and a wide familiarity with the mystic poetry and literature of their own past, constitute a distinctive charm of Persian society. It is as if every Persian heard the words of Hafiz:

"They are calling to thee from the pinnacles of the throne of God

specially ordered from Japan, was a fête not unworthy of Versailles. With that same Sadr Azam I dined six years later in a European capital, it having been intimated to him that a pilgrimage to Mecca would be conducive to his health. To his energy of character the late Shah

When dining once with an English professor of Oriental literature, the latter quoted a line from Saadi. The quotation was immediately taken up by the host and then in turn by each of his Persian guests, till, when the circle of the table had been made, the entire poem had been recited.

Professor Browne has pointed out that this characteristic is not one that would be looked for in the most bigoted sect of a religion preeminent for intolerance, since "a dogmatic theology is notoriously unfavorable to speculation." Whether, as he suggests,1 the Arabian invader, victorious over the ancient political and religious systems of Persia, was powerless to extinguish the Aryan passion for speculation, or whether Islam itself contains the germs of Pantheism, the fact remains that since Hafiz first sung of "the ten and seventy jangling creeds," freedom of thought has been a marked characteristic of the Persian.

The Persian of the lower orders, especially in the north, is not a lovable person, has no reputation for honesty, and is far less manly and faithful than the Kurd or Turk. But those of the higher classes are delightful companions, punctilious in all matters of etiquette, and generally well informed. Many have been educated abroad, or by foreign tutors, are most hospitable, and entertain lavishly in Teheran in European style. The dinner given by the Sadr Azam to the diplomatic corps on the Shah's birthday, followed by a display of fireworks

the Shah's eldest son, the Amin-i-Sultan

a strong personality who held the governorship of several provinces, and had a large following well armed, with artillery

- might claim the succession, he concealed the mortal character of his master's wound, supporting the dead body in a sitting posture during the ten-mile drive from Shah-Abdul-Azim, where the assassination took place, to the palace in Teheran, secured a loan for the payment of the troops, issued ammunition and posted regiments in the bazaar and public squares, telegraphed for the heir apparent at Tabriz, and announced the Shah's death only after the situation was well under control. Exile and sudden

death walk hand in hand with greatness in Persia, and the cruel mutilations which Darius inflicted upon the Median chieftain, recorded in the king's own words in the rock inscription of Behistan, are not uncommon to-day. Hands are still cut off for trivial offenses. All the butchers of Teheran, one day during my residence, were suspended by their heels before their shops for overcharging in their wares; faring, however, better than their confrères of Shiraz, whose tongues were cut out for a like indulgence in high prices. Confronted with the rottenness of officialdom, the suffering and open discontent of the lower classes, and the pressure from without of rivals for the succession, my first impressions of Persia were that the end was at hand. "So I thought," said a resident of twenty years' standing to whom I imparted my opinion, "when I first arrived." And then, reading the narratives of travelers, I found they were of the same mind a century ago. Fortunes are paid for the provincial governorships, and the governors in their

turn dispose of lesser positions of authority. The Embassy at Constantinople commands a high price, owing to the opportunities for exactions from the resident Persian community. The Ministry of Posts and Telegraphs was bought several times during my residence, and at one time it seemed almost impossible to get an unregistered letter in or out of the country. A western thief steals registered mail, a petty method. Under the Persian system of farming out the postal service, it was clearly more advantageous to suppress all ordinary mail matter, for thus registration became imperative, and registration enormously increased the postal revenues.

A small indemnity of a few hundred tomans, secured for a naturalized American illegally arrested, was paid in the form of an order on the governor of the province where the arrest was made. This order became a sub-order on an official of lower grade, and finally a third order upon still another official who, having apparently no one under him upon whom he could shift the burden, after vainly endeavoring to compromise for half the amount, wrung the entire sum from an innocent village utterly foreign to the whole transaction. Ultimately, of course, the burden always falls upon the peasant, from whom is taken "even that which he hath." The soldier in the ranks buys his furlough and pays for the right to eke out his meagre wage by working in the bazaar. Every traveler on the Kum road learns the story of its construction, cited by Curzon as a typical example of administrative methods. This road, which with that to Resht shares the honor of being one of the two carriage roads of Persia, is an important one, for Kum, like Kerbela and Meshed, is a holy city, all devout Persians who can do so taking their dead thither for interment. It is also a place of sanctuary, where criminals, however great, are safe from apprehension. The road is therefore thronged with pilgrims and refugees, and with animals bearing in long narrow

boxes or cloth bundles corpses on their way to burial near the sacred shrine. Some twenty-five years ago a straight caravan road traversed the salt plain between Teheran and Kum. The Sadr Azam, foiled in an effort to purchase the caravanserais on this road from their obstinate owners, constructed at his own expense a new one, which, being some dozen miles longer, the traveling public persistently refused to patronize. He therefore removed the dikes of the neighboring river, flooding the coveted caravanserais and completely obliterating the old road by a sheet of salt water many miles in extent. Thereupon the Minister of Posts and Telegraphs, deeming it more to his advantage to construct a third road than to pay the tolls over that of his rival, built the present post road, which is longer still. The only consolation of the muleteer who plods over those added miles is that the creation of the great salt lake of Kum has possibly increased the rainfall in the vicinity.

