“Early in the reign of the late martyred Shah-in-Shah--may peace be on his soul--the late Amin-ud-dowleh of Káshán assumed the reins of government, and when that came to pass his fellow-citizens implored him to free them from the obligation of serving in the Army. The Minister laid before them a plan whereby they might achieve the end they had in view. Now you must know that Teherán is a mighty capital, and if any one of you doubt the fact let him go there at midday and listen to the booming of the great gun, which shatters the buildings round about, laying whole streets in ruins. Well, one day, when the Shah-in-Shah was driving through the parade square, he saw a squad of Kásháni soldiers weeping over a dead comrade. His Majesty, having made inquiries, was informed that the brave Kásháni had died from the fright caused by the sound of the midday gun. Then the Shah, bursting out laughing, disbanded the whole regiment, giving strict orders to discontinue the enlistment of soldiers from Káshán.” “Why don’t you finish the story, my friend?” asked the Mirza. “The sting lies in the tail thereof. For when the regiment was disbanded the soldiers asked for a Cavalry escort to conduct them safely home.” A roar of laughter followed. “As for the non-enlistment of soldiers from Isfahán,” resumed the Mirza, “take this story from me as its true cause. The soldiers of the Isfahán regiment had not received any pay for a long time, and so they waylaid his Majesty one day when he was driving to the shrine of Shah Abdul Azim and asked him to give them relief. The Secretary for War, fearing revelations and the consequences, approached his Majesty and told him that the soldiers had rebelled in connection with the cursed Bábí Rebellion. The late Shah returned to the Palace at once, and had fourteen of the soldiers executed, and then started on a trip to the hills. When he came back it was to discover the mistake he had made, and, as an act of repentance, he absolved the town from the yoke of soldiery.” The Turk, Mahmud Bey, rose and made to leave the eating-house. Looking the Persian Mirza in the eyes, he said: “My friend, it is better to be seated in a corner, deaf and dumb, than to have a tongue that is not under one’s control. I have the honour to bid you good-bye.” My guide and I followed him, leaving the others to digest his admonition at their leisure, and bent our steps once more in the direction of the Harem for the purpose of visiting the interior of the House of God.