My horse, and amused myself by looking
at the beautiful colours and grouping of the rocks. Some were of a
glittering pale green; others covered with a whitish, half
transparent substance; others again terminated in numerous oddly
formed angles, and from the distance looked like beautiful groups of
trees. There was so much to see that I really had no time to think
of fear.
About half-way lay a pretty little village in a valley, and beyond
it rose a steep mountain, on the summit of which a charming prospect
of mountain country kept me gazing for a long while.
We did not reach Marand till nearly 8 o'clock; but still with our
heads, necks, and baggage, all safe.
Marand lies in a fertile valley, and is the last Persian town which
I saw, and one of the most agreeable and handsome. It has broad,
clean streets, houses in good repair, and several small squares with
beautiful springs, which are, moreover, surrounded by trees.
My shelter for the night was not so good as the town promised: I
was obliged to share the court with the post-horses. My supper
consisted of some roasted and very salt eggs.
12th August. Our journey for today was as far as Arax, on the
Russian frontier.
