CHAPTER XXIII.THE MOST MISERABLE OF ALL CHRISTMAS DAYS—RACE BETWEEN WHEEL AND SULTAN’S CAVALRYMEN—DESERTED BY A COWARDLY DRIVER.We lingered three days at Kashan before the preliminary treatment of my wife’s feet permitted us to proceed. Here we spent our Christmas Day, dejected and home-sick. In vain we searched the bazaars for a turkey, goose, or duck for our Christmas dinner, but as if to recompense us for our earnest efforts to celebrate, a ragged coolie brought us a rabbit, and with turnips in lieu of sweet potatoes, we endeavored to deceive ourselves into believing we had enjoyed a good old-fashioned Southern feast. We left Kashan in the native “khagvar,” two shallow boxes placed on a mule’s back, the boxes laden equally to balance the load on either side. We placed Mrs. McIlrath on one side, her bicycle, luggage case and bedding in the opposite box, and on Tuesday, Dec. 28, resumed our journey. The first night of our stop on the way to Koom the owner of the khadgavar refused to continue on the journey without an increase to the contract price for the rent of his mule. Mrs. McIlrath’s condition would not admit of a delay, and I was compelled to resort to the extreme measures used in China in such a case, and with success, for within ten minutes we were again on the road. While stopping at a tea house for refreshments on Dec. 29, our little caravan was overtaken by three of the Sultan’s cavalrymen. They were inclined to twit us on the effort required to propel bicycles, and I challenged them for a race. Although Mrs. McIlrath required my attention hourly, she entertains such contempt for those who despise cycling, that it was at her request that I left her behind to engage in the test of speed with the horse-soldiers. I left the three troopers easily in the rear after their steeds had begun to show signs of fatigue, never for an instant slackening my pace until I flashed intoa village eight miles from the starting point. I had regained my composure, smoked several cigarettes and idled away half an hour ere the horsemen appeared on the brow of a hill one mile away. Though the riders were breathless, their horses reeking with foam, when they halted in front of the tea house, not a look or a word betrayed their chagrin, and theyprofferedtea and cigarettes with good grace but with great dignity. Not satisfied with the one defeat, the captain demanded that I overtake him ere the next stage. They had a good half hour’s start of me, because I waited for Mrs. McIlrath’s arrival. As soon as she assured me of her comfortable condition, I sprang into saddle, and settled down into a gait which carried me nine miles into an open valley, just in time to sight the three horsemen and the city of Pasangoon in the distance. The horsemen must have sighted me as soon as I did them, for when I next looked up the trio had separated and were strung along the road in Indian file. I strained every muscle to the utmost, but the up-grade, the load of camera, revolvers, luggage case and monkey had been too great, and I only succeeded in overtaking one of the trio. The other two had not dismounted when I reached the Chapar Khaneh, and were loud in their greeting and praise of the “asp-i-chubee,” as they called the bicycle.MR. McILRATH AND PARTY AT DASHEN TAPPI.—(See Page 121.)MR. McILRATH AND PARTY AT DASHEN TAPPI.—(See Page121.)We were up before daybreak Dec. 30, dismayed to find the ground covered with snow, and pushed into Koom by nightfall, just in time to escape the most violent end of a storm, which delayed us for two days. Proceeding by caravan was out of the question, and as Koom afforded nothing in the medicine line, we were obliged to make the remaining stage by “diligence” to Teheran. Though the trip can be accomplished with ease in less than twenty-four hours, the exorbitant sum of $26 was demanded for fare. The conveyance which bears such a high-sounding name is simply a prairie schooner, hauled by four horses ranged abreast. It is a “terror” as a conveyance, the jolts and jars sending one high into the air, making conversation impossible, while the rattle of the crazy vehicle is like that of volleys