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CHAPTER 9 Resolving Negotiation Impasses and Contract Ratification
TRUE/FALSE
1. Employees consider perceived costs versus benefits that may be gained before they would be willing
to participate in a strike.
ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.396

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Individual Dynamics TOP: Reasons for Strikes
2. Management may not call a strike, but it may invoke certain practices that will cause a strike, because
a strike sometimes works to its advantage.

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Strategy
TOP: Strategic Purposes of a Strike
3. Economic issues are the most common reason for work stoppages.

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Environmental Influence
TOP: The Use of Economic Pressure to Resolve Interest Disputes
4. In most cases, a wildcat strike is a violation of the labor agreement.

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Legal Responsibilities
5. Recently, it has been recognized that management can take certain actions that will cause a strike when
it is to the employer's advantage to have a strike.

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: HRM TOP: Strategic Purposes of a Strike
6. Med-arb and final-offer total package arbitration are similar in that the arbitrator does not make up his
own contract but picks one of those that has been negotiated.
ANS: F PTS: 1 DIF: Hard REF: p.387

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Group Dynamics
TOP: Three Interest Arbitration Procedures | Mediation-Arbitration (Med-Arb)
7. The right to strike is one of the rights guaranteed under the Labor Management Relations Act.
ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Easy REF: p.388

8. The use of strike replacements (particularly permanent replacements) during an economic strike
reduces the tensions between the parties and often shortens the length of a strike.
ANS: F PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.389

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: HRM TOP: Strike Experiences and Preparation
9. Economic strikers may be either temporarily or permanently replaced by an employer for the purpose
of continuing normal business operations.

TOP: Reinstatement Rights of Unfair Labor Practice and Economic Strikers
10. Interest arbitration, unlike mediation and fact finding, results in a final and binding decision.

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Environmental Influence TOP: Interest Arbitration
11. Conventional interest arbitration has been criticized because arbitrators have been accused of "splitting
the difference."

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Individual Dynamics TOP: Interest Arbitration
12. If not permanently replaced, an economic striker has a right to be reinstated to his or her job at any
time during a labor dispute after making an unconditional request for reinstatement to the employer.

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Individual Dynamics
13. An employee may resign from the union during a strike, cross picket lines, and be protected under the
Taft-Hartley Act, but the union may impose a one-time fine for crossing the union's picket line.

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Individual Dynamics TOP: Unlawful Strike Misconduct
14. A mediator who has separate meetings with management and union officials risks having his neutrality
suspected by either side.

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Group Dynamics TOP: Mediation
15. Fact-finding is a semi-judicial process in which all parties provide information to a neutral that allows
the parties to reach a speedy resolution.
ANS: F PTS: 1 DIF: Easy REF: p.383-384

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Environmental Influence TOP: Fact-Finding
16. An unfair labor practice strike is a strike in reaction to an employer’s refusal to bargain in good faith
with the union.

17. Work stoppages in the United States since 1982 have been at or near historic low levels in terms of
numbers of strikes, employees involved, and days idled.
NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Group Dynamics TOP: Reasons for Strikes
18. The "reserve gate" approach involves the establishment of an exclusive gate for entry and exit of all
employees on strike.

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Legal Responsibilities TOP: Common Situs Picketing
19. Picket signs must clearly identify the primary employer as the target of the picket activity and only
urge a boycott of the primary employer’s products or services, not a total boycott of all products or
services sold by the neutral, secondary employer.

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Legal Responsibilities TOP: Product Picketing Rights
20. A mediator functions more as an invited guest who can be required to leave if one or both bargaining
parties no longer desire the mediator.

NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Individual Dynamics TOP: Mediation
21. Mediators must work by a predetermined set of rules in order to successfully resolve differences.

MULTIPLE CHOICE
1. At the end of the 80-day injunction under the National Emergency Procedures of the LMRA, the
president is authorized to:
a. direct the Attorney General to have all violators arrested.
b. direct the seizure of the industry.
c. report to Congress.
d. declare the strike or lockout illegal.
e. all of these
ANS: C PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.409
TOP: National Emergency Dispute Resolution Procedures
2. Final-offer total package arbitration has an advantage over conventional interest arbitration because:
a. selection of the arbitrator is made through the FMCS and AAA.
b. the arbitrator can compromise between the parties' extreme positions.
c. it results in a final and binding decision.
d. it does not "split the difference" between the union's and management's final proposals.
e. all of these are advantages of final-offer total package
ANS: D PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.386
TOP: Three Interest Arbitration Procedures
3. Which of the following is not an impasse resolution procedure?

a. interest arbitration
b. mediation
c. fact-finding
d. interest disputation
e. none of these
ANS: D PTS: 1 DIF: Easy REF: p.381
4. If an employer is the victim of a wildcat strike, which of the following options are within its rights to
consider?
a. contending that employees have voided their labor agreement
b. requesting informally that the strikers return to work
c. disciplining or discharging the strikers
d. bringing suit against the union for damages suffered
e. all of these options are allowed
ANS: E PTS: 1 DIF: Hard REF: p.392
5. Which of the following always results in a final and binding decision?

