The pipe affected by the lower classes is the short chibouque, this nearly every North Persian of the lower class carries at his back in his girdle or in his pocket; there is a small clay, brass or iron head, and a straight stem of cherry-wood, six inches to a foot long, with a bore some half-inch in diameter through it; there is no mouth-piece, and it is held to the lips, _and not in the teeth_. The tobacco smoked is usually Samsoon, a common kind of coarse Turkish; or Koordi, a mild tobacco, nearly white in colour, but with a pungent flavour; there are many other varieties. This Koordi looks like coarse sawdust, and is _quite_ dry, and is simply the leaf-stalk and stem of the plant coarsely pounded; to look at it, no one would suppose on a first inspection that it was tobacco at all: the best comes from Kermanshah. A third kind of pipe is used by the Arabs of the Gulf and many South Persians; it consists simply of a tube of clay, an inch in diameter, bent at a right or acute angle, and constricted at the middle; from end to end it measures four to seven inches; one side is crammed with tobacco, “Tootoon i Koordi;” a coal is placed on it, and it is passed from hand to hand till the contents are burnt out. It is a very primitive pipe. Enough of pipes. By five all the visitors had gone; we dined at seven, and I retired to sleep in a comfortable bed. At about five[4] next morning I am roused by— “Chai, sahib” (tea, sir); and a lordly individual, with huge mustachios, a black lambskin cap, a brown cloth inner coat, a blue cloth outer coat, a broad belt, and a long “kummer” (or straight broad-bladed sword), dark-blue “shulwar” (what an American calls pants, and an outfitter pyjamas), and his stockinged feet—his shoes were outside my door—places a cup of tea, some twice-baked sweet biscuit, of delicious crispness, and some marmalade, at my side, and departs. He soon returns with a second cup of tea and a kalian. As I am a griffin, he draws my attention to the latter being—“Welly good thing, kalian.” He then goes through a pantomime suggesting sleep, talking all the time to me in Persian. I take his advice. At eight he wakes me, and I find he has a warm tub ready for me. I dress once again in the clothes of ordinary life, and go down, to find no one about, for Major S⸺ has gone to the office, and taken the Colonel with him. However, my especial chief, Mr. B⸺, soon appears, accompanied by his big black dog “Topsy,” who comes into all the rooms and sits on all the settees: there is a fine sense of liberty in this. Mr. B⸺ warns me that I must not hope to make anything by practice—that he never did, and I never shall; but that there is a fine field for gratuitous work. He then explains to me the Persian system of medicine. It has its advantages in its delightful simplicity. All diseases are cold or hot. All remedies are hot or cold. A hot disease requires a cold remedy, and _vice-versâ_.