The wind had blown down one of the telegraph-posts, and the wires had done the mischief.

By good luck and the aid of lucifer matches, we managed to trace our ponies to a piece of cultivated ground hard by, where we found them calmly feeding in a field of standing corn.
The moon had risen by nine o'clock.

Before half-past we were in sight of the rock on which stands the town of Yezdi-Ghazt, towering, shadowy and indistinct, over the moonlit plain.

This is unquestionably the most curious and interesting village between Resht and Bushire.

The post-house stands at the foot.