a. fact finding
b. mediation
c. arbitration
d. all of these
e. mediation and fact-finding
ANS: C PTS: 1 DIF: Hard REF: p.381
NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: HRM TOP: Mediation
6. Which of the following are either illegal or in violation of the labor agreement?
a. wildcat strike
b. economic strike
c. unfair labor practice strike
d. secondary strikes
e. wildcat strike and secondary strikes only
ANS: E PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.392 | p.405
7. All but one of the following ways are used by mediators to apply pressure in a bargaining session.
Which one is not applied?
a. using delays and deadlines
b. placing responsibility on the parties involved
c. engaging in marathon bargaining sessions
d. siding with one party over the other
e. all of these are used by mediators to apply pressure in a bargaining session
8. Each of the following is listed as a major factor that could cause a strike, except one. Which one is not
a major factor?
a. employees feeling that wages should be higher
b. rank and file disagreement with union leadership
c. misperception between bargaining parties
d. a unilateral change by management
e. all of these are major factors that could cause a strike
ANS: B PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.394
9. In relation to a mediator, an arbitrator has:

a. more power and more responsibility.
b. less power, but more flexibility.
c. more power and greater innovation.
d. less power and more appeal.
e. less power and less flexibility.
ANS: A PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.385
10. A strike is not entered into lightly by an employee. Which of the following items is least likely to be
considered?
a. What will other people think of me?
b. Is the objective worth the cost?
c. What is my expense of participation?
d. What are the legal ramifications?
e. all of these are equally likely to be considered by an employee
ANS: A PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.389
11. Mediation is distinguished from arbitration by:

a. mediators appointed by government agencies.
b. use of third-party neutrals.
c. no final and binding decision.
d. meetings where the parties present their issues to the neutral.
e. all of these
ANS: C PTS: 1 DIF: Easy REF: p.381
12. During a strike, who has the most effect upon a striker's behavior and attitudes?
a. manager
b. spouse
c. union leader
d. subordinates
e. co-workers
ANS: B PTS: 1 DIF: Easy REF: p.397
TOP: Strike Experiences and Preparation
13. Fact-finding differs from arbitration in that:

a. it has a better record of producing a settlement.
b. it relies heavily on public display of fact-finders' reports.
c. it was not allowed under the Taft-Hartley Act between 1947 and 1959.
d. interest arbitration was used frequently during World War II.
e. all of these are differences between fact-finding and arbitration
14. Which of the following is not a reason why an employer would refrain from hiring replacement
workers during a strike?
a. insufficient time to train new employees
b. the potential cost of court suits
c. disallowed by union regulations
d. tension and possibly violence at the picket line between strikers and replacements
e. all of these are reasons an employer would refrain from hiring replacements
15. ____________ yields a report which is made public and which is intended to pressure the parties to
come to a negotiated settlement.
a. Grievance arbitration
b. Fact finding
c. Interest (contract arbitration)
d. Med-Arb
e. Grievance mediation
16. Which of the following options (legal actions by employers) is most likely to be used by the NLRB in
labor disputes after reaching an impasse over a mandatory issue?
a. hire temporary replacements for strikers
b. hire permanent replacements for strikers
c. lockout
d. establish reserve gate
e. all of these
NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Legal Responsibilities TOP: Common Situs Picketing
17. _____________ arises from the parties' inability to negotiate a labor agreement successfully and refers
the unresolved issues to an outside neutral who conducts a hearing to receive evidence and then makes
a final and binding decision within the parties' proposals.
b. Fact finding
d. Med-Arb
e. Grievance mediation
NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Group Dynamics TOP: Interest Arbitration
18. With regards to common situs picketing:

a. the union surrenders its right to strike.
b. striking employees cannot legally picket neutral employers who share the same work site
as the primary employer.
c. the union is picketing in response to management refusal to bargain in good faith.
d. all of these
e. striking employees cannot legally picket neutral employers who share the same work site
as the primary employer and the union is picketing in response to management refusal to
bargain in good faith.
NAT: AACSB Analytic | AACSB: Group Dynamics TOP: Common Situs Picketing
19. _________ reduces the arbitrator's authority to "split the difference."

