I was one day speaking to my friend Meerzâ Aga of the munificence of the barber of the great Abbas, in a manner which implied doubt of the fact. He observed he knew not whether the barbers of the Seffavean monarchs built bridges, but "I do know," he said, "that the Khâsterâsh (literally personal shaver) of our present sovereign has, in the abundance of his wealth, built a palace for himself close to the royal bath at Teheran. Then," said the good Meerzâ, "he is entitled to riches, for he is a man of pre-eminent excellence in his art, and has had for a long period under his special care the magnificent beard of his majesty, which is at this moment, and has been for years, the pride of Persia." "Well," I replied, "if your personal shaver has built such a mansion, I will no longer doubt the wealth of the barber of Shâh Abbas, for that monarch, though he wore no beard, had, we are told by travellers, and observe from paintings, a noble pair of mustachoes, of which he is said to have been very proud; and the trimmer of which no doubt was, as he deserved to be, a great favourite." This conversation led to a long dissertation on mustachoes and beards, upon which subject my travels to countries that my Persian friends had never seen enabled me to give them much useful information. I told them many stories about the Sikhs, a nation dwelling between the territories of Cabool and India, who, devoting their beards and whiskers to the goddess of destruction, are always prompt to destroy any one who meddles with them; and who, from a combined feeling of religion and honour, look upon the preservation of life itself as slight in comparison with the preservation of a hair of their beards. I next informed them how beards, whiskers, and mustachoes were once honoured in Europe. I told them an anecdote of the great John De Castro, a former governor of Goa, the capital of the Portuguese possessions in India. He being in want of a considerable loan from the citizens of Goa for a military expedition, was at a loss for an adequate security[103]. His first intention was to pledge the bones of his gallant son Don Fernando, who had recently fallen in battle; but finding, on opening the grave, that the carcass was putrid, he offered, as next dear to his personal honour, a lock of his cherished mustachoes. This security was accepted, but immediately returned with more than the amount required; young and old vying with each other who should show most respect to so valuable a pledge.