The following story, told to me by a brother of the late Shah, carries its own moral. This prince was formerly an important personage, being general-inchief of the army and head of the Teheran police. He fell from favor at the time of his father's assassination when, suspected of ambitious designs, he shut himself up in his Teheran house, where he has since remained neglected. During a call upon him I noticed two superb diamonds on the clasps of his coat, and as I expressed my admiration he asked if I would like to hear their history. Between sips of tea and puffs on the kalian, this in substance was his story:

-

"On going one morning as usual to the palace I found my father in a rage. A large sum in gold and jewels had been stolen in the night from the peacock throne." (This is the throne, incrusted with precious stones and gold, said to have been brought by Nadir Shah in the eighteenth century from the sack of Delhi.) "My father, walking to and fro in great excitement, stopped as I entered.

"You are the commander of my armies and the head of my police,' he said.

"Yes, Sire.'

"Find me then this culprit who has stolen my throne from under my eyes.' "I will try, Sire.'

""Try!' he exclaimed, shaking his longest finger significantly; 'find me some

one.'

"For two days I searched in vain, when I thought of the baker who brought the bread for the palace guard, the only man about the palace who had not been examined. He was summoned, but denied everything. Luckily I observed scratches on his hand. He explained that they were caused by a struggle with a neighbor over the possession of a stick.

"Liar!' I cried, 'thou art the man.' "He threw himself at my feet and confessed. Under the earth floor of his house I found everything, not a stone missing. Overjoyed, Lhastened to the palace. In the garden I met the prime minister returning from an audience. He took me aside and said,

"What are you doing?'

"I am bringing my father his throne. Everything is here in these bags.'

"Why do you do this?' he said. "Your father did not ask for the gold, he asked for some one.'

"No,' I replied, 'I will go to my father;' for I was proud of my success. "Your Majesty,' I said, 'the thief is taken.'

"He smiled, approvingly.

for the stranger, and as for dress Persia furnishes none of those brilliant effects which dazzle the eye in India. Rich and poor wear the plaited frock coat of sombre hues, the absence of a collar producing a slovenly appearance, while the snowy turban of the Arab and the red fez of the Turk are replaced by the black lambskin kolah and the brown felt skull cap of the peasant. Temporary interest, indeed, is aroused by certain curious inversions of procedure. You are amused by the bare-legged, scantily dressed woman who, surprised at the fountain as you ride by, hastens to cover her face and leaves her person exposed. You ask why the carpenter should draw his plane towards him, why the horse is backed into his stall, or the boat dragged stern foremost on the beach. You notice the footnote at the top of the page, and that your morning egg is invariably served with its small end uppermost. But not, certainly, in such trivial matters does the charm of the East reside. We are nearer an explanation when we acknowledge the release from care and artificial conventions which accompanies a relapse to the conditions of a freer and more primitive life. To enjoy an ease, even luxury, of life we could not afford at home, to have a servant for every task, to ride in Bombay or Teheran when we would walk if in Piccadilly, to be free from the burdens of a civilization which has created civic responsibilities and duties to one's fellow men, to have no Young Men's Christian Association to support or fireman's ball to patronize, to be able to play the rôle of self-indulgence to one's heart's content, and be, in truth, a little king, in these things, alas, for many lies the secret of this charm. But there is another and more potent spell, the inexplicable workings of the Oriental mind.

You engage animals for your journey. You are to start at noon. Solemn promises of punctuality are made. These muleteers are dependent upon your pay. One, two, three o'clock arrives, no animals. You mount, impatient, and go

You are hurrying over the Kazan pass to catch the Russian boat at Enzeli. Lost in the snow-bound plain, you seek shelter in a poor village. While waiting for the exhausted horses to eat the food absolutely necessary to further progress, you pace up and down the narrow room at two in the morning, anxiously thinking of the steamer you may miss. All the village is gathered in that room, knowing your anxiety and watching your every movement. At last an old man speaks. "What does he say? Are the horses ready?" you ask your servant. "He says, 'Why does your Excellency walk, when he can sit down?'"