b. Fact finding
d. Med-Arb
e. Final-offer total package arbitration
ANS: E PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.386
TOP: Three Interest Arbitration Procedures
20. Factors that might affect what constitutes a ‘‘reasonable time period’’ for recall to work by economic
strikers could include:
a. future probability that new job openings may occur over some extended time period.
b. historical data on normal employee attrition rates.
c. the percentage of total employees eligible for recall who were actually recalled during the
negotiated time limit.
d. all of these
e. historical data on normal employee attrition rates and the percentage of total employees
eligible for recall who were actually recalled during the negotiated time limit.
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solicited us. The man remained under the umbrella, and took no
notice. They were “Susmanis,” or gypsies. These people have no
particular religion—certainly they are not Mussulmans; they live by
singing, dancing, and prostitution. The woman, who had
considerable attractions, followed us for nearly a mile, and begged
hard for a present. Sana is always infested by bands of these
“Susmanis,” who prey on the pilgrims.
We are now on the direct pilgrims’ road to Kerbela, where are
buried the imams, or saints, of the Sheahs, Hussein and Hassan,
one of the greatest shrines of Persian pilgrims. More groups of
“Susmanis” accost us, and demand alms, openly proclaiming their
trade.
We reach Sana, and pitch the tent in a large garden with plenty of
running water, where we are able to get a good bath next day. The
climate is here very pleasant; although it is early in spring, the sun is
very powerful, and the night no longer chilly. The greater part of the
afternoon is taken up with a long wrangle with the head-men of the
village as to the price of poles for the telegraph-line. Pierson’s ideas
and theirs differ widely as to the value of these, but a threatened
reference to the Imād-u-dowlet (“Pillar of the State”), the Governor of
Kermanshah, soon reduces the price, for these sharks would much
prefer dealing with the Feringhi than their fellow-countrymen, as the
latter would probably take the poles for nothing.
Another day’s journey brings us to Besitūn, which is distinguished
by an inscription carved on the face of a perpendicular cliff, with
colossal figures, of which a correct and learned description has been
given by Sir Henry Rawlinson. At the foot of this cliff are a few
fragments of what is supposed to have been “Shushan the palace.”
It is said that here, when Sir Henry Rawlinson was engaged in
copying the inscriptions, on a scaffolding on the face of the cliff, at a
great height from the ground, that he fell over backwards, and was
caught by his trusty Arab muleteer, Hadji Khaleel; and that, in
gratitude, Sir Henry, who at that time held a diplomatic position in
Persia, made the Hadji British Agent in Kermanshah. This is the
legend among the natives. I give it as I heard it.
I had the pleasure of the honest old Hadji’s acquaintance in that
place, and was shown much kindness by him. Whether or no this
legend had any ground I cannot say; but Hadji Khaleel was a
charming old man, honest as the day, though with somewhat rough
manners.
His son, Agha Hassan, who was, at the time I speak of, his right
hand, is now the British Agent, and has become, by successful
commerce, the wealthiest man in the province. Agha Hassan rode
out to meet us, his father, Hadji Khaleel being ill, and Pierson told me
that he recognised and spoke in rapturous terms of my “Senna,” to
whom by this time I had become much attached, and who once had
belonged to him.
An istikhbal of a colonel, his attendants, and two led-horses, were
sent out to do Pierson honour by the Governor; kalians were smoked
on the high road, and we came in sight of Kermanshah after crossing
the Kara-Su River by a fairly well-made bridge.
The place looks well, and appears surrounded by a grassy plain, a
very unusual sight in Persia. The town had an air of prosperity, and
the people were well fed and well clothed. It occupied several small
hills, and hence appeared considerably larger than it was.
Like all Persian towns, the streets were narrow, and, save in the
bazaars, in which were the shops, one saw nothing but dead walls;
each house having an arched entrance closed by a heavy, unpainted
wooden door, with many big nails in it.
The causeway was generally some three feet wide, and raised a
yard from the ground, and frequently ran on both sides of a path a
yard wide and often two feet deep in mud or water, looking like a
ditch, but it was really the road (save the mark!) for horses, mules,
and camels. Many of the houses were built of burnt bricks, and the
place seemed busier than Hamadan. I noticed many Arabs about
wearing the gay Baghdad dress, with fez and small turban. The town
was straggling, with many open spaces.
Quarters were assigned to us in the house of a man who was
ejected to enable us to occupy them; they were not in themselves a
bad place, but were in the worst and most disreputable part of the
town; while the house I was obliged to rent was actually next door
but one to that occupied by the public executioner, one Jaffer, and
where dwelt the public women, the monopoly of whom was the
largest source of this man’s revenue. All this is now changed, and
Europeans can in most parts of Persia live where they like, the
householders being only too glad to get a solvent tenant. Save in the
capital, houses rarely are rented by Persians, it being usual to
borrow a spare house, or, if a man has more than one, to put a
relation in, rent-free.
The farce of the danger of living in the Persian towns is still kept
up in Ispahan (the Ispahanis are the quietest men in Persia), where
the English inhabit an unclean Armenian village, paying high rents,
when houses in the town could be had much better and cheaper; the
real reason probably being that the Armenians may enjoy the
immunity they have from all control, caused by the presence of the
European. But it has not answered, for in Ispahan the European is
looked on as merely a clean and sober Armenian. Still, as an
experiment of what the Armenian would be when practically
unrestrained, it is valuable.
The Hamadan Armenian is hard-working and respectable, if
occasionally a drunkard, looked on by his Persian fellow-subject as a
friend and a good citizen. While the Ispahani looks on the Julfa
Armenian as a race apart, and merely the panderer to his vice and
the maker of intoxicating liquors; and the hang-dog Armenian, with
his sham Turkish or European dress and the bottle of arrack in his
pocket, scowls staggering along in secure insolence, confident in the
moral protection given him by the presence of the Englishman,
whom he robs; respecting neither his priest, whom he has been
taught to despise; nor the missionary, whom he dislikes at heart
(though he has educated his children gratuitously), and whom his
priest openly reviles.
A curious instance of the religious stability of the Julfa Armenian is
shown in the fact, that a Protestant on any dispute with the
missionary becomes Catholic or Old Armenian. The Old Armenian,
after a row with the priest, becomes either Protestant or Catholic.
The Catholics, as a rule, do not relapse or become perverts. In fact,
a common threat with the Armenian to his spiritual pastor and
master, missionary, priest or padre, is to say, “Do it, and I’ll turn,” and
some have many times; in fact, a very small temporal matter often is
the cause of conversions as sudden as insincere.
We were glad enough to get in, and had hardly got our boots off
ere a number of trays of sweetmeats were brought for Pierson, on
the part of Hadji Khaleel, with compliments, and a similar present
was sent from the Imād-u-dowlet, who sent his farrash-bashi (literally
chief carpet-spreader, but really his minister) to represent him. This
man was well bred, well meaning and obliging, and afterwards,
through a singular circumstance, one of my best friends among the
Persians.
I continued to stay with Pierson, not moving into my own quarters
till he left Kermanshah.
CHAPTER X.
KERMANSHAH.
Kermanshah—Imād-u-dowlet—We visit him—Signs of his wealth—Man nailed to a

post—Injuring the wire—Serrum-u-dowlet—Visits—We dine with the son of
the Governor—His decorations and nightingales—Dancing girls—Various
dances—The belly dance—Heavy dinner—Turf—Wild geese—The swamp—
A ducking through obstinacy—Imādieh—Wealth of the Imād-u-dowlet—The
Shah loots him—Squeezing—Rock sculptures—Astrologers—Astrolabes—
Fortune-telling—Rammals—Detection of thieves—Honesty of servants—
Thefts through pique—My lost pipe-head—Tragedy of two women.
Kermanshah is decidedly the cheapest place in all cheap Persia.

