“Because it was never used formerly; besides, children always die when they smell it.” “Then do the children of Sulaimania fear sweet or clean smells?” “Yes, they are not accustomed to them. Where did you buy those shoes?” “In Kirkuk.” “Here they are improper, having laces.” He cast about for a new question, then suddenly: “What is in these cases?” “Clothing.” “Have you no things in them to sell? What kind of merchant are you without wares and loads?” “I await samples, no wise man brings new goods unless first proved saleable by samples!” “You speak truth, but what is in your boxes?” “I told you, clothes.” “Where did you buy those trunks?” “In London.” “In London; why did you go there?” “I had business.” “What business?” “My own business; every man has his own business and affairs.” “Quite true; but I came here to tell you, as a friend, that you should not sit in a caravanserai, it is not proper.” My patience came to an end, and I reversed the order of things, and started an inquisition of my own. “Why do you wear a torquoise ring?”[57] I enquired severely. “What?” “I say, why do you wear a torquoise ring?--it is improper in my country.” “I came here as a friend, why do you ask such unkind and ridiculous questions?” he asked in a hurt tone. “Because,” I replied, “in my country of Shiraz there is a saying, ‘He who annoys the stranger by inquisitiveness, seeks after such abuse and ridicule that ill-manners may call forth from the tormented!’” [Sidenote: SULAIMANIAN PLEASANTRY] Frowning with indignation, he gathered his gay cloak about him and departed swiftly, not even deigning to answer my farewell. Five minutes afterwards the caravanserai keeper came to the door somewhat perturbed, and informed me that he who had come as a friend and gone as an enemy was owner of the place and mayor of the town, Ghafur Agha himself. In those first few days there, I found out how the Sulaimanian deems himself entitled to treat the stranger; and to complete the lesson, the day before I left for Halabja, I was hauled up by a seller of enamelled-ware plates, sherbet glasses, matches, and pedlary generally. “Ra wussa!” I heard in stentorian tones behind my ear. Obedient to the summons I stopped, and turning, found myself face to face with an apparently outraged and obviously outrageous individual, who demanded in the fiercest tones the eleven krans I owed him. In the idiom of his native Kurdish, and with no excess of politeness, I denied the debt, and he advanced with half-drawn dagger; but finding that I neither fled nor paid, stopped, a little at a loss as to what his next step should be.