The 20th of April saw us in Bombay.  An Italian steamer, the Venezia, was leaving for the Black Sea direct, and in her I secured a passage for Gerome, who was not impressed with our Eastern possessions.  The crowd of curious natives who persistently followed him everywhere may have had something to do with it, for a fur-clad Esquimaux in Piccadilly would not have created a greater sensation than my companion in high boots, black velvet breeches, and red caftan in the busy streets of the great Indian city.  Only a Russian could have existed in that blazing sun with no other protection to the head than the astrachan bonnet, which he obstinately refused to discard.  I saw him safely on board, and something very like a tear came into my trusty little friend’s eyes, as we shook hands and parted, to meet, perhaps, never again.  For a better companion no man could wish.  Plucky, honest as the day, and tender-hearted as a woman was Gerome Realini; and it was with a feeling of loneliness and sincere regret that I watched the grey smoke of the Venezia sink below the blue waters, which were soon to bear me, also, back to England and European civilization.

Has the journey been worth it?  Has the result repaid one for the cold, dirt, and privation of Persia, the torrid heat and long desert marches through Baluchistan?  Perhaps not.  There are some pleasant hours, however, to look back upon.  Kashan, a vision of golden domes and dim, picturesque caravanserais; Ispahan, with its stately Madrassa and blue Zandarood, winding lazily through miles on miles of white and scarlet poppyland; Shiraz, a dream of fair women, poetry, and roses, in its setting of emerald plain, sweet-scented gardens, and cypress trees.  These, at any rate, are bright oases in that somewhat dreary ride from Teheran to the sea.  And then—­nearing India—­the quiet midday siesta after the hot dusty march; the al fresco repast by the light of a glorious sunset, and the welcome rest and fragrant pipe in the cool night air of the silent, starlit desert.

[Footnote A:  Parts of this palace are of great antiquity, as it owes its foundation to the Hindu kings who preceded the Mohammedan dynasty.]

[Footnote B:  The Ameer of Afghanistan.]

[Footnote C:  I am not at liberty to give the name of my authority for these facts.  The reader may rely on their authenticity.]

[Footnote D:  April, 1889.  The boring of the tunnel is now accomplished.]

APPENDIX A.

LIST OF STATIONS AND DISTANCES FROM RESHT TO BUSHIRE, PERSIA.

English
Miles.