Bread was selling at seven pounds for twopence; mutton, seven
pounds for fourteenpence, or twopence a pound; and other things in
proportion. It costs here threepence a day to keep a horse (1867).
The day after our arrival Pierson went to visit the Imād-u-dowlet,
uncle (?) of the king, and Governor of the province. He is a man of
very large fortune, and is liked as a Governor, being stern, but
generally just, his wealth putting him above any wish to oppress the
little people. We rode to the maidān, or public square, then in under
an archway and up a steep incline, which conducted us to the
interior of the citadel, in which the Imād lived.
As we entered we noticed a man nailed by the ear to a wooden
telegraph post.
The Imād-u-dowlet received Pierson very kindly, and laughed and
joked a great deal. His eldest son, the “Serrum-u-dowlet,” a man of
five-and-thirty, was present; he spoke a little French and was very
friendly and complimentary.
The wealth of the Governor was shown in his coffee-cup holders,
of gold enamelled, and decorated with rows of diamonds; his water-
pipes (kalians) all of gold; and his own special one, the bottle of
which was of gold so thickly encrusted with emeralds that it
appeared like green glass; all the stones were pale, and
consequently of comparatively little value separately.
The Governor in appearance was a man of five-and-forty, with a
heavy black beard and thick moustache; but he was really sixty-five:
this youthful look was due to hair-dye.
He told us that the man who was nailed to the telegraph-post was
a villager who had been detected red-handed in breaking the
telegraph-wire, and that he was to remain thirty-six hours, when he
would be imprisoned. “It is a capital warning to other offenders,” said
the Imād. At this time the line was frequently damaged, several miles
at a time often being pulled down by malicious travellers and
villagers, particularly on the frontier near Kermanshah. Pierson,
however, begged that the man might be removed at sunset, on the
ground that he would cease to act as a warning at night. This was
reluctantly agreed to.
The latest gossip of Teheran was retailed, and a few vague
remarks were made as to the politics of Europe. I was asked to feel
the Imād’s pulse, and did not fail to try both wrists, as I found if I did
not do so I was supposed not to know my business. This was hardly
charlatanry, but merely a deference to the prejudices of the place.
After the usual tea and pipes had been gone through we retired.
The man was still nailed to the post, surrounded by a gaping
crowd of villagers. He amused himself by cursing Pierson as “reis-i-
seem” (“master of the wire”) as we passed him. The Imād, however,
unpinned him at sunset, as he had promised.
The next morning the “Serrum-u-dowlet” called to return Pierson’s
visit to his father, and asked us to dine with him that evening,
entreating us to come in time for tea in the afternoon. The whole
forenoon was occupied in receiving visits from the personages of
Kermanshah.
At five we repaired to the house of the “Serrum-u-dowlet.” We
found him sitting with his brother in a large talár, or archway, one
side of which was open to the air. The whole room was decorated in
the strangest taste; there were the usual mirrors and florid mural
paintings; these in this case were life-size full-length portraits of
posture dancers and dancing girls, and were in ancient costumes,
having been painted fifty years ago. The takhjahs in the walls were
filled with chromo-lithographs in very dubious taste; several odd
chandeliers hung at various heights as ornaments, some twenty pair
of old carriage-lamps were stuck into staples in the walls, and as
many small cages stood about, each containing a bulbul, or
nightingale. What with the noise these birds made, and the splashing
of a fountain which played furiously in a basin of yellow Yezd marble
in the centre, it was difficult to catch what was said. Pipes were
brought, and a long desultory conversation ensued, in the course of
which our host’s guns, dogs, and miscellaneous property were
exhibited and duly admired.
The noise was deafening, and directly we had walked round the
garden a band of musicians, some twenty strong, made night
hideous with their strains and singing. Wine was now produced, and
freely partaken of by both brothers, and trays of sweetmeats were
handed round and afterwards placed on the ground around us.
Spirits, in the form of arrack, the strong coarse spirit of the country,
were pressed on us, but we declined. Our host and his brother,
however, drank it like water.
On a whispered order being given to the servants four Susmani
girls and a buffoon now appeared. These commenced a kind of
posture dance, the buffoon singing and making remarks, which
produced a good deal of laughter from the host and his brother, but
were unintelligible to me, and simply disgusting, as Pierson told me,
who could understand.
The girls were pretty in a way, brunettes with large eyes; their
faces were much painted, and they were fine girls; their ages were
from twelve to seventeen. Their dance had no variety, they spun
round, the hands high in air, while the fingers were snapped with a
loud report. A very free exhibition of considerably developed charms
took place. Every now and then the dancer would make what we call
a cheese; then, standing with the feet motionless, the body was
contorted and wriggled, each muscle being made to quiver, and the
head being bent back till it almost touched the ground; the fingers
being snapped in time to the music; or tiny cymbals, some inch in
diameter, were clashed between the forefinger and thumb of each
hand. The musicians, who played continuously, kept up a sort of loud
chant the whole time. The girls now showed some skill as
equilibrists, balancing full glasses, lighted candles, etc., and an
exhibition of posturing was gone through. They stood on their heads
and walked on their hands; they then danced a scarf-dance.
FEMALE DANCERS AND EQUILIBRISTS.
(From a Native Drawing.)
We had not noticed that the buffoon had retired, but he now re-
entered, disguised in a remarkable manner. He seemed a figure
some four feet high, with a face huge and like a full moon. This was,
in fact, carefully painted on his bare abdomen, the whole
surmounted by a gigantic turban. He had constructed a pair of false
arms, and, with a boy’s coat and large girdle, he presented the effect
of a dwarf with a huge round fat face; his head, chest, and arms
were hidden in the enormous white turban. The face represented
was one of intense and dismal stupidity, and his whole appearance
was most ludicrous; in fact, it was only on afterwards seeing the man
disrobe, that we made out how it was done.
He danced in and out among the girls, who stood in a row
snapping their fingers and posturing: but what was our astonishment
when we saw the dismally stupid face expand into a grin, which
became at length a laughing mask; it resumed its dismal stupidity—it
grinned—it laughed. The musicians played and shouted their chant
more and more loudly, and the face of the figure assumed the most
ludicrous contortions. We all were unable to restrain our laughter,
and the triumphant buffoon retired well rewarded by the Serrum-u-
dowlet. The four dancers now became rather too personal in their
attentions, and begged for coin. We gave them a few kerans, but
were glad when they retired on dinner being announced. We both
pronounced them monotonous and uninteresting.
After a heavy Persian dinner—much such a one as we had at
Merand—we, with some trouble, got away at eleven p.m. Our hosts
seemed inclined to make a very wet night of it; in fact, their frequent
acceptance of cupfuls of raw spirits from the hands of the dancers
had made them see things generally in a rosy light. They wept when
we left!
