He has, of course, no house-rent to pay.
A number of square stone towers about thirty feet high, loopholed and crenelated, are visible from the caravan-track between Shiraz and Khaneh Zinian, where we rested the first night.

The towers are apparently of great antiquity, and must formerly have served for purposes of defence.

We lunched at the foot of one on a breezy upland, with pink and white heather growing freely around, and a brawling, tumbling mountain stream at our feet.

It was like a bit of Scotland or North Wales.

The tower was in a state of decay and roofless, but a wandering tribe of ragged Eeliauts had taken up their quarters inside, and watched us suspiciously through the grey smoke of a damp, spluttering peat fire.