During the latter days of the Babi massacres, a guard of four men, a sergeant and three privates, was placed at the doors of the European houses by the Governor. Every soldier came to us with a thing that looked like a gun and certainly had a bayonet attached to it; but we heard that at one house it became necessary to send down an extra weapon which would shoot for the common use of the party. Of course the gun that would shoot was withdrawn at the earliest possible opportunity. The higher officers of this extraordinary force are surprisingly numerous, but as there are among them, I believe, boys of about twelve who hold the title of Field-Marshal, there is some excuse for a reduplication of officers. It is only justice to add that some of these soldiers are in their way very good fellows: the guard sent to our house were by no means a bad lot; and I shortly afterwards met a military officer whom I would class with the best Persians I know. Nor does the courage of Persia come out very strongly in the high official class, though here too there are honourable exceptions. Still, as a general rule, amongst those who claim nobility there is very little apprehension of the maxim “_noblesse oblige_.” Of course there is in Yezdi manners and customs much that strikes the outsider as intensely funny. For instance, the etiquette is distinctly peculiar, and although very ceremonious, it does not always appear to the European to be characterised by great politeness. When you come into the room the first two minutes will be spent in phrases intended to convey an exaggerated respectfulness. In upper middle-class houses your host will take upon himself the menial offices of service, not only making your tea himself, but going out of the room every two minutes to supplement the crockery, or to fetch another lump of sugar. If you have a servant with you, your host or his other visitors will discourse freely with this man before your face as to your most trivial personal affairs, and if there is a pause in the conversation they will make side remarks to one another on the number of your virtues, and when they have discovered a certain consensus of opinion, they will turn to you and give you the benefit of it directly, by telling you that you are a very good man. From this you must not infer that Persian friendliness is hollow: all that can be said is that the etiquette is artificial. Even so it means something; for when a man is anxious to pay you proper respect he adheres to it closely, unless he has reason to suppose that you would like him to adopt something of European manners, which some Persians dealing with Europeans try to do. However the etiquette is too elaborate and artificial for universal use, and generally speaking it is not much used except in matters relating to visits and to letter-writing. On other occasions Persians who have no intention of impoliteness are often a little off-hand as compared with other Easterns, and those who intend to