Aradan is another telegraph control station, and Mr. Stagno informs me
that the telegraph-jee is looking forward to my arrival, and is fully
prepared to accommodate me over night; and, furthermore, that all along
the line the people of the telegraph towns are eagerly anticipating the
arrival of the Sahib, with the marvellous vehicle, of which they have
heard such strange stories. Aradan is reached about five o'clock; the
road leading into the village is found excellent wheeling, enabling me to
keep the saddle while following at the heels of a fleet-footed ryot, who
voluntarily guides me to the telegraph-khana. The telegraph-jee is
temporarily absent when I arrive, but his farrash lets me inside the
office yard, spreads a piece of carpet for me to sit on, and with
commendable thoughtfulness shuts out the crowd, who, as usual,
immediately begin to collect. The quickness with which a crowd collects
in a Persian town has to be seen to be fully comprehended. For the space
of half an hour, I sit in solitary state on the carpet, and endure the
wondering gaze and the parrot-like chattering of a thin, long row of
villagers, sitting astride the high mud wall that encloses three sides of
the compound, and during the time find some amusement in watching the
scrambling and quarrelling for position. These irrepressible sight-seers
commenced climbing the wall from the adjoining walls and houses the
moment the farash shut them out of the yard, and in five minutes they are
packed as close as books on a shelf, while others are quarreling noisily
for places; in addition to this, the roof of every building commanding a
view into the chapar-khana compound is swarmed with neck-craning,
chattering people.

Soon the telegraph-jee puts in an appearance; he proves to be an
exceptionally agreeable fellow, and one of the very few Persians one
meets with having blue eyes. He appears to regard it as quite an
understood thing that I am going to remain over night with him, and