"You must know," said Mihrâb Khan, seeing I did not quite comprehend him, "this tribe and mine have a long-continued feud. Our lands adjoin; the government is too strong at present to admit of attacking each other openly like brave men; so we endeavour, like sneaking rascals, to do each other all the mischief we can by intrigues and plots at court. They are at present in great favour, and have recently obtained the transfer of a small tribe, whose tents you have just passed, and who were formerly our peasants." "Who are these peasants?" I asked. "Oh," said the Turkish chief, "they belong to one of the old Persian tribes, which it is the policy of the king to break, and so he parcels them amongst us Turks; but that has nothing to do with his taking them from us, and giving them to our enemies." During this conversation we had reached the summit of an eminence, from which Mihrâb Khan, his eyes glistening with joy, pointed out the ruins of a village. "Look there," said he, "it is twenty-five years since I accompanied my uncle Hâshem Khan to an attack of that village; we completely sacked and destroyed it. The rascals had no Shâhin-Shâh (king of kings) to protect them then. But there is one consolation, these stupid times cannot last for ever; and if I live long enough to give these vagabonds another sound drubbing, I shall die contented!" The morning after this conversation, we arrived at the fort of Hâshem,[98] a name given to this castle, after the founder, the uncle of our mehmandar. We were met by four nephews of the latter, several of his relations, a troop of his followers, and his little son Shâhverdee, who, though only eight years of age, paid his compliments to the Elchee in a most formal style, and managed with great address a large and spirited horse. When we entered the fort, we found it completely dismantled, and two of the bastions thrown down. This was done, we were informed, by the jealousy of the king, who disapproved of his nobles having strongholds. We had no sooner finished a very plentiful breakfast, than our host retired to his inner apartment, and returned, leading in his hand a stout, chubby, red-cheeked boy, between three and four years of age. Of this little fellow, he seemed very proud; there could not be a finer child: he, also, was well trained, and made his obeisance to the Elchee, like a high bred young gentleman, and took his seat near his father. We however managed, though not without some difficulty, to discompose his gravity, and soon discovered, that he was, as his father had described him, a proper Young Pickle.