You go to the bazaar to buy. In Cairo or Constantinople, tainted by contact with the West, the shopkeeper, especially the Armenian, will entice you into his net with coffee and soft words. But this Persian merchant, who sits calmly silent on his mat while you examine his wares, who is surely there to sell, and has what you are there to buy, yet makes no effort to tempt you, and even allows you to go your way without showing you the real treasures concealed in the dark recesses of his little shop, which you have vainly sought to discover, — how explain him? The immense advantages secured by the West from the conquests of science and their material results would make it appear impossible that the civilization of the future, even though the seat of empire drift eastward again, should be Oriental in character. Yet the tides of Christian civilization have beaten now for centuries on the shores of the East with a hardly perceptible result. Although

of eastern origin, the present doctrinal forms of Christianity are so characteristically western that it has failed to take root in its primitive home. Christian proselytism, says a recent writer in the Contemporary Review, fails in India because it attempts to make the convert an Occidental, while Mohammedan proselytism succeeds because it leaves the convert an Asiatic. The American missionaries in Persia make no effort among the Moslems. Their purely religious work is confined to the Armenians, who, as belonging to the old Nestorian church, are already nominally Christians. They are an exceptionally fine body of men and women, having I think usually more tact than their English brethren, content to earn by their conduct of life the Moslem tribute, "Your religion is black, but your justice is white;" and to accomplish through the instrumentalities of school and hospital incalculable good.

The political movement now in progress in Persia is not of modern origin. To Professor Browne we owe a better understanding of the intellectual fermentation initiated by the Bab, whose mystic prophecies his followers have made the pretext for practical reform in the existing political and social order. Against this movement the nominal government, that is the Kajar dynasty, can offer no serious resistance. It has done nothing for the development of the country's resources or for the betterment of the masses. Its entire record is one of extortion and oppression, and its reward is the hearty execration of its subjects. The real opponent of reform is the priesthood, which has lost none of its authority or prestige with the people, and before whose power the government has in every conflict gone down in defeat. All questions of interior policy are, however, overshadowed by the larger question of foreign control; for whether England and Russia come to blows or mutual agreement over their respective spheres of influence, the ultimate future of Persia is in their hands.

YOUNG Arnold Jacoby stood at the window of his father's study, idly watching the steady stream of delegates to the national convention, of which Bishop Jacoby was president, as they entered the church next door. The bishop, who was also President of the Board of Foreign Missions, leaned back in his chair, his arms folded, his eyes on a telegram on the table before him. He looked more like a successful business man than a clergyman, in spite of his high-cut vest and white tie, which emphasized the shrewd, practical lines in his handsome face, and he conducted the business of the church with judgment which would have done credit to a captain of industry. He often congratulated himself that he had learned early in life to distrust impulse as a principle of action. Because of it he was now bishop instead of home missionary in Montana. He was a good man, but he allowed no illusions to blind him to actualities. He believed in the Christian religion as the fine flower of all religions, which was likely, however, in its turn to be supplanted by something better. Nature was substituting altruism now for the survival of the fittest as a means for the continuance of the race. What her final purpose was he did not know, no one could. It was his business to manage successfully the affairs of the church, using the enthusiasm and devotion of other men as much as possible, but with thankfulness that to him had been vouchsafed a broader outlook upon life.

He looked up pleasantly now as Arnold turned and faced him. He regarded Arnold, cultivated, already learned, and always charming, as one of the great achievements of his life. Arnold, too, looked things straight in the face. If his

eyes were eager, it was the eagerness of youth and not that of fanatic faith in ideas which would some day play him false.

"Are you really going to give up Africa?" Arnold asked. "Doctor Meynell told me that Bastian landed in New York last night."

His father held out to him the telegram at which he had been staring. It read:

Roberts cables girls school disbanded mission set on fire is sailing.

J. FORSTER.

"Roberts was sent out to hold the fort while Bastian had a furlough, was n't he?"

The bishop nodded.

"Looks rather cowardly, does n't it? "No." The bishop answered with decision. "Bastian has sent only the most meagre reports. This sort of thing may have happened before. It's only since Roberts went out that we've learned any real facts about the mission."

"Rather game, was n't it, of old Bastian to hold his tongue about it? How Idid he stick it out?"

"He has some theories like Roe had about native remedies for fever, and he's lived though Roe died. But it was n't fair to the church. We've been pouring lives and money into Africa for years, supposing we had a prosperous mission, and it was disturbing to find that it consisted of one ramshackle building and that the devoted converts were likely at any time to burn that and revert to the bush." "Did they ever revert while Bastian was there?

"Oh, I guess so."

"But he seems to have got them back." "Yes." The bishop rose and gathered