A merchant who had lately died at Isfahan, and left a large sum of
money, was so great a niggard, that for many years he denied himself
and his son, a young boy, every support, except a crust of coarse
bread. He was, however, one day tempted by the description a friend
gave of the flavour of cheese to buy a small piece; but before he got
home he began to reproach himself with extravagance, and instead of
eating the cheese he put it into a bottle, and contented himself, and
obliged his child to do the same, with rubbing the crust against the
bottle, enjoying the cheese in imagination.
One day that he returned home later than usual, he found his son eating
his crust, and rubbing it against the door. "What are you about, you
fool?" was his exclamation. "It is dinnertime, father; you have the
key, so I could not open the door;--I was rubbing my bread against it,
because I could not get to the bottle." "Cannot you go without cheese
one day, you luxurious little rascal? you'll never be rich!" added
the angry miser, as he kicked the poor boy for not being able to deny
himself the ideal gratification.
Our stay at Isfahan was short. I regretted this the less, as I had, on
the former mission, full time to trace those remains of the splendour
of the Seffavean kings, which are still to be found at this their
favourite capital. The names of almost all these monarchs are now
forgotten, excepting that of Shâh Abbas the Great, who, in Persia, is
not only the builder of all bridges, cârâvânserâis, and palaces, but
his name is associated with all good sayings, liberal acts, and deeds
of arms. I was really quite tired with hearing of this most gallant,
most sage, most witty, and most munificent monarch, at his seat of
glory; and when sixty miles to the northward of that city, we were
entering the delightful little town of Nethenz, which lies in a narrow
valley between two high mountains, I said to myself, "Well, we are now,
thank God, clear of Abbas and his grand palaces; this scene of repose
abounds in beauties for which he had no taste."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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