of musketry. When we had accomplished about six miles the driver deliberately guided the horses into a deep snow-drift, informed us that progress was impossible, and threats, argument and persuasion would not induce him to proceed. Finding he would not yield, we became equally stubborn, and would not allow him to return, as he proposed, until the next day, when he predicted the passage would be more probable. Unfortunately Mrs. McIlrath and I were weary, and while we slept the cowardly driver cut the horses and quietly decamped. How long we should have remained in this predicament is difficult to conjecture, had not a carriage arrived from the north, containing as passengers Mr. J. P. Whiton Stuart, of New York, and his secretary. Mr. Stuart at oncevolunteered to send for the horses which had abandoned our vehicle, effect a change of driver and animals and thus help us on our way. This was done, but not until the afternoon had so far advanced that only one stage was accomplished in the entire day.We passed a miserable night Jan. 2, 1898, in the stables of the Post House in Hassinabad. Getting an early start we arrived at Kah-rizak,twenty-six miles north, in the afternoon. It was then but a short ride to the mosque and shrine called “Shah Abdullah Azim,” where we boarded a steam railway for Teheran, eight miles ahead. We were then in the capital of Persia, snow-bound and unable to proceed, even had weather permitted, on account of Mrs. McIlrath’s feet, but thankful, for Teheran afforded hospitals and surgeons, and best of all, American ones.The city of Teheran has been the imperial residence since Shah Aga Mohammed Kahn, founder of the Khajar dynasty, which now reigns, chose to elevate the insignificant village to a place of royal abode, and bestowed upon it the titles, “City of the Shadow of God,” and “Footstool of the King of Kings.” We visited the magnificent palace of the reigning Shah, Muzaffaru-ud-din, and also made a tour to Dashen Tappi, one of his favorite resorts. In this latter tour our party consisted of Mr. Black, Mr. Morris and myself, three cyclists; two horsemen, Messrs. Warner and DeMunk; and Misses DeMunk and Warner, and Mrs. McIlrath, entrusted to the care of a Cossack, who drove a pair of mules attached to a heavy Russian carriage. Owing to the condition of Mrs. McIlrath’s extremities we were unable to accept many invitations, but despite the fact, we left Teheran greatly indebted to the members of the European Colony there. When we departed on Feb. 25, it was by the carriage, as cycling to Resht was entirely out of the question, the roads being deep with snow and the passes in the mountains ice-bound. There is little to write of the journey in Persia. Scenery was either a vast plain, studded with sagebrush, or the panorama was that of a barren, dull rock which had neither rugged beauty nor picturesque formation. Three days of this monotonous travel brought us to Kasbin, where we were delayed by more wretched weather until March 6. More snow fell directly we took to the road, our path often taking us along the edge of a precipice the entire slope of which, above and below us, was glaring ice. A slip or a false step meant certain death, and each instant that an iron-shod hoof grated and crushed, we expected to hear a wild shriek and the crash of a fatal fall. At one point on the journey we passed a party of laborers at work rescuing from the bottom of the gorge a horse and rider, both stiff in death. This was but one of the many horrors on the road to Resht, which we reached on March 13. The city affords two hotels, both conducted by Frenchmen, and as we inquired for the best, we were directed to onedesignated as the Hotel Europe. I would recommend any reader contemplating a trip to Resht to apply for lodgings at the other hotel. Our knowledge of the French language was limited, but though we had absorbed sufficient to enable us to eat heartily and sleep soundly in French, we felt certain of success at the Europe Hotel. The avaricious design of the frowsy proprietor foiled us, however, and as his rates were $8 a day, we made our stay in the city as short as possible.
