explains about the kalian and horses; he enlightens his wondering
auditors to the extent that Yenghi Donians smoke nargilehs and chibouques
instead of kalians, and he contemptuously pooh-poohs the idea of them
keeping riding-horses when they are clever enough to make iron horses
that require nothing to eat or drink and no rest. About the question of
the Heir Apparent smoking the kalian with me he betrays as lively an
interest as anybody in the room, but he maintains a discreet silence
until I answer in the negative, when he surveys his guests with the air
of one who pities their ignorance, and says, "Kalian neis."

A lusty-lunged youngster of about three summers has been interrupting the
genial flow of conversation by making "Rome howl" in an adjoining room,
and Mirza Hassan fetches him in and consoles him with sundry lumps of
sugar. The advent of the limpid-eyed toddler leads the thoughts and
questions of the company into more domestic channels. After exhaustive
questioning about my own affairs, Mirza Hassan, with more than
praiseworthy frankness and becoming gravity, informs me that, besides the
embryo telegraphjee and sugar-consumer in the room, he is the happy
father of "yek nim" (one and a half others). I cast my eye around the
room at this extraordinary announcement, expecting to find the company
indulging in appreciative smiles, but every person in the room is as
sober as a judge; plainly, I am the only person present who regards the
announcement as anything uncommon.

After an ample supper of mutton pillau, Mirza Hassan proceeds to say his
prayers, borrowing my compass to get the proper bearings for Mecca, which
I have explained to him during the afternoon. With no little dismay he
discovers that, according to my explanations, he has for years been
bobbing his head daily several degrees east of the holy city, and, like a
sensible fellow, and a person who has become convinced of the