Shiraz—Shaikh-ool-IslÂm, or Chief Judge—Story of Abd-ool-KÂdir—Entertainments—Derveesh Seffer—Story of AbdÛlla of Khorassan—Persian Poet.

Our only occupation at Shiraz was feasting, visiting, and giving and receiving presents. The cupidity of the Persians exceeded all bounds, and ministers, courtiers, merchants, wits, and poets, were running a race for the Elchee's favour, which was often accompanied by a watch, a piece of chintz, or of broadcloth. Their conduct confirmed me in a belief I had imbibed at Abusheher, that all the Persians were crafty and rapacious rogues. I like to decide quickly; it saves trouble; and when once decided, I am particularly averse to believe my judgment is not infallible.

The Envoy had hired, as before noticed, for his Persian secretary, a mild moderate man, who appeared to have both good sense and good principle: but although some time had elapsed, and I had watched him narrowly without discerning a flaw, I attributed this to his art, and I therefore gave little heed to his reasoning when he used to plead for his countrymen, urging (as he often did), that, from our being strangers, and from our reputation for wealth, generosity, and inexperience, we were naturally exposed to the attacks of the cunning and designing, from whose conduct we drew general inferences, which were not quite fair. "We are not all so bad as you think us," the good Aga Meer used to say, with a smile; "we have some redeeming characters; these may be rare, but still they exist; but that, you English will as yet hardly believe." He used frequently to mention to me, as one, a relation of his own, the Shaikh-ool-IslÂm, or Chief Judge and Priest of Shiraz: "He was," he said, "a person who combined sense and information with piety and humility. He has never come," added he, "like these greedy nobles and hungry poets, to prey upon the munificence of the Elchee; and when the latter, hearing that his sight was weak, sent him a pair of spectacles beautifully mounted in silver, he returned them, requesting a pair set in common tortoise-shell." Though I heard the account of this paraded humility with a smile, I was very happy to find we were to meet this paragon of modest merit at a breakfast, to which Mahomed Hoosein Khan, the son of the minister Hajee Ibrahim, had invited the Envoy.

The party assembled at the garden of SÂdee, and we were seated near a fountain close to the tomb of the Persian moralist. There was some punctilio in taking our places: but the Elchee, though a stickler for rank with the temporal lords, insisted upon giving the highest seat to the Shaikh-ool-IslÂm, who at last consented to take it, observing, the compliment, he felt, was not personal, but meant to his situation as a minister of religion. I sat near, and listened attentively to his conversation, in the hope of detecting the Persian, but was not successful. "You must," he said to the Envoy, "believe me to be void of rational curiosity, and a man who affects humility, because I have not only never been to pay my respects, but when you sent me these costly and beautiful spectacles, I solicited a cheaper and less showy pair. In both instances, however, I acted against my personal inclinations from an imperative sense of duty. My passion," said the Shaikh, "is to hear the history, the manners, and usages of foreign countries; and where could I have such an opportunity of gratifying my curiosity as in your society? I was particularly pleased with the silver spectacles; the glasses suited my eyes; and others in my house besides myself," said he, smiling, "thought they were very becoming. But I was forced in both cases to practise self-denial. The poor have no shield between them and despotic power, but persons in my condition; and they naturally watch our conduct with great vigilance and jealousy: had I, for my own gratification, visited you, and displayed on my person the proofs of your liberality, they would have thought their judge was like others, and have lost some portion of their confidence in my best efforts to protect them. Besides, ministers and courtiers would have rejoiced in my departure from those rigid rules, the observance of which enables us expounders of the Koran to be some check upon them. These were my motives," concluded the Shaikh-ool-IslÂm, "for a conduct which must have seemed almost rude; but you will now understand it, and not condemn me."

The Envoy was evidently delighted with his new friend, and their conversation was protracted for several hours. The Shaikh-ool-IslÂm endeavoured to impress him with a favourable opinion of the law of which he was an organ, and illustrated his arguments with anecdotes of religious and learned men, of which I shall give those that struck me as the happiest.