CHAPTER XXIII.THE MOST MISERABLE OF ALL CHRISTMAS DAYS—RACE BETWEEN WHEEL AND SULTAN’S CAVALRYMEN—DESERTED BY A COWARDLY DRIVER.We lingered three days at Kashan before the preliminary treatment of my wife’s feet permitted us to proceed. Here we spent our Christmas Day, dejected and home-sick. In vain we searched the bazaars for a turkey, goose, or duck for our Christmas dinner, but as if to recompense us for our earnest efforts to celebrate, a ragged coolie brought us a rabbit, and with turnips in lieu of sweet potatoes, we endeavored to deceive ourselves into believing we had enjoyed a good old-fashioned Southern feast. We left Kashan in the native “khagvar,” two shallow boxes placed on a mule’s back, the boxes laden equally to balance the load on either side. We placed Mrs. McIlrath on one side, her bicycle, luggage case and bedding in the opposite box, and on Tuesday, Dec. 28, resumed our journey. The first night of our stop on the way to Koom the owner of the khadgavar refused to continue on the journey without an increase to the contract price for the rent of his mule. Mrs. McIlrath’s condition would not admit of a delay, and I was compelled to resort to the extreme measures used in China in such a case, and with success, for within ten minutes we were again on the road. While stopping at a tea house for refreshments on Dec. 29, our little caravan was overtaken by three of the Sultan’s cavalrymen. They were inclined to twit us on the effort required to propel bicycles, and I challenged them for a race. Although Mrs. McIlrath required my attention hourly, she entertains such contempt for those who despise cycling, that it was at her request that I left her behind to engage in the test of speed with the horse-soldiers. I left the three troopers easily in the rear after their steeds had begun to show signs of fatigue, never for an instant slackening my pace until I flashed intoa village eight miles from the starting point. I had regained my composure, smoked several cigarettes and idled away half an hour ere the horsemen appeared on the brow of a hill one mile away. Though the riders were breathless, their horses reeking with foam, when they halted in front of the tea house, not a look or a word betrayed their chagrin, and theyprofferedtea and cigarettes with good grace but with great dignity. Not satisfied with the one defeat, the captain demanded that I overtake him ere the next stage. They had a good half hour’s start of me, because I waited for Mrs. McIlrath’s arrival. As soon as she assured me of her comfortable condition, I sprang into saddle, and settled down into a gait which carried me nine miles into an open valley, just in time to sight the three horsemen and the city of Pasangoon in the distance. The horsemen must have sighted me as soon as I did them, for when I next looked up the trio had separated and were strung along the road in Indian file. I strained every muscle to the utmost, but the up-grade, the load of camera, revolvers, luggage case and monkey had been too great, and I only succeeded in overtaking one of the trio. The other two had not dismounted when I reached the Chapar Khaneh, and were loud in their greeting and praise of the “asp-i-chubee,” as they called the bicycle.MR. McILRATH AND PARTY AT DASHEN TAPPI.—(See Page 121.)MR. McILRATH AND PARTY AT DASHEN TAPPI.—(See Page121.)We were up before daybreak Dec. 30, dismayed to find the ground covered with snow, and pushed into Koom by nightfall, just in time to escape the most violent end of a storm, which delayed us for two days. Proceeding by caravan was out of the question, and as Koom afforded nothing in the medicine line, we were obliged to make the remaining stage by “diligence” to Teheran. Though the trip can be accomplished with ease in less than twenty-four hours, the exorbitant sum of $26 was demanded for fare. The conveyance which bears such a high-sounding name is simply a prairie schooner, hauled by four horses ranged abreast. It is a “terror” as a conveyance, the jolts and jars sending one high into the air, making conversation impossible, while the rattle of the crazy vehicle is like that of volleys of musketry. When we had accomplished about six miles the driver deliberately guided the horses into a deep snow-drift, informed us that progress was impossible, and threats, argument and persuasion would not induce him to proceed. Finding he would not yield, we became equally stubborn, and would not allow him to return, as he proposed, until the next day, when he predicted the passage would be more probable. Unfortunately Mrs. McIlrath and I were weary, and while we slept the cowardly driver cut the horses and quietly decamped. How long we should have remained in this predicament is difficult to conjecture, had not a carriage arrived from the north, containing as passengers Mr. J. P. Whiton Stuart, of New York, and his secretary. Mr. Stuart at oncevolunteered to send for the horses which had abandoned our vehicle, effect a change of driver and animals and thus help us on our way. This was done, but not until the afternoon had so far advanced that only one stage was accomplished in the entire day.We passed a miserable night Jan. 2, 1898, in the stables of the Post House in Hassinabad. Getting an early start we arrived at Kah-rizak,twenty-six miles north, in the afternoon. It was then but a short ride to the mosque and shrine called “Shah Abdullah Azim,” where we boarded a steam railway for Teheran, eight miles ahead. We were then in the capital of Persia, snow-bound and unable to proceed, even had weather permitted, on account of Mrs. McIlrath’s feet, but thankful, for Teheran afforded hospitals and surgeons, and best of all, American ones.The city of Teheran has been the imperial residence since Shah Aga Mohammed Kahn, founder of the Khajar dynasty, which now reigns, chose to elevate the insignificant village to a place of royal abode, and bestowed upon it the titles, “City of the Shadow of God,” and “Footstool of the King of Kings.” We visited the magnificent palace of the reigning Shah, Muzaffaru-ud-din, and also made a tour to Dashen Tappi, one of his favorite resorts. In this latter tour our party consisted of Mr. Black, Mr. Morris and myself, three cyclists; two horsemen, Messrs. Warner and DeMunk; and Misses DeMunk and Warner, and Mrs. McIlrath, entrusted to the care of a Cossack, who drove a pair of mules attached to a heavy Russian carriage. Owing to the condition of Mrs. McIlrath’s extremities we were unable to accept many invitations, but despite the fact, we left Teheran greatly indebted to the members of the European Colony there. When we departed on Feb. 25, it was by the carriage, as cycling to Resht was entirely out of the question, the roads being deep with snow and the passes in the mountains ice-bound. There is little to write of the journey in Persia. Scenery was either a vast plain, studded with sagebrush, or the panorama was that of a barren, dull rock which had neither rugged beauty nor picturesque formation. Three days of this monotonous travel brought us to Kasbin, where we were delayed by more wretched weather until March 6. More snow fell directly we took to the road, our path often taking us along the edge of a precipice the entire slope of which, above and below us, was glaring ice. A slip or a false step meant certain death, and each instant that an iron-shod hoof grated and crushed, we expected to hear a wild shriek and the crash of a fatal fall. At one point on the journey we passed a party of laborers at work rescuing from the bottom of the gorge a horse and rider, both stiff in death. This was but one of the many horrors on the road to Resht, which we reached on March 13. The city affords two hotels, both conducted by Frenchmen, and as we inquired for the best, we were directed to onedesignated as the Hotel Europe. I would recommend any reader contemplating a trip to Resht to apply for lodgings at the other hotel. Our knowledge of the French language was limited, but though we had absorbed sufficient to enable us to eat heartily and sleep soundly in French, we felt certain of success at the Europe Hotel. The avaricious design of the frowsy proprietor foiled us, however, and as his rates were $8 a day, we made our stay in the city as short as possible.
CHAPTER XXIII.THE MOST MISERABLE OF ALL CHRISTMAS DAYS—RACE BETWEEN WHEEL AND SULTAN’S CAVALRYMEN—DESERTED BY A COWARDLY DRIVER.
THE MOST MISERABLE OF ALL CHRISTMAS DAYS—RACE BETWEEN WHEEL AND SULTAN’S CAVALRYMEN—DESERTED BY A COWARDLY DRIVER.
THE MOST MISERABLE OF ALL CHRISTMAS DAYS—RACE BETWEEN WHEEL AND SULTAN’S CAVALRYMEN—DESERTED BY A COWARDLY DRIVER.
We lingered three days at Kashan before the preliminary treatment of my wife’s feet permitted us to proceed. Here we spent our Christmas Day, dejected and home-sick. In vain we searched the bazaars for a turkey, goose, or duck for our Christmas dinner, but as if to recompense us for our earnest efforts to celebrate, a ragged coolie brought us a rabbit, and with turnips in lieu of sweet potatoes, we endeavored to deceive ourselves into believing we had enjoyed a good old-fashioned Southern feast. We left Kashan in the native “khagvar,” two shallow boxes placed on a mule’s back, the boxes laden equally to balance the load on either side. We placed Mrs. McIlrath on one side, her bicycle, luggage case and bedding in the opposite box, and on Tuesday, Dec. 28, resumed our journey. The first night of our stop on the way to Koom the owner of the khadgavar refused to continue on the journey without an increase to the contract price for the rent of his mule. Mrs. McIlrath’s condition would not admit of a delay, and I was compelled to resort to the extreme measures used in China in such a case, and with success, for within ten minutes we were again on the road. While stopping at a tea house for refreshments on Dec. 29, our little caravan was overtaken by three of the Sultan’s cavalrymen. They were inclined to twit us on the effort required to propel bicycles, and I challenged them for a race. Although Mrs. McIlrath required my attention hourly, she entertains such contempt for those who despise cycling, that it was at her request that I left her behind to engage in the test of speed with the horse-soldiers. I left the three troopers easily in the rear after their steeds had begun to show signs of fatigue, never for an instant slackening my pace until I flashed intoa village eight miles from the starting point. I had regained my composure, smoked several cigarettes and idled away half an hour ere the horsemen appeared on the brow of a hill one mile away. Though the riders were breathless, their horses reeking with foam, when they halted in front of the tea house, not a look or a word betrayed their chagrin, and theyprofferedtea and cigarettes with good grace but with great dignity. Not satisfied with the one defeat, the captain demanded that I overtake him ere the next stage. They had a good half hour’s start of me, because I waited for Mrs. McIlrath’s arrival. As soon as she assured me of her comfortable condition, I sprang into saddle, and settled down into a gait which carried me nine miles into an open valley, just in time to sight the three horsemen and the city of Pasangoon in the distance. The horsemen must have sighted me as soon as I did them, for when I next looked up the trio had separated and were strung along the road in Indian file. I strained every muscle to the utmost, but the up-grade, the load of camera, revolvers, luggage case and monkey had been too great, and I only succeeded in overtaking one of the trio. The other two had not dismounted when I reached the Chapar Khaneh, and were loud in their greeting and praise of the “asp-i-chubee,” as they called the bicycle.MR. McILRATH AND PARTY AT DASHEN TAPPI.—(See Page 121.)MR. McILRATH AND PARTY AT DASHEN TAPPI.—(See Page121.)We were up before daybreak Dec. 30, dismayed to find the ground covered with snow, and pushed into Koom by nightfall, just in time to escape the most violent end of a storm, which delayed us for two days. Proceeding by caravan was out of the question, and as Koom afforded nothing in the medicine line, we were obliged to make the remaining stage by “diligence” to Teheran. Though the trip can be accomplished with ease in less than twenty-four hours, the exorbitant sum of $26 was demanded for fare. The conveyance which bears such a high-sounding name is simply a prairie schooner, hauled by four horses ranged abreast. It is a “terror” as a conveyance, the jolts and jars sending one high into the air, making conversation impossible, while the rattle of the crazy vehicle is like that of volleys of musketry. When we had accomplished about six miles the driver deliberately guided the horses into a deep snow-drift, informed us that progress was impossible, and threats, argument and persuasion would not induce him to proceed. Finding he would not yield, we became equally stubborn, and would not allow him to return, as he proposed, until the next day, when he predicted the passage would be more probable. Unfortunately Mrs. McIlrath and I were weary, and while we slept the cowardly driver cut the horses and quietly decamped. How long we should have remained in this predicament is difficult to conjecture, had not a carriage arrived from the north, containing as passengers Mr. J. P. Whiton Stuart, of New York, and his secretary. Mr. Stuart at oncevolunteered to send for the horses which had abandoned our vehicle, effect a change of driver and animals and thus help us on our way. This was done, but not until the afternoon had so far advanced that only one stage was accomplished in the entire day.We passed a miserable night Jan. 2, 1898, in the stables of the Post House in Hassinabad. Getting an early start we arrived at Kah-rizak,twenty-six miles north, in the afternoon. It was then but a short ride to the mosque and shrine called “Shah Abdullah Azim,” where we boarded a steam railway for Teheran, eight miles ahead. We were then in the capital of Persia, snow-bound and unable to proceed, even had weather permitted, on account of Mrs. McIlrath’s feet, but thankful, for Teheran afforded hospitals and surgeons, and best of all, American ones.The city of Teheran has been the imperial residence since Shah Aga Mohammed Kahn, founder of the Khajar dynasty, which now reigns, chose to elevate the insignificant village to a place of royal abode, and bestowed upon it the titles, “City of the Shadow of God,” and “Footstool of the King of Kings.” We visited the magnificent palace of the reigning Shah, Muzaffaru-ud-din, and also made a tour to Dashen Tappi, one of his favorite resorts. In this latter tour our party consisted of Mr. Black, Mr. Morris and myself, three cyclists; two horsemen, Messrs. Warner and DeMunk; and Misses DeMunk and Warner, and Mrs. McIlrath, entrusted to the care of a Cossack, who drove a pair of mules attached to a heavy Russian carriage. Owing to the condition of Mrs. McIlrath’s extremities we were unable to accept many invitations, but despite the fact, we left Teheran greatly indebted to the members of the European Colony there. When we departed on Feb. 25, it was by the carriage, as cycling to Resht was entirely out of the question, the roads being deep with snow and the passes in the mountains ice-bound. There is little to write of the journey in Persia. Scenery was either a vast plain, studded with sagebrush, or the panorama was that of a barren, dull rock which had neither rugged beauty nor picturesque formation. Three days of this monotonous travel brought us to Kasbin, where we were delayed by more wretched weather until March 6. More snow fell directly we took to the road, our path often taking us along the edge of a precipice the entire slope of which, above and below us, was glaring ice. A slip or a false step meant certain death, and each instant that an iron-shod hoof grated and crushed, we expected to hear a wild shriek and the crash of a fatal fall. At one point on the journey we passed a party of laborers at work rescuing from the bottom of the gorge a horse and rider, both stiff in death. This was but one of the many horrors on the road to Resht, which we reached on March 13. The city affords two hotels, both conducted by Frenchmen, and as we inquired for the best, we were directed to onedesignated as the Hotel Europe. I would recommend any reader contemplating a trip to Resht to apply for lodgings at the other hotel. Our knowledge of the French language was limited, but though we had absorbed sufficient to enable us to eat heartily and sleep soundly in French, we felt certain of success at the Europe Hotel. The avaricious design of the frowsy proprietor foiled us, however, and as his rates were $8 a day, we made our stay in the city as short as possible.
We lingered three days at Kashan before the preliminary treatment of my wife’s feet permitted us to proceed. Here we spent our Christmas Day, dejected and home-sick. In vain we searched the bazaars for a turkey, goose, or duck for our Christmas dinner, but as if to recompense us for our earnest efforts to celebrate, a ragged coolie brought us a rabbit, and with turnips in lieu of sweet potatoes, we endeavored to deceive ourselves into believing we had enjoyed a good old-fashioned Southern feast. We left Kashan in the native “khagvar,” two shallow boxes placed on a mule’s back, the boxes laden equally to balance the load on either side. We placed Mrs. McIlrath on one side, her bicycle, luggage case and bedding in the opposite box, and on Tuesday, Dec. 28, resumed our journey. The first night of our stop on the way to Koom the owner of the khadgavar refused to continue on the journey without an increase to the contract price for the rent of his mule. Mrs. McIlrath’s condition would not admit of a delay, and I was compelled to resort to the extreme measures used in China in such a case, and with success, for within ten minutes we were again on the road. While stopping at a tea house for refreshments on Dec. 29, our little caravan was overtaken by three of the Sultan’s cavalrymen. They were inclined to twit us on the effort required to propel bicycles, and I challenged them for a race. Although Mrs. McIlrath required my attention hourly, she entertains such contempt for those who despise cycling, that it was at her request that I left her behind to engage in the test of speed with the horse-soldiers. I left the three troopers easily in the rear after their steeds had begun to show signs of fatigue, never for an instant slackening my pace until I flashed intoa village eight miles from the starting point. I had regained my composure, smoked several cigarettes and idled away half an hour ere the horsemen appeared on the brow of a hill one mile away. Though the riders were breathless, their horses reeking with foam, when they halted in front of the tea house, not a look or a word betrayed their chagrin, and theyprofferedtea and cigarettes with good grace but with great dignity. Not satisfied with the one defeat, the captain demanded that I overtake him ere the next stage. They had a good half hour’s start of me, because I waited for Mrs. McIlrath’s arrival. As soon as she assured me of her comfortable condition, I sprang into saddle, and settled down into a gait which carried me nine miles into an open valley, just in time to sight the three horsemen and the city of Pasangoon in the distance. The horsemen must have sighted me as soon as I did them, for when I next looked up the trio had separated and were strung along the road in Indian file. I strained every muscle to the utmost, but the up-grade, the load of camera, revolvers, luggage case and monkey had been too great, and I only succeeded in overtaking one of the trio. The other two had not dismounted when I reached the Chapar Khaneh, and were loud in their greeting and praise of the “asp-i-chubee,” as they called the bicycle.
MR. McILRATH AND PARTY AT DASHEN TAPPI.—(See Page 121.)MR. McILRATH AND PARTY AT DASHEN TAPPI.—(See Page121.)
MR. McILRATH AND PARTY AT DASHEN TAPPI.—(See Page121.)
We were up before daybreak Dec. 30, dismayed to find the ground covered with snow, and pushed into Koom by nightfall, just in time to escape the most violent end of a storm, which delayed us for two days. Proceeding by caravan was out of the question, and as Koom afforded nothing in the medicine line, we were obliged to make the remaining stage by “diligence” to Teheran. Though the trip can be accomplished with ease in less than twenty-four hours, the exorbitant sum of $26 was demanded for fare. The conveyance which bears such a high-sounding name is simply a prairie schooner, hauled by four horses ranged abreast. It is a “terror” as a conveyance, the jolts and jars sending one high into the air, making conversation impossible, while the rattle of the crazy vehicle is like that of volleys of musketry. When we had accomplished about six miles the driver deliberately guided the horses into a deep snow-drift, informed us that progress was impossible, and threats, argument and persuasion would not induce him to proceed. Finding he would not yield, we became equally stubborn, and would not allow him to return, as he proposed, until the next day, when he predicted the passage would be more probable. Unfortunately Mrs. McIlrath and I were weary, and while we slept the cowardly driver cut the horses and quietly decamped. How long we should have remained in this predicament is difficult to conjecture, had not a carriage arrived from the north, containing as passengers Mr. J. P. Whiton Stuart, of New York, and his secretary. Mr. Stuart at oncevolunteered to send for the horses which had abandoned our vehicle, effect a change of driver and animals and thus help us on our way. This was done, but not until the afternoon had so far advanced that only one stage was accomplished in the entire day.
We passed a miserable night Jan. 2, 1898, in the stables of the Post House in Hassinabad. Getting an early start we arrived at Kah-rizak,twenty-six miles north, in the afternoon. It was then but a short ride to the mosque and shrine called “Shah Abdullah Azim,” where we boarded a steam railway for Teheran, eight miles ahead. We were then in the capital of Persia, snow-bound and unable to proceed, even had weather permitted, on account of Mrs. McIlrath’s feet, but thankful, for Teheran afforded hospitals and surgeons, and best of all, American ones.
The city of Teheran has been the imperial residence since Shah Aga Mohammed Kahn, founder of the Khajar dynasty, which now reigns, chose to elevate the insignificant village to a place of royal abode, and bestowed upon it the titles, “City of the Shadow of God,” and “Footstool of the King of Kings.” We visited the magnificent palace of the reigning Shah, Muzaffaru-ud-din, and also made a tour to Dashen Tappi, one of his favorite resorts. In this latter tour our party consisted of Mr. Black, Mr. Morris and myself, three cyclists; two horsemen, Messrs. Warner and DeMunk; and Misses DeMunk and Warner, and Mrs. McIlrath, entrusted to the care of a Cossack, who drove a pair of mules attached to a heavy Russian carriage. Owing to the condition of Mrs. McIlrath’s extremities we were unable to accept many invitations, but despite the fact, we left Teheran greatly indebted to the members of the European Colony there. When we departed on Feb. 25, it was by the carriage, as cycling to Resht was entirely out of the question, the roads being deep with snow and the passes in the mountains ice-bound. There is little to write of the journey in Persia. Scenery was either a vast plain, studded with sagebrush, or the panorama was that of a barren, dull rock which had neither rugged beauty nor picturesque formation. Three days of this monotonous travel brought us to Kasbin, where we were delayed by more wretched weather until March 6. More snow fell directly we took to the road, our path often taking us along the edge of a precipice the entire slope of which, above and below us, was glaring ice. A slip or a false step meant certain death, and each instant that an iron-shod hoof grated and crushed, we expected to hear a wild shriek and the crash of a fatal fall. At one point on the journey we passed a party of laborers at work rescuing from the bottom of the gorge a horse and rider, both stiff in death. This was but one of the many horrors on the road to Resht, which we reached on March 13. The city affords two hotels, both conducted by Frenchmen, and as we inquired for the best, we were directed to onedesignated as the Hotel Europe. I would recommend any reader contemplating a trip to Resht to apply for lodgings at the other hotel. Our knowledge of the French language was limited, but though we had absorbed sufficient to enable us to eat heartily and sleep soundly in French, we felt certain of success at the Europe Hotel. The avaricious design of the frowsy proprietor foiled us, however, and as his rates were $8 a day, we made our stay in the city as short as possible.