140 JOUENEYS IN PEESIA LETTER xsn

The heat on that march was severe. A heavy heat-
haze hung over the distances, vegetation drooped, my mock
sowar wrapped up his head in his abba,, the horses looked
limp, the harvesters slept under the trees, the buffaloes
lay down in mud and water. Even the greenery of the
extensive gardens in and around Daulatabad scarcely
looked cool.

Daulatabad is a walled city of 4500 souls, has a fort,
and is reputed to have a large garrison. The bazars,
which contain 250 shops, are indifferent, and the five
caravanserais wretched. It and its extensive gardens
occupy the eastern extremity of a plain, and lie very near
the steep rocky mountain Sard Kuh, through which, by
the Tang-i-Asnab, the Tihran road passes. Another road
over the shoulder of the mountain goes to Isfahan. The
plain outside the walls has neither tree nor bush, and was
only brought into cultivation two years ago. The harvest
was carried, and as irrigation had been suspended for
some weeks, there was nothing but a yellow expanse of
short thin stubble and blazing gravel.

There was no space for camping in any available
garden, and an hour was spent in finding a camping-
ground with wholesome water on the burning plain before
mentioned. I camped below a terraced and planted
eminence, on which a building, half fort and half
governor's house, has so recently been erected that it has
not had time to become ruinous. It is an imposing
quadrangle with blank walls, towers with windows at the
corners, and a very large lalakhana over the entrance. A
winding carriage-drive, well planted, leads up to it, and
there is a circular band-stand with a concrete floor and
a fountain. The most surprising object was a new pair-
horse landau, standing under a tree. Barracks are being
built just below the house.

While my tent was being pitched, the Governor's