From Pole to Pole: A Book for Young PeopleHedin, Sven Anders
General
From Pole to Pole: A Book for Young People
Hedin, Sven Anders
Geography -- Juvenile literature; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile literature
A servant conducted me to an adjoining building, which was to be mine
during my stay, and where I made myself at home in a large apartment
with Persian rugs and black silk divans. Two secretaries were placed at
my disposal, and servants to carry out my slightest wish. If I desired
to eat, they would bring in a piece of excellent mutton on a spit, a
chicken boiled with rice, sour milk, cheese and bread, apricots, grapes,
and melons, and at the end of the meal coffee and a water-pipe; if I
wished to drink, a sweet liquor of iced date-juice was served; and if I
thought of taking a ride in order to see the town and neighbourhood,
pure-blooded Arab horses stood in the court awaiting me.
Before the house lay a peaceful garden surrounded by a wall, and with
its paths laid with marble slabs. Here lilacs blossomed, and here I
could dream the whole day away amidst the perfume of roses. Gold-fishes
swam in a basin of crystal-clear water, and a tiny jet shot up into the
air glittering like a spider's web in the sunshine. I slept in this
enchanting garden at night, and when I awoke in the morning I could
hardly believe that all was real; it was so like an adventure from the
_Thousand and one Nights_. My rich host and my secretaries did not
suspect that I had only sixpence in my pocket.
When the last day came I could no longer conceal my destitute condition.
"I have something unpleasant to confide to you," I said to one of the
secretaries. "Indeed," he answered, looking very astonished. "Yes, my
money has come to an end. My journey has been longer than I expected,
and now I am quite cleared out." "What does that matter? You can get as
much money as you like from Agha Hassan."
It had struck midnight when I went to take farewell of my kind host. He
worked all night during the fasting month. "I am sorry that you cannot
stay longer," he said. "Yes, I too am sorry that I must leave you, and
that I can never repay your great kindness to me." "You know that the
road through the hills is unsafe owing to robbers and footpads. I have
therefore arranged that you shall accompany the post, which is escorted
by three soldiers."
Having thanked him once more, I took my leave. A secretary handed me a
leather purse full of silver. The post rider and the soldiers were
ready; we mounted, rode slowly through the dark, narrow streets of the
town, at a smart trot when the houses were scattered, and then at full
gallop when the desert stretched around us on all sides. We rode 105
miles in sixteen hours, with three relays of horses and barely an hour's
rest. We stayed a day at Hamadan, and then rode on to the capital, with
nine relays of fresh horses. During the last fifty-five hours I never
went to sleep, but often dozed in the saddle. At length the domes of
Teheran, its poplars and plane-trees, stood out against the morning sky,
and, half-dead with weariness, and ragged and torn, I rode through the
south-western gate of the city.
FOOTNOTES:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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