The celebrated Aboo YÛsuph, he said, who was chief judge of Bagdad in the reign of the Caliph HÂdee, was a very remarkable instance of that humility which distinguishes true wisdom. His sense of his own deficiencies often led him to entertain doubts, where men of less knowledge and more presumption were decided. "It is related of this judge," said the Shaikh-ool-IslÂm, "that on one occasion, after a very patient investigation of facts, he declared that his knowledge was not competent to decide upon the case before him." "Pray, do you expect," said a pert courtier, who heard this declaration, "that the caliph is to pay your ignorance?" "I do not," was the mild reply; "the caliph pays me, and well, for what I do know; if he were to attempt to pay me for what I do not know, the treasures of his empire would not suffice."

The orthodox Shaikh spoke with more toleration than I expected of the Soofees, who, from the wild and visionary doctrines which they profess, are in general held up by the Mahomedan priests as objects of execration. "There were," he observed, "many good and most exemplary men included in this sect, merely because they were enthusiasts in religion. Besides," said the Shaikh, "both our poets, HÂfiz and SÂdee, but particularly the former, were Soofees; and what native of Shiraz can pass a harsh sentence upon them? We must," he continued, "lament the errors of Soofees in consideration of their virtues; and even in their wildest wanderings they convey the most important lessons—for instance, how simply and beautifully has Abd-ool-KÂdir of Ghilan impressed us with the love of truth in a story of his childhood."[41]

After stating the vision which made him entreat of his mother to allow him to go to Bagdad and devote himself to God, he thus proceeds. "I informed her of what I had seen, and she wept: then taking out eighty dinars, she told me that as I had a brother, half of that was all my inheritance; she made me swear, when she gave it me, never to tell a lie, and afterwards bade me farewell, exclaiming, 'Go, my son, I consign thee to God; we shall not meet again till the day of judgment.' I went on well," he adds, "till I came near to HamadÂn, when our kÂfillah was plundered by sixty horsemen: one fellow asked me, 'what I had got?' 'Forty dinars,' said I, 'are sewed under my garments.' The fellow laughed, thinking, no doubt, I was joking with him. 'What have you got?' said another; I gave him the same answer. When they were dividing the spoil, I was called to an eminence where the chief stood: 'What property have you got my little fellow?' said he. 'I have told two of your people already,' I replied, 'I have forty dinars sewed up carefully in my clothes!' He ordered them to be ript open, and found my money.—'And how came you,' said he, with surprise, 'to declare so openly, what has been so carefully hidden?' 'Because,' I replied, 'I will not be false to my mother, to whom I have promised that I will never tell a lie,' 'Child,' said the robber, 'hast thou such a sense of thy duty to thy mother at thy years, and am I insensible, at my age, of the duty I owe to my God? Give me thy hand, innocent boy,' he continued, 'that I may swear repentance upon it.' He did so—his followers were all alike struck with the scene. 'You have been our leader in guilt,' said they to their chief, 'be the same in the path of virtue;' and they instantly, at his order, made restitution of their spoil, and vowed repentance on my hand."

The Elchee, before this party separated, endeavoured to persuade the high priest to allow him the pleasure of a more frequent intercourse; but his kind invitations were declined in a manner and for reasons which satisfied me I had at least met with one good Persian.

While at Shiraz, we were entertained by the prince, his ministers, and some of the principal inhabitants. A breakfast was given to the Elchee, at a beautiful spot near the HazÂr BÂgh, or thousand gardens, in the vicinity of Shiraz; and we were surprised and delighted to find that we were to enjoy this meal on a stack of roses. On this a carpet was laid, and we sat cross-legged like the natives. The stack, which was as large as a common one of hay in England, had been formed without much trouble from the heaps or cocks of rose-leaves, collected before they were sent into the city to be distilled. We were told our party was the first to which such a compliment had been paid. Whether this was the case or not, our mount of roses, added to the fine climate, verdant gardens, and clear rills, gave a character of singular luxuriance to this rural banquet.

