We rode home through the silent streets of Kermanshah, the only light being our farnooses, or cylindrical lamps, made of copper and calico, something in the fashion of a Chinese lantern; and the full moon. We met no one in the streets, which were deserted save by the dogs, and the whole town seemed sunk in sleep. The Persian is an early bird, going to bed at nine, and rising at four or half-past four. It is very difficult to break oneself of this habit of early rising on returning to Europe. One is looked on as very eccentric on getting up at half-past four, and is hunted from room to room by the housemaids. Certainly the early morning is the best part of the day all over the world, but we Europeans in our wisdom have altered it. “Nous avons changé tout cela”—and we prefer living by gaslight, electricity, etc. The next morning the Serrum-u-dowlet came over to take our photographs, and was very friendly; he took them really well, and is a clever fellow. We went for a ride, and had the unwonted luxury of a two hours’ canter over good turf. I never had this anywhere else in Persia but once. While near the river we saw plenty of duck, and Pierson told me that they are always to be had in the Kermanshah river. In Kermanshah I found that the grassy plain round the town had many attractions. Some two miles’ canter on it brought me to a swamp where there were always snipe, except in the hot weather, an occasional duck, and even at times wild geese. A ludicrous incident happened to me one day in regard to the latter. As I was cantering up to the swamp with my groom, I saw on the other side of a herd of cattle a flock of geese grazing. To dismount and take my gun from him was the work of an instant, and I quickly inserted a cartridge charged with No. 4, and a wire ditto, for my left barrel. I walked stealthily among the cattle towards the flock of geese, but the game took no notice of me, and allowed me to get within thirty yards; then it came across me, how if these were _tame_ geese, what a fire of chaff I should get from Pierson. I did not think of shouting, as of course I should have done, which would have settled the question, but I retreated stealthily to where my groom was standing with the horses. I saw that he was full of excitement, and felt that I had made a fool of myself. “Shikar?” (“Are they wild ones?”) said I. “Belli, belli, sahib!” (“Yes, yes, sir!”) Back I went, but alas! only to be too well convinced that they _were_ wild ones, for the whole flock sailed away ere I could get within a hundred and fifty yards. I have often shot geese—that is, a goose at a time—but I never had such another chance. The birds really behaved just as tame ones would; I can only suppose that my being among the grazing cows I was looked upon as harmless. I did not relate that afternoon’s adventure to Pierson for some time after.