We rode home through the silent streets of Kermanshah, the only
light being our farnooses, or cylindrical lamps, made of copper and
calico, something in the fashion of a Chinese lantern; and the full
moon.
We met no one in the streets, which were deserted save by the
dogs, and the whole town seemed sunk in sleep. The Persian is an
early bird, going to bed at nine, and rising at four or half-past four. It
is very difficult to break oneself of this habit of early rising on
returning to Europe. One is looked on as very eccentric on getting up
at half-past four, and is hunted from room to room by the
housemaids. Certainly the early morning is the best part of the day
all over the world, but we Europeans in our wisdom have altered it.
“Nous avons changé tout cela”—and we prefer living by gaslight,
electricity, etc.
The next morning the Serrum-u-dowlet came over to take our
photographs, and was very friendly; he took them really well, and is
a clever fellow.
We went for a ride, and had the unwonted luxury of a two hours’
canter over good turf. I never had this anywhere else in Persia but
once. While near the river we saw plenty of duck, and Pierson told
me that they are always to be had in the Kermanshah river.
In Kermanshah I found that the grassy plain round the town had
many attractions. Some two miles’ canter on it brought me to a
swamp where there were always snipe, except in the hot weather, an
occasional duck, and even at times wild geese. A ludicrous incident
happened to me one day in regard to the latter. As I was cantering
up to the swamp with my groom, I saw on the other side of a herd of
cattle a flock of geese grazing. To dismount and take my gun from
him was the work of an instant, and I quickly inserted a cartridge
charged with No. 4, and a wire ditto, for my left barrel. I walked
stealthily among the cattle towards the flock of geese, but the game
took no notice of me, and allowed me to get within thirty yards; then
it came across me, how if these were tame geese, what a fire of
chaff I should get from Pierson. I did not think of shouting, as of
course I should have done, which would have settled the question,
but I retreated stealthily to where my groom was standing with the
horses. I saw that he was full of excitement, and felt that I had made
a fool of myself. “Shikar?” (“Are they wild ones?”) said I. “Belli, belli,
sahib!” (“Yes, yes, sir!”)
Back I went, but alas! only to be too well convinced that they were
wild ones, for the whole flock sailed away ere I could get within a
hundred and fifty yards. I have often shot geese—that is, a goose at
a time—but I never had such another chance. The birds really
behaved just as tame ones would; I can only suppose that my being
among the grazing cows I was looked upon as harmless. I did not
relate that afternoon’s adventure to Pierson for some time after.
The swamp, which was about a mile long, and at the widest parts
only five hundred yards, was in the centre impossible to cross, save
in summer, when there was no sport there. One side had not nearly
so much cover as the other, but there were no holes; the other side
was full of them, and it was only after a long time that I got
thoroughly acquainted with the geography. In after days I had a
guest who was very hot on sport of all kinds; and as the swamp was
all I could show him at the time, it was arranged that we were to
have a day there.
I, having a holy horror of wet feet, used to go in with a pair of duck
trousers and Persian shoes regardless of water, and march on
frequently up to my waist, changing on coming out. I suggested this
mode to my sporting friend, but he looked on it as very infra dig. and
unsportsmanlike, and set out in a most correct get-up of shooting-
coat with many pockets, and the usual lace-up shooting-boots.
Nothing would induce him to take a change in case of a wetting, and
off we went. As his gun had no sling—almost a necessity in Persia,
where the weapon is so frequently carried on horseback—his groom
carried it in its case.
We got to the swamp, and, knowing the place, I said, “You take the
left side—there are no holes; and I who know the holes will take the
right, which is full of them.”
But my friend was not to be led; he remarked that the right was
certainly the best side, and as guest he ought to have it. To this I of
course agreed, but I pointed out that the holes were deep and
dangerous, and that I knew them, and he did not. But, no, he
insisted. I could, of course, only give in.
The place was alive with snipe. I went to the left, or more open
side, and was over my ankles in a moment. My enthusiastic friend
was in to his knees. We blazed away, and were getting on well, when
my friend lost his ramrod. Persia being a very dry place, all wood
shrinks, and it had probably slipped out. There was nothing for it but
to take the cleaning-rod from the case and use that; the difficulty was
how to carry it, as we were firing frequently, and he didn’t want to
unscrew it. My friend had no belt, and so thrust it down his back,
between his shirt and waistcoat. We began again, and were soon in
the thick of them. We had now got to the widest part of the swamp; I
was separated from my guest by deep water-holes, and was looking
at him when with a shout he suddenly disappeared, and it was
evident he was in a water-hole. I rushed out and ran round the head
of the swamp to his assistance; the servants were out of call. When I
got there he was nearly done for; he had fallen head foremost into a
hole, and could not get out, as the reeds gave way when he pulled
them, and there was only a bottom round the edge of soft mud. The
loading-rod had somehow got down his back, and he could not get
hold of it, while it crippled him; and he had a very white face indeed
when I helped him out by holding my gun out to him. He had lost his
gun, but my groom dived and brought it out.
I wished him to canter home at once, but he did not like to be seen
in the pickle he was in—mud, green mud, from head to foot; and he
insisted on waiting till his man brought a change. This took an hour,
and the day, though bright, was cold and windy. So there he stood in
his wet clothes, his teeth chattering, trying to keep himself warm by
jumping; but his struggles in the water-hole had so weakened him
that he could hardly stand. Of course he had a severe go of
intermittent fever, which laid him up for a fortnight. In after excursions
he was content to leave me the right or dangerous side, which I from
habit was able to safely travel in.
Pierson and I visited a magnificent palace which was in course of
construction by the Imād-u-dowlet. Some idea of its size may be
given when I say that there was stabling for two hundred horses. In
Persia, when a man passes fifty, he begins to be seized with a mania
for building, but he takes care not to finish the works he undertakes,
being thoroughly persuaded of the certainty of his own death in case
of the completion of the edifice.
Some ten years after I had left Kermanshah, Imādieh—so the
place was called—was presented (I dare say much against the
grain) to the king. At that time the Imād-u-dowlet had become the
actual freeholder of the whole of the Kermanshah valley, and his
wealth was immense in money and flocks and herds. But the
inevitable evil day arrived. The Shah recalled him to Teheran, and
the squeezing process commenced; large sums of money were
wrung from him, and the royal treasury correspondingly enriched. It
is always so in Persia; a man is allowed to quietly enrich himself, but
when he has achieved immense wealth he becomes a mark for
oppression in his turn. To use the common expression of the country,
“He is ripe; he must be squeezed.”
THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS. (NAKSH-I-RŪSTAM.)
Just by Imādieh, at the base of a high cliff, is an excavated arched

