I noticed, however, that here, as at Poozeh, the British tourist had been busy with chisel and hammer, and, I am ashamed to add, some of the names I read are as well known in England as that of the Prince of Wales.
On the 18th of February, just before midnight, we rode into Shiraz.
The approach to the city lying before us, white and still in the moonlight, through cypress-groves and sweet-smelling gardens, gave me a favourable impression, which a daylight inspection only served to increase.

Shiraz is the pleasantest reminiscence I retain of the ride through Persia.
[Footnote A: Small copper money.].