One of our missionaries had to leave Kerman quite suddenly while we were there. Before leaving he packed all his most valued books into tin-lined cases and had them soldered down, thinking they would be safe against the intrusions of white ants. Shortly after his departure we suspected these wretches of being at work amongst the books, and so came to the conclusion we had better open and see. There, sure enough, they were, and busily they had been engaged too, for like "Mother Hubbard who went to the cupboard," when we went to the box we found it bare! if not quite, almost so; for, with the exception of a few stout leather covers, all trace of Mr. Blackett's valuable library was gone! Such are the literary instincts of white ants. But indeed nothing comes amiss to their tastes--books, boots, pictures, carpets, clothes, papers--all vanish under the business-like efforts of these horrible creatures. What with white ants and bad servants to contend and combat with, housekeeping in Kerman was enough to turn one's hair grey! The struggle was unequal, and I generally got the worst of it. To begin with, the servants we had brought with us from Isphahan refused to stay in such an out-of-the-world spot as Kerman, so no sooner had we begun to unpack than first one and then another declared his intention of going, until we were left stranded. Then began the joys of servant-hunting. In some parts of Persia this is not a difficult task, but in Kerman it was practically impossible to find a decent servant, or one that knew anything about his work.