“However, one of the parties has the worst of it, and begins to fall back on the camels which carry the women. Then are heard on both sides the women—on the one, animating the conquerors by their cries of joy—on the other, seeking to stimulate the failing courage of their husbands and brothers by their screams of anger and imprecation. Under these reproaches the ardor of the vanquished returns, and they make a vigorous effort. Supported by the fire of the infantry who are in reserve, they recover their ground, and throw back their enemy into the midst of the women, who, in their turn, curse those whom just before they had applauded. The battle returns to the ground which lies between the females of the tribes. At last, the party who have suffered most in men and horses, who have sustained the greatest loss, and have seen their bravest chiefs fall, take flight in spite of the exhortations and prayers of those bold men who, trying to rally them, fly right and left, and try to recover the victory. Some warriors still hold their ground, but the general route sweeps them off. They are soon by their women—then each, seeing that all is lost, occupies himself in saving that which is dearest; they gain as much ground as possible in their flight, turning from time to time to face the pursuing enemy. The conquerors might ruin them completely, if the intoxication of their triumph did not build a bridge of gold for the vanquished, but the thirst of pillage disbands them. One despoils a footman—another a horseman: this one seizes a horse—that a negro. Thanks to this disorder, the bravest of the tribe save their wives, and frequently their tents.” Before 1800, no political mission from a European nation had visited the court of Persia for a century; but the English had fame as soldiers from the report of their deeds in India. An officer of one of the frigates which conveyed Sir John Malcolm’s mission, who had gone ashore at Abusheher, and was there mounted on a spirited horse, afforded no small entertainment to the Persians by his bad horsemanship. The next day the man who supplied the ship with vegetables, and who spoke a little English, met him on board, and said—“Don’t be ashamed, sir, nobody knows you—bad rider! I tell them you, like all English, ride well, but that time they see you, _you very drunk_.” The worthy Persian thought it would have been a reproach for a man of a warlike nation not to ride well, but none for a European to get drunk.