chamber, at the back of which, carved from the living rock, is an
equestrian statue armed with a lance; it is of colossal size, and some
fourteen feet high (?). Both figure and horse are much damaged by
time and the hand of man, and it is difficult to make much out of the
detail. There are two other figures, one at either extremity of the
back of the arch.
Over the entrance of the arched chamber, which forms a
delightfully cool place to have tea in, are carved in the face of the cliff
itself two figures of Fame (?) (or winged female figures); to the best
of my remembrance they have trumpets. These are more in the
Roman style, or may be even modern (pseudo-classic), for the early
Kings of Persia employed foreign artificers to decorate their palaces;
instance being seen in Ispahan, particularly in the large oil-paintings,
which are certainly not by Oriental artists. Of the great antiquity of
the figures within the arch there can be no doubt, and they are more
than alto-relievo, for they are only affixed to the rock by a small strip,
and are much under-cut. They have been frequently scientifically
described, and appear to be the work of the Sassanian kings.
There are several similar though less pretentious figures: one at
Naksh-i-Rūstam,[14] near Persepolis; another, called by the people
“Ferhad and Shireen,” near Shiraz; but these latter are simply rough
carvings in relief.
A stone platform has been built in front of the archway, and below
this flows a great volume of spring-water that comes from a natural
tunnel beneath the statues. A large hauz or tank is kept constantly
full by this, and when we were there it was ornamented by a flock of
some sixty tame geese, the only ones I had seen, save those in
Teheran, and the recent sight of them had something to do with my
hesitation when in search of sport on the occasion which I have
noted.
The shade and coolness, the noise of flowing water, and the huge
tank with the geese on it (and a swimming goose in a large piece of
water is a decidedly handsome bird, when you have no swans),
rendered this place a favourite one to drink tea and smoke pipes in.
The Naib-ul-ayālut, the second son of the Imād-u-dowlet, was a
man who devoted much attention to astrology and the pursuit of the
philosopher’s stone. He entertained us one day with tea at the
statue, and gave us an impromptu exhibition of fireworks; and as
they were discharged from the edge of the tank, it acted like a mirror,
and the effect was good in the extreme.
Astrology is at a premium in Persia; the monajem, or astrologers,
are consulted on almost every subject. Each village has its diviner,
and each big town supports several, the head of whom boasts the
sounding title of “monajem-bashi” (chief astrologer).
Their great occupation is to predict fortunate hours, days, etc.
They will fix on a day for a great man to start on a journey or arrive at
a place, and the man will be careful to follow the astrologer’s
direction, for they have a great belief in bad and good luck. The rules
by which the astrologers make their calculations are very
complicated; strange to say, there are many of them who really
believe in their own profession. Each has his astrolabe of brass or
silver; some of the brass ones are very large and handsome: I have
known as much as one thousand kerans paid for a good one. They
are manufactured in the country. The king’s astrologer is a very great
man indeed, and no important act is undertaken without consulting
him. Often the astrologer goes further than his own special business
of “ruling the planets,” and by means of rolling six dice, which revolve
on a rod run through the centre of them, he pretends to read the
future—in fact, he is a fortune-teller. Many, too, are rammals, or
discoverers of stolen property. This is often ingeniously done, after a
good deal of hocus pocus, by working on the fears of the thieves.
The old, old plans are adopted: sticks are given to the suspected,
and they are told they will grow if they are guilty; the conscience-
stricken breaks a piece off. Or they are told to dip their hands into a
pot placed in a dark room; this is full of dye stuff; the guilty man does
not dip his hand, and is so detected. Or, more frequently, all the
suspects are sworn to innocence in the name of some local saint,
and are informed that the vengeance of the saint will fall on the guilty
man if the property is not returned; in the morning it often
mysteriously reappears. These men, then, are of use, and by their
means property may often be recovered that would otherwise never
be traced.
I myself have employed them successfully on several occasions.
As a rule, thefts by domestics of anything valuable are very rare,
though pilfering goes on a good deal, for the Persian servant looks
on his master’s tea, sugar, and grain as lawful plunder; when things
are taken, it is usually done by a servant merely in the hope of
getting a rival into trouble, and an edict that the servants will have to
pay a little more than the value of the lost property is enough to bring
it back; it is impossible to detect under these circumstances the
abstractor. But if a thief is really among the household, the servants
as a rule find him out and clamour for his discharge.
Such an event happened when my best pipe-head suddenly
disappeared. I sent for the rammal, and after various mysterious
ceremonies unsuccessfully gone through, the man retired promising
me my property before noon the next day. Next morning one of my
men calmly informed me that he had seen the prophet Mahommed
in a dream, who addressed him thus—
“‘Hadji, my son, are you well?’
“‘Alas! no, holy prophet; I am in deep grief, my heart is burnt up
with misery.’
“‘Why is this, son Hadji?’
“‘My master has lost a pipe-head, O prophet, and I—I, the
innocent Hadji—may be suspected; the hearts of all the servants are
tightened (idiom) by this sad fear.’
“‘Be not afraid, son Hadji; if you look at the top left-hand corner of
your master’s tank, you will find it.’
“I swooned away with delight, sahib, and am only waiting your
permission to make a search.”
I smiled, and of course there they found my pipe-head. As I knew
theft was not intended, I said nothing, but I did not reward the vision-
seeing finder.
One day in Kermanshah I was surprised to meet a procession in
the streets. First came all the lutis or buffoons, the public musicians
singing and dancing, then a crowd of drunken roughs, then a few
soldiers with fixed bayonets, then the “farrash-bashi,” or “principal
tent-pitcher”—in reality the Imād-u-dowlet’s head-man—on
horseback; then the executioner, clad in red, and his aides; then two
wretched women, their heads shaved and rubbed with curds, their
faces bare and blackened, dressed in men’s clothes, and both
seated on one donkey, led by a negro, with their faces to the tail
(their feet had been beaten to a pulp); then a crowd of some two
thousand men, women, and children. On inquiry I learnt that these
women were attendants at a public bath, and had betrayed the wife
of a tradesman into the hands of an admirer, who had secreted
himself in the bath with their connivance. The woman complained,
the man fled, and justice (Persian justice) was being done on the two
unfortunate women. The Imād-u-dowlet had severely bastinadoed
them and then gave them over to the executioner to be paraded
through the town and then banished—after they had been handed
over to the tender mercies of all the ruffians of the city. The first part
of the sentence had been carried out, and they had been led thus
through the bazaars from dawn till afternoon; the executioner taking,
as is customary, a small tax from each trader according to his
degree. Such is the Persian custom from old times. I learnt
afterwards that the mob defiled these women, and one died of her
injuries; the other poor wretch either took poison or was given it by
her offended relatives the next morning.
Such is Persian justice.
CHAPTER XI.
I GO TO ISPAHAN.
Deficiency of furniture—Novel screws—Pseudo-masonry—Fate of the Imād-u-