We were at several evening parties. The dinner given by the minister, Mahomed Nebbee Khan, was the most magnificent. He has been in India; and some English usages, to please and accommodate us, were grafted on the Persian. We went at five o'clock in the evening, and were received in his state hall. In the court-yard, in front of the room in which we sat, were assembled rope-dancers, wrestlers, musicians, lions, bears, and monkeys, all of which exhibited their different feats till sunset; when, after being regaled with coffee, kelliÂns, and sweetmeats, we were conducted to another apartment, where we found a dessert of fruit very elegantly laid out in the English style. After sitting in this room for about an hour, we returned to the state hall, which we had no sooner entered than the fireworks commenced; and though the space where they were exhibited was very confined, they were the best I ever saw. The rockets were let off from a frame which kept them together, and produced a beautiful effect. There was another sort called zembooreh, or swivels, which made a report like a twelve pounder, and added great spirit and effect to this exhibition. After it was over we had a most sumptuous repast of fine pelaws, &c., and iced sherbets.

The day before we left Shiraz, Derveesh Seffer, my old acquaintance, paid the Elchee a visit. This remarkable man, who has charge of the shrines[42] (including those of SÂdee and HÂfiz) near Shiraz, is esteemed one of the best reciters of poetry and tellers of tales in Persia; and there is no country in the world where more value is placed upon such talents; he who possesses them in an eminent degree is as certain of fortune and fame as the first actors in Europe. Derveesh Seffer, who is honoured by the royal favour, has a very melodious voice, over which he has such power as to be able to imitate every sound, from that of the softest feminine to the harshest masculine voice. The varied expression of his countenance is quite as astonishing as his voice, and his action is remarkably graceful, and always suited to his subject. His memory is not only furnished with an infinite variety of stories, but with all the poetry of his country; this enables him to give interest and effect to the most meagre tale, by apt quotations from the first authors of Persia. Those told by persons like him usually blend religious feeling with entertainment, and are meant to recommend charity; but I cannot better conclude this account of my friend the Derveesh than by giving a tale which he recited to the Envoy, with a view no doubt of impressing him with a belief that worldly success might be promoted by munificence, in any shape, to shrines like those of which he had charge.

The Derveesh having seated himself in a proper position, commenced with a fine passage from the poet NizÂmee in praise of those who, possessing the talent of recitation, give currency and effect to the noble thoughts of departed genius. After a short pause he began his tale.

"In a sequestered vale of the fruitful province of Khorassan there lived a peasant called AbdÛlla. He had married a person in his own rank of life, who, though very plain in her appearance, had received from her fond father the fine name of ZeebÂ, or the beautiful; to which act of parental folly the good woman owed the few seeds of vanity that mixed in her homely character. It was this feeling that led her to name her two children YÛsuph and Fatima, conceiving, no doubt, that the fortunate name of the son of YÂcoob, the vizier of Far'oun, and fascinator of ZuleikhÂ,[43] would aid the boy in his progress through life; while there could be no doubt of her little girl receiving equal advantages from being named after the daughter of the Prophet, and the wife of the renowned Ali.

"With all these family pretensions from high names, no man's means could be more humble, or views more limited, than those of AbdÛlla; but he was content and happy: he was strong and healthy, and laboured for the reis or squire, who owned the land on which his cottage stood—he had done so from youth, and had never left, nor ever desired to leave, his native valley. The wages of his labour were paid in grain and cloth, sufficient for the food and clothing of his family and himself; with money he was unacquainted except by name.

"It happened, however, one day, that the reis was so well pleased with AbdÛlla's exertions that he made him a present of ten piastres. AbdÛlla could hardly express his thanks, he was so surprised and overjoyed at this sudden influx of wealth. The moment he could get away from his daily labour he ran home to his wife:—'There, my ZeebÂ,' said he, 'there are riches for you!' and he spread the money before her. The astonishment and delight of the good woman was little less than that of her husband, and the children were called to share in the joy of their parents. 'Well,' said AbdÛlla, still looking at the money, 'the next thing to consider is what is to be done with this vast sum. The reis has given me to-morrow as a holiday, and I do think, my dear wife, if you approve, I will go to the famous city of Meshed; I never saw it, but it is not above six or seven fersekhs distant. I will pay my devotions at the shrine of the holy ImÂm Mehdee, upon whom be God's blessing, and like a good Mahomedan deposit there two piastres—one fifth of my wealth—and then I will go to the great bazar, of which I have heard so much, and purchase with the remainder every thing you, my dear wife and children, can wish; tell me what you would like best.

