We had a grand debate on returning to our tent whether or not to send presents to our host; but on Hajji Mohammed’s advice, and rather against our own judgment, at last did so. But our host would receive nothing, saying that it was for him to do honour to his guests, and that he wanted nothing. He has sent us a most excellent dinner now, consisting of half-a-dozen really well-cooked dishes, things we had not tasted since we left Bagdad. There is also a live lamb to take with us to-morrow, and two large boxes of sweetmeats made of fruits and flowers.
_April_ 7.—Our visit to Huseyn Koli Khan, though a disappointment in some ways, for it was but a morning call, has been none the less a good fortune to us. The confidential man whom the Khan sent with us brought us early into Shustar, and through his intervention we are now comfortably established in a really delightful place, the deserted palace of the Shahzade, or Prince Governor of the province, which is to us as a haven of repose, fortress and palace and garden in one. But all this requires description.
Shustar from the river is extraordinarily like Dizful. The Karkería, on which it stands, is the Diz over again, but I think a larger river; and there is a stone bridge apparently of the same date. The bridge of Shustar is a fine work. It is the broadest I have ever seen out of Europe, for one might drive a coach across it but for the holes; and it is quite fifty feet high above the water. The most singular feature of it is that it is built in a zigzag, and that it has immense piers to the buttresses, some of which seem to have held waterwheels. The parapet is very low, and the whole thing so much out of repair, that crossing it as we did, in a hurricane of wind, we were rather nervous about the camels. Below it is an immense weir, over which the river falls with a deafening roar. A fine arched gateway shuts it off from the city, and just above stands the castle, where we are.
Shustar seems a larger town than Dizful, but it is said to be less flourishing. They both have great empty spaces within the walls, and plenty of ruins. The kalat is an immense rambling place, enclosing a number of different buildings. First, there are rows of vaulted buildings, intended probably for barracks, with a large outer court, full just now of green pasture, a sort of mallow, on which we have turned our camels out to graze. These outbuildings are two storeys high, with loop-holes to shoot out of. From the outer court a paved causeway leads up to a narrow gate, the entrance of an inner castle, built round a large square court, with trees and flower-beds in the middle. From this again a flight of fifteen steps leads up to a terrace, garden, and pavilion three storeys high. This last is the hammam, and is the building specially placed at our disposal. The Shahzade is absent, and the only inhabitants of his kalat are a garrison of about a dozen soldiers, but they live in the outer circle of buildings, and will not disturb us. The prince-governor’s absence is a disadvantage to us, although we profit by it to inhabit his house, for our letters are to him, and we do not know what sort of wakil he has left here. To-day, however, we have seen nobody, and have been very happy and content in the coolness and peace of all around. Only the river makes a distant roar, far below, for from the terrace one looks sheer down at least eighty feet to the water.