dowlet’s son—House-building—Kerind—New horse—Mule-buying—Start for
Ispahan—Kanaats—Curious accident—Fish in kanaats—Loss of a dog—
Pigeons—Pigeon-towers—Alarm of robbers—Put up in a mosque—Armenian
village—Armenian villagers—Travellers’ law—Tax-man at Dehbeed—Ispahan
—The bridge—Julfa.
In these early days of the Telegraph Department we all had

considerable difficulty in getting furniture; the little good furniture
Pierson and I had, viz., two tables, came from Baghdad, and was
originally made in India. I was delighted to get from my friend the
farrash-bashi a magnificent arm-chair made of mahogany and
stuffed in velvet. Even the word for a chair, “sandalli,” was not used
in Kermanshah, but “kūrsi,” a platform, was the expression; and the
rough chairs we got made, of plane or poplar, painted bright green or
red in water-colour and unvarnished, and pinned together by wooden
pegs in lieu of mortises, were uneasy in the extreme, always coming
to grief; and the travelling camp-stools, with no back, were nearly as
bad. In Ispahan the natives are clever as carpenters, and now make
chairs, tables, and even chests of drawers very fairly. I once had
some made by a very clever young Armenian carpenter, and the
chests of drawers were very good indeed, but I found that the locks
and hinges were nailed on instead of screws being used. I sent them
back, and then, rather than buy screws, which are somewhat
expensive in Persia, the carpenter cut slots with a file in the head of
each round-headed nail, sending them to me and triumphantly
demanding his money, supposing that now at least I was satisfied.
But on putting a screwdriver to them, I detected the ingenious
deception, and remembering the Persian proverb, “If you can deal
with an Armenian, you can deal with the devil,” I had to put pressure
on the man to get screws really put on.
The farrash-bashi’s arm-chair arrived with five pounds in cash, ten
loaves of sugar—loaf-sugar was one and sixpence a pound at that
time and only used by the rich—several pounds of tea, and twenty
mule-loads of barley—not a bad fee. I was surprised at the largeness
of it, and found that the farrash-bashi was a “mason,” which
accounted for it.
One of the king’s servants conceived the brilliant idea of
introducing pseudo-masonry into Persia for the sake of his own
aggrandisement. He inaugurated so-called lodges of masons
(Feramūsh-khana, “the house of forgetfulness,” is the name used in
the country for a masonic lodge) all over Persia, specially impressing
on the neophytes the doctrine that implicit obedience was in all
things temporal to be yielded to the superior, and exacted large
contributions. With a people so excitable as the Persians, anything
mysterious has a great charm. The astute mirza took care only to
initiate rich neophytes, or at all events men of position, and a
gigantic political engine was the result (of course all this was quite
contrary to the spirit of masonry, which especially avoids politics).
The king got wind of the matter, and the clever Armenian (for he was
a son of poor Armenians of Julfa) was banished the kingdom, or fled
to save his throat. But time went on, the past was condoned, and the
poor Armenian boy now occupies a high diplomatic position at a
great European Court, and holds the title of prince.
It appears that the farrash-bashi’s handsome fee was not so much
caused by gratitude for professional treatment, but was merely a way
of “rendering unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar’s,” for he had
seen a masonic jewel of mine similar to one worn by the maker of
mock masons, and hence the chair and the rest of it.
A curious episode now occurred. The Imād-u-dowlet had a son,
his youngest and favourite. This fellow was guilty of every crime that
is possible. While we were in Kermanshah he had attempted his
father’s life, and actually wounded him with slugs from a pistol
discharged at a few yards’ distance. The Imād at length confined him
in chains to his chamber. At the intercession of his brothers, the
chains after forty-eight hours were removed, and in a week or so he
was received into apparent favour, and set at liberty. But from what
we learnt afterwards, this was merely a manœuvre to quiet the
minds of the townspeople—his destruction had been resolved on.
One morning a man of the Imād’s rushed into our courtyard and
implored me to start at once for Imādieh, where, it was stated, the
prince had wounded himself with his gun. I left at once on a very
good horse of Pierson’s, and galloped violently to the place.
Here I found the Imād’s doctor, Mirza Zeynal Abdeen. He was as
white as a sheet, and hurried me to the edge of the large tank; there
lay the corpse of the Imād’s son; a few servants stood round, and
seemed frightened out of their wits. Mirza Zeynal Abdeen was
beside himself, and besought me to do something.
I told him the man had been dead some time. This seemed to
astonish him. On closer inspection I found that death had been
caused by a gun-shot wound, fired with the muzzle touching, or
almost touching, the junction of the chin and neck; so close had the
weapon been placed that the flesh was burnt by the flame. The
entire charge was lodged in the brain. Nobody could give any
information, but the man’s discharged gun lay by him. I have no
doubt that the matter was really an execution, for one of the wrists
was bruised by finger-marks, and doubtless the unfortunate man had
been held down and slain with his own weapon.
An account was given that he had thrown the gun up and caught it
several times, but, missing it, that the butt struck the pavement and
the gun exploded; but the muzzle must have been nearly touching
when discharged. There being nothing more to do, I promised to
break the news to the Imād-u-dowlet, though doubtless he was well
aware of the result.
I got on the horse Pierson had lent me on account of its swiftness,
to return, but he could hardly move, so I took my servant’s. As we
crawled towards the town, my servant leading the foundered animal,
we had to take him into a village; he lay down and died, and I rode
home on the servant’s horse. On the way, every now and then, I met