"'I will be moderate,' said ZeebÂ; 'I want nothing but a piece of handsome silk for a dress; I think it would be becoming and as she said so, all the associations to which her father had given birth when he gave her a name shot across her mind. 'Bring me,' said the sturdy little YÛsuph, 'a nice horse and a sword.' 'And me,' said his sister, in a softer tone, 'an Indian handkerchief and a pair of golden slippers.' 'Every one of these articles shall be here to-morrow evening,' said AbdÛlla, as he kissed his happy family; and early next morning, taking a stout staff in his hand, he commenced his journey towards Meshed.

"When AbdÛlla approached the holy city his attention was first attracted by the cluster of splendid domes and minarets, which encircled the tomb of the holy ImÂm Mehdee, whose roofs glittered with gold. He gazed with wonder at a sight which appeared to him more like those which the faithful are promised in heaven, than any thing he ever expected to see on this earth. Passing through the streets which led to such magnificent buildings, he could look at nothing but them. When arrived at the gate of the sacred shrine, he stopped for a moment in silent awe, and asked a venerable priest, who was reading the Koran, if he might proceed, explaining at the same time his object. 'Enter, my brother,' said the old man; 'bestow your alms, and you shall be rewarded; for one of the most pious of the caliphs has said—'Prayer takes a man half way to paradise; fasting brings him to its portals; but these are only opened to him who is charitable."

"Having deposited, like a good and pious Mussulman, the fifth[44] of his treasure on the shrine of the holy ImÂm, AbdÛlla went to the great bazar; on entering which his senses were quite confounded by the novel sight of the pedestrian crowd hurrying to and fro; the richly caparisoned horses, the splendid trains of the nobles, and the loaded camels and mules, which filled the space between rich shops, where every ware of Europe, India, China, Tartary, and Persia was displayed. He gazed with open mouth at every thing he saw, and felt for the first time what an ignorant and insignificant being he had hitherto been. Though pushed from side to side by those on foot, and often nearly run over by those on horseback, it was some time before he became aware of the dangers to which his wonder exposed him. These accidents however soon put him out of humour with the bustle he had at first so much admired, and determined him to finish his business and return to his quiet home.

"Entering a shop where there was a number of silks, such as he had seen worn by the family of the reis, he inquired for their finest pieces. The shopman looked at him, and observing from his dress that he was from the country, concluded he was one of those rich farmers, who, notwithstanding the wealth they have acquired, maintain the plain habits of the peasantry, to whom they have a pride in belonging. He, consequently, thought he had a good customer; that is, a man who added to riches but little knowledge of the article he desired to purchase. With this impression he tossed and tumbled over every piece of silk in his shop. AbdÛlla was so bewildered by their beauty and variety, that it was long before he could decide; at last he fixed upon one, which was purple with a rich embroidered border. 'I will take this,' he said, wrapping it up, and putting it under his arm; 'What is the price?'—'I shall only ask you, who are a new customer,' said the man, 'two hundred piastres; I should ask any one else three or four hundred for so exquisite a specimen of manufacture, but I wish to tempt you back again, when you leave your beautiful lands in the country to honour our busy town with your presence.' AbdÛlla stared, replaced the silk, and repeated in amazement—'Two—hundred—piastres! you must be mistaken; do you mean such piastres as these?' taking one out of the eight he had left in his pocket, and holding it up to the gaze of the astonished shopkeeper. 'Certainly I do,' said the latter; 'and it is very cheap at that price.' 'Poor ZeebÂ!' said AbdÛlla, with a sigh at the thoughts of her disappointment. 'Poor who?' said the silk-mercer. 'My wife,' said AbdÛlla. 'What have I to do with your wife?' said the man, whose tone altered as his chance of sale diminished. 'Why,' said AbdÛlla, 'I will tell you all: I have worked hard for the reis of our village ever since I was a boy; I never saw money till yesterday, when he gave me ten piastres. I came to Meshed, where I had never been before. I had given, like a good Mussulman, a fifth of my wealth to the ImÂm Mehdee, the holy descendant of our blessed Prophet, and with the eight remaining piastres I intend to buy a piece of embroidered silk for my good wife, a horse and sword for my little boy, and an Indian handkerchief and a pair of golden slippers for my darling daughter; and here you ask me two hundred piastres for one piece of silk How am I to pay you, and with what money am I to buy the other articles? tell me that,' said AbdÛlla, in a reproachful tone. 'Get out of my shop!' said the enraged vender of silks; 'here have I been wasting my valuable time, and rumpling my choicest goods, for a fool and a madman! Go along to your Zeeb and your booby children; buy stale cakes and black sugar for them, and do not trouble me any more.' So saying he thrust his new and valued customer out of the door.

