I looked wistfully towards the land,—­I would gladly have visited Persia.  The captain, however, advised me not to do so in the dress I wore; because, as he informed me, the Persians were not so good-natured as the Hindoos, and the appearance of a European woman in this remote district was too uncommon an event; I might probably be greeted with a shower of stones.

Fortunately there was a young man on board who was half English and half Persian (his father, an Englishman, had married an Armenian from Teheran), and spoke both languages equally well.  I asked him to take me on shore, which he very readily did.  He conducted me to the bazaar, and through several streets.  The people indeed flocked from all sides and gazed at me, but did not offer me the slightest annoyance.

The houses here are small, and built in the Oriental style, with few windows, and terraced roofs.  The streets are narrow, dirty, and seemingly uninhabited; the bazaar only appeared busy.  The bakers here prepare their bread in the most simple manner, and, indeed, immediately in the presence of their customers:  they knead some meal with water into a dough, in a wooden dish, separate this into small pieces, which they squeeze and draw out with their hands, until they are formed into large thin flakes, which are smeared over with salt water, and stuck into the inner side of a round tube.  These tubes are made of clay, are about eighteen inches in diameter, and twenty-two in length; they are sunk one half in the ground, and furnished with an air-draft below.  Wood-charcoal is burnt inside the tube at the bottom.  The cakes are baked on both sides at once; at the back by the red-hot tube, and in front by the charcoal fire.  I had half-a-dozen of such cakes baked—­when eaten warm, they are very good.

It is easy to distinguish the Persians from the Arabs, of whom there are many here.  The former are larger, and more strongly built; their skin is whiter, their features coarse and powerful, and their general appearance rude and wild.  Their dress resembles that of the Mahomedans.  Many wear turbans, others a conical cap of black Astrachan, from a foot to one and a half high.

I was told of so great an act of gratitude of the young man, Mr. William Hebworth, who accompanied me to Bandr-Abas, that I cannot omit to mention it.  At the age of sixteen he went from Persia to Bombay, where he met with the kindest reception in the house of a friend of his father’s, by whom he was assisted in every way, and even obtained an appointment through his interest.  One day his patron, who was married, and the father of four children, had the misfortune to be thrown from his horse, and died from the effects of the fall.  Mr. Hebworth made the truly noble resolve of marrying the widow, who was much older than himself, and, instead of property, possessed only her four children, that he might in this way pay the debt of gratitude which he owed to his deceased benefactor.