morning of the 19th. I was amused on the voyage to hear the sailors'
version of the story how the Caspian became a Russian sea, on which no
armed Persian vessel can sail. The sovereignty of this Persian sea was
ceded to Russia by the Treaty of Gulistan in 1813, and the sailors say
that on the Shah being pressed over and over again to consent, and
desiring to find some good excuse to do so, a courtier, seeing the royal
inclination, remarked that Persia suffered sorely from salt soil and
water, which made land barren, and that sea-water was of no use for
irrigation, nor any other good purpose. The Shah on this asked if it
were really true that the water of the Caspian was salt, and on being
assured that it was, he said the Russians might have the whole of it.

We found an improvement at Enzelli in the form of a hotel kept by a
Greek, with accommodation good enough to be very welcome. We had
excellent fresh salmon at breakfast, which reminded me of the doubt that
has often been expressed of the true salmon being found in an inland
sea. The Caspian fish is a genuine salmon of the same habits as the
marine species known in Europe, with the one sad exception that it will
not look at nor touch fly or bait in any form or shape, and therefore
gives no sport for the rod. The trout in the upper waters of the streams
that the salmon run up, take the fly freely and give good sport, but all
attempts by keen and clever fishermen to hook a salmon have failed. The
fish are largely netted, and same are sent to Tehran packed in ice,
while a good business is done in salting what cannot be sold fresh. The
existence of salmon in this inland salt sea, which lies eighty-four feet
below the level of the ocean, is supposed to be due to its connection
with the open sea having been cut off by a great upheaval in the
prehistoric time.

After breakfast we were confronted with a functionary new to us in