"AbdÛlla muttered to himself as he went away, 'No doubt this is a rascal, but there may be honest men in Meshed; I will try amongst the horse-dealers; and having inquired where these were to be found, he hastened to get a handsome pony for YÛsuph. No sooner had he arrived at the horse market, and made his wishes known, than twenty were exhibited. As he was admiring one that pranced along delightfully, a friend, whom he had never seen before, whispered him to beware, that the animal, though he went very well when heated, was dead lame when cool. He had nearly made up his mind to purchase another, when the same man significantly pointed to the hand of the owner, which was one finger short, and then champing with his mouth and looking at the admired horse, gave AbdÛlla to understand that his beloved boy might incur some hazard from such a purchase. The very thought alarmed him; and he turned to his kind friend, and asked if he could not recommend a suitable animal? The man said, his brother had one, which, if he could be prevailed upon to part with, would just answer, but he doubted whether he would sell him; yet as his son, who used to ride this horse, was gone to school, he thought he might. AbdÛlla was all gratitude, and begged him to exert his influence. This was promised and done; and in a few minutes a smart little grey horse, with head and tail in the air, cantered up. The delighted peasant conceived YÛsuph on his back, and, in a hurry to realize his vision, demanded the price. 'Any other person but yourself,' said the man, 'should not have him for one piastre less than two hundred; but as I trust to make a friend as well as a bargain, I have persuaded my brother to take only one hundred and fifty.' The astonished AbdÛlla stepped back—'Why you horse-dealers,' said he, 'whom I thought were such good men, are as bad as the silk-mercers!' He then recapitulated to his friend the rise of his present fortune, and all that had occurred since he entered Meshed. The man had hardly patience to hear him to a close; 'And have I,' said he, 'been throwing away my friendship, and hazarding a quarrel with my brethren, by an over-zealous honesty to please a fool of a bumpkin! Get along to your ZeebÂ, and your YÛsuph, and your Fatima, and buy for your young hopeful the sixteenth share of a jackass! the smallest portion of that animal is more suited to your means and your mind, than a hair of the tail of the fine horses you have presumed to look at!'

"So saying, he went away in a rage, leaving AbdÛlla in perfect dismay. He thought, however, he might still succeed in obtaining some of the lesser articles; he, however, met with nothing but disappointment: the lowest priced sword was thirty piastres, the golden slippers were twenty, and a small Indian handkerchief was twelve, being four piastres more than all he possessed.

"Disgusted with the whole scene, the good man turned his steps towards home. As he was passing through the suburbs he met a holy mendicant exclaiming, 'Charity, charity! He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord; and he that lendeth to the Lord shall be repaid a hundred-fold.' 'What is that you say?' said AbdÛlla. The beggar repeated his exclamation. 'You are the only person I can deal with,' said the good but simple peasant; 'there are eight piastres—all I possess; take them, and use them in the name of the Almighty, but take care that I am hereafter paid a hundred-fold, for without it I shall never be able to gratify my dear wife and children.' And in the simplicity of his heart he repeated to the mendicant all which had occurred, that he might exactly understand the situation in which he was placed.

"The holy man, scarcely able to suppress a smile as he carefully folded up the eight piastres, bade AbdÛlla to be of good heart, and rely upon a sure return. He then left him, exclaiming as before, 'Charity, charity! He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord; and he that lendeth to the Lord shall be repaid a hundred-fold.'

