opportunity of seeing something of what bicycle travelling is like.  The tardy monarch keeps myself and a large crowd of attendants waiting a full hour at the gate, ere he puts in an appearance.  Among the crowd is the Shah’s chief shikaree (hunter), a grizzled old veteran, beneath whose rifle many a forest prowler of the Caspian slope of Mazanderau has been laid low.  The shikaree, upon seeing me ride, and not being able to comprehend how one can possibly maintain the equilibrium, exclaims:  “Oh, ayab Ingilis.” (Oh, the wonderful English!) Everybody’s face is wreathed in smiles at the old shikaree’s exclamation of wonderment, and when I jokingly advise him that he ought to do his hunting for the future on a bicycle, and again mount and ride with hands off handles to demonstrate the possibility of shooting from the saddle, the delighted crowd of horsemen burst out in hearty laughter, many of them exclaiming, “Bravo! bravo!” At length the word goes round that the Shah is coming.  Everybody dismounts, and as the royal carriage drives up, every Persian bows his head nearly to the ground, remaining in that highly submissive attitude until the carriage halts and the Shah summons myself and the interpreter to his side.  I am the only Ferenghi in the party, my two English companions having returned to the city, intending to rejoin me when I separate from the Shah.

The Shah impresses one as being more intelligent than the average Persian of the higher class; and although they are, as a nation, inordinately inquisitive, no Persian has taken a more lively interest in the bicycle than His Majesty seems to take, as, through his interpreter, he plys me with all manner of questions.  Among other questions he asks if the Koords didn’t molest me when coming through Koordistan without an escort; and upon hearing the story of my adventure with the Koordish shepherds between Ovahjik and Khoi, he seems greatly amused.  Another large party of horsemen arrived with the Shah, swelling the company to perhaps two hundred attendants.  Pedaling alongside the carriage, in the best position for the Shah to see, we proceed toward Doshan Tepe, the crowd of horsemen following, some behind and others careering over the stony plain through which the Doshan Tepe highway leads.  After covering about half a mile, the Shah leaves the carriage and mounts a saddle-horse, in order to the better “put me through some exercises.”  First he requests me to give him an exhibition of speed; then I have to ride a short distance over the rough stone-strewn plain, to demonstrate the possibility of traversing a rough country, after which he desires to see me ride at the slowest pace possible.  All this evidently interests him not a little, and he seems even more amused than interested, laughing quite heartily several times as he rides alongside the bicycle.  After awhile he again exchanges for the carriage, and at four miles from the city gate we arrive at the palace garden.