"The possession of our families," said Rahmân Beg, as he concluded this short history of his tribe, "compelled our chiefs to enter into a compact not to plunder, and they have been obliged to give their children as hostages for its faithful performance. The present king has improved upon the policy of his uncle: a colony of our tribe is established at Teheran; some are in service, and the others, though strictly watched, are permitted to trade. If matters go on in this way our sons will become a set of blackguard horse-dealers, instead of gallant warriors, and their children will be instructed in the art of cheating unwary citizens, instead of the more manly occupation of plundering a rich traveller. We shall have no more fine Persian girls to keep our tents clean, and dress our victuals, nor active fellows to rub our horses, or attend our flocks! What a sad change! And as to our profits in breeding and selling horses, I have known more money given in one day for the ransom of a nobleman or a wealthy merchant, than our whole tribe can now make by trafficking in cattle for a twelvemonth!" I asked Rahmân Beg, how he, as a Mahomedan, could reconcile himself to make slaves of persons of the same religion? "What," said he, "do you count these rascally Sheâhs, the Persians, who deny the first four Caliphs, to be of the same religion as we Soonees?--they are vile schismatics." "Then," I observed, "when you made Soonees captives, you did not make them slaves?" "Why! I don't know; I think," he added, laughing, "we should in such case have been compelled to become Sheâhs ourselves; for slaves we must have." The Tûrkûmâns, of whom Rahmân Beg is a fair specimen, pay little if any regard to religion beyond a few ceremonies. The rites observed at their births, funerals, and marriages, are not essentially different from those of the other wandering tribes in Persia. The courage of this tribe is proverbial, and both the Persians and Afghâns admit their extraordinary prowess. They use bows and arrows, and some few have fire-arms, but the weapon on which they place most dependence is the spear. This is in general from ten to twelve feet long, rudely formed, and with a short piece of steel at the point. As we were one day looking at a party of the king's guards,[93] each of whom was armed with a sword, a spear, a pair of pistols, and a dagger, Rahmân Beg tossed up his head in contempt, exclaiming, "What is the good of all that arsenal? what can a soldier want beyond a spear and a heart?"[94] The Tûrkûmâns are fond of music and dancing. The celebrated song of "Koor Ogloo," or The Son of the Blind Man, is chanted when they go to battle, and is said to have a wonderful effect in exciting the courage of this rude race. I asked Rahmân Beg to give me a copy of this song; he could not, but gave me its general purport, and repeated some lines with great animation.