"When AbdÛlla came within sight of his cottage, they all ran to meet him. The breathless YÛsuph was the first who reached his father: 'Where is my horse and my sword?' 'And my Indian handkerchief and golden slippers?' said little Fatima, who had now come up. 'And my silk vest?' said ZeebÂ, who was close behind her daughter. 'But wealth has changed your disposition, my dear AbdÛlla!' said the good woman: 'you have become grave, and no doubt,' she added with a smile, 'so dignified, that you could not be burdened, but have hired a servant to bring home the horse and to carry the presents for your family. Well, children, be patient; we shall see every thing in a few minutes.' AbdÛlla shook his head, but would not speak a word till he entered his dwelling. He then seated himself on his coarse mat, and repeated all his adventures, every part of which was heard with temper till his last act, that of giving his piastres to the mendicant. ZeebÂ, who had a little more knowledge of the world than her husband, and whose mind was ruffled by disappointment, loudly reproached him with his stupidity and folly in thus throwing away the money he had obtained by the liberality of the reis, to whom she immediately went and gave information of all that had occurred. The enraged squire sent for AbdÛlla: 'You blockhead,' said he, 'what have you been about? I, who am a man of substance, never give more than a copper coin[45] to these vagabond rascals who go about asking charity; and here you have given one of them eight piastres; enough to spoil the whole generation; but he promised you a hundred-fold, and you shall have it to prevent future folly. Here,' said he to the servants near him, 'seize the fellow, and give him a hundred stripes!' The order was obeyed as soon as given, and poor AbdÛlla went home on the night of the day following that which had dawned upon his wealth, sore from a beating, without a coin in his pocket, out of temper with silk-mercers, horse-dealers, cutlers, slipper-makers, mendicants, squires, wives, himself, and all the world.

"Early next morning AbdÛlla was awakened by a message, that the reis wanted him. Before he went he had forgiven his wife, who was much grieved at the punishment which her indiscretion had brought upon her husband. He also kissed his children, and bid them be of good heart, for he might yet, through God's favour, make amends for the disappointment he had caused them. When he came to the reis, the latter said, 'I have found a job for you, AbdÛlla, that will bring you to your senses: here, in this dry soil, I mean to dig for water, and you must toil day after day till it is found.' So saying, he went away, leaving AbdÛlla to his own sad reflections and hard labour He made little progress the first two days; but on the third, when about six cubits below the surface, he came upon a brass vessel: on looking into which, he found it full of round white stones, which were beautiful from their smoothness and fine lustre. He tried to break one with his teeth, but could not. 'Well,' said he, 'this is no doubt some of the rice belonging to the squire which has been turned into stones: I am glad of it—he is a cruel master; I will, however, take them home—they are very pretty; and now I recollect I saw some very like them at Meshed for sale. But what can this be? said AbdÛlla to himself, disengaging another pot from the earth—'Oho! these are darker, they must have been wheat—but they are very beautiful; and here!' cried he, 'these shining pieces of glass are finer and brighter than all the rest; but I will try if they are glass;' and he put one of them between two stones, but could not break it.

"Pleased with this discovery, and believing he had got something valuable, but ignorant what it was, he dug out all he could find, and putting them into a bag carefully concealed it even from his wife. His plan was, to obtain a day's leave from his master, and go again to Meshed, where he had hopes of selling the pretty stones of various colours for as much money as would purchase the silk vest, the horse, the sword, the slippers, and the handkerchief. His mind dwelt with satisfaction on the pleasing surprise it would be to those he loved, to see him return home, mounted on the horse, and loaded with the other articles. But while the pious AbdÛlla indulged in this dream, he always resolved that the ImÂm Mehdee should receive a fifth of whatever wealth he obtained.

