an author swallows and repeats such yarns, as that one of our sergeants shot an unoffending Armenian, etc.—the unoffending Armenian and the shooting being alike myths (see vol. ii. p. 167, etc.)—one can only suppose that the capacity for swallowing such tough stories is equalled by the pleasure found in retailing them. Whoever the cap fits—and I do not believe it fits any one—it does not fit me, and I will not wear it. One can only pity a man who travels through a country, _mostly by night in a closed litter_, with his eyes very tightly shut and his ears very widely open, all whose facts are hearsay, and most of whose deductions are mistaken. One of the means of making presents used by the great in Persia is the giving of Cashmere shawls; the gift of a shawl is supposed to be an honour as well as a money payment to the recipient. Among other presents made to me by the Persians in my professional capacity was a pair of handsome shawls; as it is not expected that these should be retained, and as they were useless to me as dress-stuffs, for which they are used by the upper classes in Persia of both sexes, I disposed of one for eighteen pounds in the bazaar to a merchant, and retained the other as a present to my mother. On taking it to England I was astonished to find that it was unappreciated, and still more surprised to learn that, as it was made in several strips, as are all the real Cashmere shawls that go to Persia, and fringeless, it was nearly absolutely valueless; in fact, one of the large West End drapers offered as a favour to give me thirty shillings for it. I took it back to Persia, as my mother said it was useless to her, and sold it for twenty pounds, my servant probably making a five pound commission on the transaction. Under the hills, some mile and a half from Shiraz, is the garden of the Dilgooshah, or “Heartsease,” the property of the Kawam; in the middle is a large and solid brick building, having a small tank in the centre, the water flowing into which is warm, about 70° Fahrenheit. Above the tank is a dome, once decorated with a large picture of a battle; this was painted on plaster, but all, save a few pieces, has crumbled away. The garden is planted with orange-trees, and is very large. Above the garden is the “Sau-sau-rac,” or sliding-place; here for centuries the young of both sexes were accustomed to resort; the rocks slope sharply down, and generations of sliders have polished the stones till they have become like glass. After a breakfast at Dilgooshah, whenever there are children or young people, the whole party adjourn to the “Sau-sau-rac,” and the juveniles, and not unfrequently the elders, run up the edge and, squatting at the top, slide rapidly down in strings, the whole tumbling over pell-mell at the bottom; the more adventurous slide down on their stomachs head downwards, but they generally squat and go down in strings for mutual safety; all, however, thus conduce to the polishing of the “Sau-sau-rac.”