In another hour we came to where a sheer wall of mountain rose above us, to where we could see large fields of snow, and we turned to the right up a narrow, ascending valley, or trough, at the foot. This had a stream running down it, and the sides were thickly covered with gardens and fruit-trees. A little path ran among these, and we gradually ascended, the temperature dropping as we rose. As we went we made a good meal from the hanging mulberries, black and white, which were just ripening. Some miles up, a narrow ravine branched off, as if to go straight into the face of the Aoraman Mountain, and we turned into it. Here the trees were thicker, and the gardens, terraced upon the hill-sides, were divided by stone walls, the alleys between them being often brooks which rushed down to join the main stream. We struggled through the mud, and in places thick undergrowth, for an hour or so, then crossing a bridge of tree-trunks over the stream, came to a rambling stone house set in the hill-side. [Sidenote: BIARA] Above us the valley narrowed yet, a little village hung to its sides, and above, not a quarter of an hour away, it became but a furrow in the great mountain-side--and Persian territory. We could see nothing of the house but a thick stone wall above us, and had to clamour at a small door set in it. This was opened, and upon Hama proclaiming a visitor for the Shaikh ul Islam, we were allowed up the stone staircase upon which it gave. Ascending this we found ourselves upon a broad terrace, the retaining wall of which had stood above our heads a minute before. We crossed it and came to a cistern of rough marble set in the pavement, which was here of the same stone, and seeing that at its edge all shoes were removed, did likewise, and entered from it to a little room at the end of the house. From the far end of this yet a smaller apartment opened, and I was shown into it, and my greeting of “Salamun Alaikum” fell upon the ears of its occupant, the Shaikh ul Islam, who squatted beside a little unglazed window, smoking a cigarette. He returned my greeting, invited me to be seated, and then recognising me, exclaimed: “Ah, it is thou!” I sat down and asked after his health, to which he replied in a surly way, keeping the use of the second person singular, a somewhat unmannerly method of addressing a visitor, and then he relapsed into a silence, which was broken by Hama appearing with the four sugar loaves, which he set down near the door, together with the saddle-bags. The Shaikh ul Islam asked, “What are these?” and Hama replied, somewhat taken aback by the sour tones, that we had brought them as a greeting present, unworthy as they were, but the Shaikh turned to me and with a heavy frown said the rudest thing possible: “Take them back whence they came, consume them yourselves, sell them in Halabja; I have no need of such things, nor are we such friends as to warrant this style of civility.” Then again addressing Hama, he said: