The Snow, Still Falling Fast, Lay Over Two Feet Deep In
The Garden Beneath My Window, While Great White Drifts Barred The
Entrance-Gates Of The Consulate.
About eight o'clock our host made his
appearance, and, waking me from pleasant dreams of sunnier climes,
tried to dissuade me from making a start under such unfavourable
circumstances.
An imperial courier had just arrived from Teheran, and
his report was anything but reassuring. The roads were in a terrible
state; the Kharzan, a long and difficult pass, was blocked with snow,
and the villages on either side of it crowded with weather-bound
caravans.
The prospect, viewed from a warm and comfortable bed, was not
inviting. Anxiety, however, to reach Teheran and definitely map out
my route to India overcame everything, even the temptation to defer a
journey fraught with cold, hunger, and privation, and take it easy for
a few days, with plenty of food and drink, to say nothing of cigars,
books, and newspapers, in the snug cosy rooms of the Consulate. "You
will be sorry for it to-morrow," said the colonel, as he left the room
to give the necessary orders for our departure; adding with a smile,
"I suppose a wilful man must have his way."
There are two modes of travelling in Persia: marching with a caravan,
a slow and tedious process; and riding post, or "chapar." The latter,
being the quickest, is usually adopted by Europeans, but can only
be done on the Government post-roads, of which there are five:
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