The Haji and I entering took our seats upon the side benches with humility, and exchanged salutations with the great man on the Sadr. When the Darbar or levee was full, in stalked the Mirza, and all arose as he calmly divested himself of his shoes; and with all due [p.87]solemnity ascended his proper cushion. He is a short, thin man about thirty-five, with regular features and the usual preposterous lamb-skin cap and beard, two peaked black cones at least four feet in length, measured from the tips, resting on a slender basement of pale yellow face. After a quarter of an hour of ceremonies, polite mutterings and low bendings with the right hand on the left breast, the Mirza's pipe was handed to him first, in token of his dignity-at Teheran he was probably an under-clerk in some government office. In due time we were all served with Kaliuns[FN#26] (Persian hookahs) and coffee by the servants, who made royal conges whenever they passed the great man; and more than once the janissary, in dignity of belt and crooked sabre, entered the court to quicken our awe. The conversation was the usual Oriental thing. It is, for instance, understood that you have seen strange things in strange lands. "Voyaging-is-victory," quotes the Mirza; the quotation is a hackneyed one, but it steps forth majestic as to pause and emphasis. "Verily," you reply with equal ponderousness of pronunciation and novelty of citation, "in leaving home one learns life, yet a journey is a bit of Jahannam." Or if you are a physician the "lieu commun" will be, "Little-learn'd doctors the body destroy: Little-learn'd parsons the soul destroy." To which you will make answer, if you would pass for a man of belles lettres, by the well-known lines, "Of a truth, the physician hath power with drugs, Which, long as the patient hath life, may relieve him; But the tale of our days being duly told, The doctor is daft, and his drugs deceive him." After sitting there with dignity, like the rest of the guests, I took my leave, delighted with the truly Persian [p.88]"apparatus" of the scene. The Mirza, having no salary, lives by fees extorted from his subjects, who pay rather than lack protection; and his dragoman for a counter-fee will sell their interests shamelessly. He is a hidalgo of blue blood in pride, pompousness and poverty. There is not a sheet of writing-paper in the "Consulate"-when they want one a farthing is sent to the grocer's-yet the Consul drives out in an old carriage with four outriders, two tall-capped men preceding and two following the crazy vehicle. And the Egyptians laugh heartily at this display, being accustomed by Mohammed Ali to consider all such parade obsolete.