"Next morning this Meerzâ's son was brought a prisoner to camp. He was sent for by the king, who addressing him, said, 'Go to your father; tell him the Prophet has reproached me for my injustice to him; I will do what I can to make amends: what does he want?' 'To go and pass the remainder of his life at the tomb of the holy Ali at Kerbela,' said the youth. 'Let him depart,' replied the king, 'as soon as his wounds will permit: give him from me these three hundred tomans, and say that horses, mules, and tents will be provided for his accommodation. Inform him, I have repented of my inconsiderate violence, and ask him to pray for me.' "Now," said my friend, the Mâaffee, "many think Aga Mahomed was sincere in his remorse; but I believe he was only cunning. He saw that every one was shocked at his horrible treatment of a holy Syed, and he was anxious to regain their good opinion. Nobody knew so well as that wily fox how to manage men. But after all," he concluded, "bad as he was in other respects, he was the soldier's friend, and so far better than his nephew and successor." "Assuredly," said I, "you cannot accuse the present king of cruelty; he appears to me remarkable for his lenity." "What is the use of his lenity, if he neither gives his soldiers money himself, nor allows them to take it from others? These Kajirs," he continued, in no under tone, and with fifty people within hearing, "are a sad set, and we shall never have good times again while they keep the throne." Next day I spoke privately to this old soldier, and told him I was afraid he might do himself injury by the manner in which he had so openly expressed himself. "Do not be alarmed," he said; "there is now no prince of the Zend family in Persia to compete for the crown. The Kajirs and their adherents, therefore, take little heed of language that can do no harm; besides, the king is, as you say, a merciful man, and he has the good sense to know he cannot alter the feelings of tribes like ours. He knows, also, that however we may talk, we shall prove true to those we serve, provided we are treated with confidence and consideration." The first mission had halted at the village of Taaghoon, within a short distance of Isfahan, where we met a chief called Meerzâ Mehdee Khan, who had served under Lord Clive in Bengal. He spoke in raptures of that great man; from whom, as well as from General Carnac and others, he produced testimonials highly honourable to his character. He had retired, with the fortune he made in India, to this, his native village. I was particularly pleased with this old gentleman, and on our second mission, I inquired for him, but regretted to find he had been dead two years. His son had succeeded to his property and situation as head of Taaghoon, and appeared, from his conduct, to have inherited his father's sentiments of regard for the English.