"After some weeks' hard labour at the well, water was found. The reis was in good humour, and the boon of a holiday was granted. AbdÛlla departed before daylight, that no one might see the bag which he carried; when close to Meshed, he concealed it near the root of a tree, having first taken out two handfuls of the pretty stones, to try what kind of a market he could make of them. He went to a shop where he had seen some like them. He asked the man, pointing to those in the shop, if he would buy any such articles? 'Certainly,' said the jeweller, for such he was; 'have you one to sell?' 'One!' said AbdÛlla, 'I have plenty.' 'Plenty!' repeated the man. 'Yes: a bag-full.' 'Common pebbles, I suppose; can you show me any?' 'Look here!' said AbdÛlla, taking out a handful, which so surprised the jeweller that it was some time before he could speak. 'Will you remain here, honest man,' said he, 'for a moment,' trembling as he spoke, 'and I will return instantly.' So saying, he left the shop, but reappeared in a few minutes with the chief magistrate and some of his attendants. 'There is the man,' said he; 'I am innocent of all dealings with him: he has found the long lost treasure of Khoosroo:[46] his pockets are filled with diamonds, rubies, and pearls, in price and lustre far beyond any existing; and he says he has a bag-full.' The magistrate ordered AbdÛlla to be searched, and the jewels which had been described were found. He was then desired to show where he had deposited the bag, which he did; all were carefully sealed, and carried with AbdÛlla to the governor, by whom he was strictly examined. He told his whole history from first to last: the receiving of ten piastres; his charity at the shrine of the ImÂm; his intended purchases; the conduct of the mercer, the horse-dealer, the cutler, the slipper-maker; the promises of the mendicant; the disappointment and anger of his wife; the cruelty of the reis; the digging of the well; the discovery of the pretty stones; the plan formed for disposing of them, with the reserve for further charity: all this was narrated with a clearness and simplicity that stamped its truth, which was confirmed by the testimony of his wife and children, who were brought to Meshed. But notwithstanding this, AbdÛlla, his family, and the treasures he had found, were a few days afterwards despatched for Isfahan, under a guard of five hundred horsemen. Express couriers were sent before to advise the ministers of the great Abbas of the discovery which had been made, and of all that had been done.

"During these proceedings at Meshed, extraordinary events occurred at Isfahan. ShÂh Abbas the Great saw one night in a dream the holy ImÂm Mehdee, clothed in green robes. The saint, after looking steadfastly at the monarch, exclaimed, 'Abbas, protect and favour my friend!' The king was much troubled at this dream, and desired his astrologers and wise men to expound it: but they could not. On the two following nights the same vision appeared, and the same words were pronounced. The monarch lost all temper, and threatened the chief astrologer and others with death, unless they relieved the anxiety of his mind before the evening of the same day. While preparations were making for their execution, the couriers from the governor of Meshed arrived, and the vizier, after perusing the letters, hastened to the king. 'Let the mind of the refuge[47] of the world be at repose,' he said: 'for the dream of our monarch is explained. The peasant AbdÛlla of Khorassan, who, though ignorant and poor, is pious and charitable, and who has become the chosen instrument of Providence for discovering the treasures of Khoosroo, is the revealed friend of the holy ImÂm Mehdee, who has commanded that this good and humble man be honoured by the protection and favour of the king of kings.'

"ShÂh Abbas listened to the particulars which were written from Meshed with delight: his mind was quite relieved, and he ordered all his nobles and his army to accompany him a day's march from Isfahan to meet the friend of the holy ImÂm. When the approach of the party was announced, the king walked from his tent a short distance to meet them. First came one hundred horsemen; next AbdÛlla, with his arms bound, sitting on a camel; after him, on another, his wife ZeebÂ, and followed by their children, YÛsuph and Fatima, riding together on a third. Behind the prisoners was the treasure. A hundred horsemen guarded each flank, and two hundred covered the rear. ShÂh Abbas made the camels which carried AbdÛlla and his family kneel close to him, and aided, with his royal hands, to untie the cords by which the good man was bound, while others released his wife and children. A suit of the king's own robes were directed to be put upon AbdÛlla, and the monarch led him to a seat close to his throne: but before he would consent to be seated, he thus addressed his majesty.

