Nothing can exceed in beauty and fertility, the country in the vicinity of Isfahan, and the first appearance of that city is very imposing. All that is noble meets the eye: the groves, avenues, and spreading orchards, with which it abounds, concealing the ruins of this once famed capital. A nearer view, however, dispels the illusion; but still much remains of wealth, if not of splendour, and were I so disposed, I might write a volume on its beautiful environs; its palaces, splendid even in decay, its college, with massy gates of silver, its magnificent bridges, its baths, its arched bazars, its fountains, its far-famed river Zindehrood, and the gardens on its banks, shaded with lofty sycamores, and filled with every flower and fruit of the temperate zone. When the patience of the reader was exhausted by a minute description of all the beauties and bounties which art and nature have lavished on Isfahan, there would still remain to be described its two hundred thousand inhabitants, more than half of whom poured forth in their gayest attire to the istikbâl, or meeting with the Elchee, the day we entered this renowned city. A few days after our arrival the governor gave the Elchee an entertainment, which began, as usual, with sweetmeats and fruit; and after pipes, coffee, tumbling, wrestling, and fireworks, a sumptuous dinner was served up. Another day we were invited to breakfast with my old friend Hajee Ibrahim Kâledoonee, who gave us milk prepared in seventy-two different ways, being, as Hajee Hoosein whispered me, in accordance with the seventy-two sects in the religion of Mahomed. Whether there was such a design or not I cannot say, but the fare was admirable, and I was delighted to find my friend, who is, besides being an extensive farmer, a ketkhûdâ, or magistrate, of the ward of Kâledoon in Isfahan, the same plain-dressed, plain-spoken, humorous person we had left him ten years before. He took us, as he had formerly done, to the wonder of his quarter, the shaking minarets.[83] When a person mounts to the top of one of these, and moves his body, it vibrates, and the vibration is imparted to the other, though at a distance of about forty feet, the width of the mosque to which they belong. While my companions were trying this experiment, and wondering at the cause, I remained on the terrace conversing with Hajee Ibrahim. I noticed a small village about a mile distant which seemed deserted. "Is that oppression?" said I. "No," said the Hajee, "worse." "Why," said I, "the Tûrkûmâns cannot have carried their inroads so near the town." "They could not have done the work so complete," said my friend, smiling. "Who has done it?" I asked. "A doctor," replied he; "a proper fellow, who acquired great reputation, and he deserved it, from the heirs of his patients at least. That village literally perished under his hands in five years. Now he is gone I know not where, but good luck attend him, so he comes not again to our neighbourhood."