The inhabitants of Cashan, like those of Isfahan, are more celebrated as silk weavers than warriors. When Nadir Shâh returned from India he published a proclamation, permitting the followers of his army to return to their homes. It is narrated that thirty thousand of those who belonged to Cashan and Isfahan applied to this monarch for a guard of a hundred musketeers to escort them safe to their wives and children. "Cowards!" exclaimed he, in a fury; "Would I were a robber again for the sake of waylaying and plundering you all. Is not my success a miracle," said he to those around him, "with such a set of dastards in my camp!" This story and many others were told us as we were sitting in one of the cool rooms of the palace of Fin, commenting on the qualities of the Câshânees. My old friend Mahomed Shereef Khan Burgshattee told me he had once a convincing proof that a Câshânee might be a brave man. "On returning," said he, "from the pursuit of a small party of plundering Tûrkûmâns, I found that ten of my men had surrounded a fine looking youth, who was on a dry spot in a morass, where not more than two could approach him at a time. He had only a sword and a spear, but refused to yield; inviting his opponents to use their fire-arms, since they durst not fight him on equal terms. Struck with his appearance and courage, I solicited him to surrender, and assured him he should be well treated. 'I know better,' said he, 'than to regard the promises of a faithless Persian, who the moment I was unarmed would maltreat and murder me.' I ordered my men to withdraw to a distance, and after making a vow he should be well used, and leaving my arms on the ground, I rode forward, saying, 'I will confide in you, though you dare not trust me.' The youth, subdued by this action, sprung from his horse, threw down his spear and sword, and hastened to kiss my stirrup; offering at the same time his services, which I accepted. "I desired him to remount," continued Mahomed Shereef Khan, "and we rejoined my astonished followers. After complimenting him on his courage, I asked where he was born? 'At Cashan,' he said. 'You a Câshânee!' I replied with surprise. 'I am,' said he; 'my father was a silk weaver, and I had just begun to learn his business, being about twelve years of age, when having gone with some companions to amuse ourselves at a distance from the town, we were surprised and carried off by a party of Tûrkûmâns. I was adopted into the family of one of their chiefs, who carefully instructed me in horsemanship and the use of arms. I have ever since accompanied him in his plundering incursions into Persia and other countries.'