"'O King of the Universe, I am a poor man, but I was contented with my lot, and happy in my family, till I first knew wealth. From that day my life has been a series of misfortunes: folly and ambition have made me entertain wishes out of my sphere, and I have brought disappointment and misfortune on those I loved best; but now that my death is near, and it pleases your majesty to amuse yourself with a mock-honour to your slave, he is satisfied, if your royal clemency will only spare the lives of that kind woman and these dear children. Let them be restored to the peace and innocence of their native valley, and deal with me according to your royal pleasure.'

"On uttering these words, AbdÛlla, overcome by his feelings, burst into tears. Abbas was himself greatly moved. 'Good and pious man,' he said, 'I intend to honour, not to slay thee. Thy humble and sincere prayers, and thy charitable offerings at the shrine of the holy Mehdee, have been approved and accepted. He has commanded me to protect and favour thee. Thou shalt stay a few days at my capital, to recover from thy fatigues, and return as governor of that province from which thou hast come a prisoner. A wise minister, versed in the forms of office, shall attend thee; but in thy piety and honesty of character I shall find the best qualities for him who is destined to rule over others. Thy good wife Zeeb has already received the silk vest she so anxiously expected; and it shall be my charge,' continued the gracious monarch, with a smile, 'to see YÛsuph provided with a horse and sword, and that little Fatima shall have her handkerchief and golden slippers.'

"The manner as well as the expressions of the king dispelled all AbdÛlla's fears, and filled his heart with boundless gratitude. He was soon after nominated governor of Khorassan, and became famous over the country for his humanity and justice. He repaired, beautified, and richly endowed the shrine of the holy ImÂm, to whose guardian care he ever ascribed his advancement. YÛsuph became a favourite of Abbas, and was distinguished by his skill in horsemanship, and by his gallantry. Fatima was married to one of the principal nobles, and the good Zeeb had the satisfaction through life of being sole mistress in her family, and having no rival in the affection of her husband, who continued to cherish, in his exalted situation, those ties and feelings which had formed his happiness in humble life."

Such is the story of AbdÛlla of Khorassan, as given by my friend Derveesh Seffer; but the difference between perusing it and hearing him tell it, is that between reading a play and seeing it acted by the first performers. I had heard him tell this tale ten years before, when a curious incident occured. Two gentlemen rose to leave the party when he was commencing: he asked the cause of their departure. "They do not understand Persian," I said. "That is of no consequence," he replied; "entreat them to stay, and they will soon find that their ignorance of the language does not place them beyond my power." His wishes were explained, and the result proved he was correct; they were nearly as much entertained as others, and had their feelings almost equally excited; such was his admirable expression of countenance, and so varied the intonations of his voice.

I was pleased to see my friend Derveesh Seffer treated with liberality by the Elchee. Such conduct towards persons of his character and profession makes useful impressions. But here, as elsewhere, much depends upon the selection of proper objects of notice; and it is no easy matter to resist the constant attempts which are made to obtain money or presents.

A poet of Shiraz, named MoollÂh Adam, had gone a stage from that city to present an ode to the Elchee, whom he had in this long and laboured production compared to Roostem, the hero of Persia, for valour; to PeerÂn-Weeseh, the Solomon of Tartary, for wisdom; and to HÂtim-TÂi, the most munificent of Arabian princes, for generosity. He had been rewarded for his trouble, but was not satisfied, and his genius was taxed to obtain something more. While we were sitting in the room, at the gateway of the beautiful garden of JehÂn-NoomÂ, looking at the mules carrying our baggage towards Isfahan, this votary of the muses made his appearance: his professed object was to take leave; his real purpose was to read an epigram of four lines,[48] the concluding one of which was—

This line, from sÂ'et signifying hour or watch, might either be translated,

or,

The animals, laden with the most valuable articles, were at the moment on the road below the window where we were seated, and the Elchee, pointing to them, said, "SÂ'et goozesht," the hour is past, or, the watch is gone. The countenance of the poet, which had, on reading his last line, glistened with expectation, changed for a moment, but was soon covered with forced smiles, and he declared that he would rather carry the Elchee's happy reply into the city than ten watches. I trembled lest this flattery should succeed: it did not; and he departed apparently in good humour, but inwardly, no doubt, much disappointed.