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ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.396

ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.397

ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.394

4. In most cases, a wildcat strike is a violation of the labor agreement.

ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.392

ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.397

ANS: F PTS: 1 DIF: Hard REF: p.387

ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Easy REF: p.388

ANS: F PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.389

ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Easy REF: p.389

ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Easy REF: p.381

ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.385

ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Easy REF: p.400

ANS: F PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.402

ANS: F PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.381

ANS: F PTS: 1 DIF: Easy REF: p.383-384

ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.389

ANS: F PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.405

ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.405

ANS: T PTS: 1 DIF: Easy REF: p.381

ANS: F PTS: 1 DIF: Medium REF: p.381

3. Which of the following is not an impasse resolution procedure?

5. Which of the following always results in a final and binding decision?

9. In relation to a mediator, an arbitrator has:

11. Mediation is distinguished from arbitration by:

13. Fact-finding differs from arbitration in that:

18. With regards to common situs picketing:

19. _________ reduces the arbitrator's authority to "split the difference."

Kermanshah—Imād-u-dowlet—We visit him—Signs of his wealth—Man nailed to a

Kermanshah is decidedly the cheapest place in all cheap Persia.

FEMALE DANCERS AND EQUILIBRISTS.

(From a Native Drawing.)

THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS. (NAKSH-I-RŪSTAM.)

Just by Imādieh, at the base of a high cliff, is an excavated arched

Deficiency of furniture—Novel screws—Pseudo-masonry—Fate of the Imād-u-

In these early days of the Telegraph Department we all had

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