to the Weaver. He ac
cepts it, squinting backwards at the window. He looks even
more contented when I tell the servant to help the Mirza. And
now we proceed to business. “ The sahib’s condescension is noble!”
simpers the Mirza, smothering his wrath. “ What petition shall I
make ? But my father, as the Weaver knows, was great here in
former days, and bought carpets by the thousand. He would
never have given eight Tomans 10,000 Persian dinars, or a gold coin of that value. for this one. Eight Tomans 10,000 Persian dinars, or a gold coin of that value.
in silver; eight Tomans 10,000 Persian dinars, or a gold coin of that value. and a half in gold.” “Come then, we
are not far apart. And as for you, Mr. Weaver, you. snail have
the odd five krans for the honor of the great Dowlnt Englise,
Take your leave; and here is the money.” The W T eaver disap
pears. But what do I see as I peep through the lattice. The
Mirza’s step quickens; so does the Weaver’s. The Mirza breaks
into a trot; the W r eaver legs it at full speed. But too late. His
neck is already in the grasp of. the Mirza, who now calls him the
son of a burnt father, &c. &c., and used to him other -language
unfit for record in English. Call no weaver happy till he is clear
of the Mirza.
But I want a second carpet, I receive it, ^aid for, and all set
tled from some invisible artist. The Mirza evidently has no am
bition for a second tea drinking with Bottom.
Tuesday, 23rd .—The Minister called in the morning and told
me of a letter the Sirdar Leader of a tribe or a polity; also refers to a military rank or title given to a commander of an army or division. wished to send by me to the A iceroy.
He brought also some letters received from the AVallee of Mu-
menah. The Chief of the Jamsheedees, the Ex-Governor of Seri-
pool, and the Chief of the Saloor and Sarrokh Turcomans have
also written. In the afternoon I rode out to the Gazer Gah, a pretty
dell in the slopes of the mountains about four miles from the
town. The old mosque is in ruins ; but its quadrangle has been
used as a grave yard, and is picturesque. Conspicuous at the fur
ther end of the quadrangle is the tomb of Khojah Abdoollah
Susab, a holy personage, who is asserted to have died about
five hundred years ago. This tomb is of huge proportions, with a
white marble head-stone, artistically chiselled. One tree bends