Fourteen hollow pillars, four feet high, built of mud bricks, were each built around a small hole in the ground, thus leaving a cavity six feet deep. One morning we heard that eleven men had been walled up in them alive; it appeared that three of the fourteen men were reprieved, that the farrash-bashi (chief carpet-spreader literally), or principal of the police of the Governor, was ordered to wall up eleven men, and that, fearing a disturbance, it was done suddenly. At midnight he, with a force of some two hundred soldiers, four executioners, and numerous farrashes, marched the eleven highway robbers in irons some mile and a half through the deserted streets to a place outside the town where the pillars stood. They were accompanied by several masons whom they had impressed, and a donkey-load of plaster of Paris. It seems that the farrash-bashi had received from the friends of one of the robbers forty pounds (one thousand kerans) to allow him to escape, so on the road he seized on a poor porter, intending to wall him up and let the robber go. Day dawned ere they reached the place, and fortunately for the porter a crowd assembled; among them were some who recognized him; the farrash-bashi was forced to let him go, for had he carried out his intentions Khosro Mirza, the Governor, would not have spared him. Each robber was placed in a pillar alive, then loose earth was poured in up to his chest, then a quantity of earth was hurriedly mixed with the plaster of Paris, water was added, a kind of mortar made, and the top of each column was plastered over having the man’s head enclosed in a mass of mortar which, had there been _enough_ plaster, would have _set_, at once destroying life. Unfortunately the plaster was insufficient in quantity, no more was to be had; the mud did not set, and many of the men _were alive and crying for water at the end of two days_. The Governor on hearing this sent the executioner to put them out of their misery, which he did by opening the top of each column and cutting their throats. As my wife and I came home from a ride we passed the columns freshly plastered; this was in 1877. Just prior to my first arrival in Persia the “Hissam-u-Sultaneh,” another uncle of the king, had burnt a priest to death for a horrible crime and murder; the priest was chained to a stake, and the matting from the mosques piled on him to a great height, the pile of mats was lighted and burnt freely, but when the mats were consumed the priest was found groaning, but still alive. The executioner went to the Hissam-u-Sultaneh, who ordered him to obtain more mats, pour naphtha on them, and apply a light, which _after some hours_ he did. A terrible death!