At the Court of the Amîr: A Narrative

Two days after this His Highness had a fainting attack; at least he described it as such to me. He said he had been so ill that it had been necessary to give him wine to restore his senses. He desired me to examine the wine and ascertain if it were a suitable stimulant for him. A bottle was handed to me and I poured some out into a wine-glass. It was a clear amber-coloured liquid—may be Chablis, I thought. I was about to drink it, when His Highness said,

“Khubar dar!”—“Take care, it is strong;” and he suggested my adding some sherbet.

“Chablis and sherbet!” I thought; “No, I am not a Mahomedan,” and I smiled and tossed it off.

Sword of Damocles! It was liquid fire! I swallowed and swallowed and blinked and gasped.

As expressing a rapid succession of complicated emotions my face must have been a study, for the Amîr leant back on his pillows and roared with laughter. As soon as I could get my breath I coughed out that it was a very bad wine and not at all suitable for His Highness. It was Vodki, I believe, or a Russian spirit of some sort—neat.

I went on to say that for the complaint His Highness was suffering from, every kind of wine was more or less harmful; but that, if faintness rendered it necessary, the best he could drink would be good old whisky. I knew that Pyne had brought a supply to Kabul, and when he went away on leave, he had let Stewart and Myddleton have the residue. I therefore rode off to the shops to beg a bottle. When I returned to the Palace, I placed it before His Highness, and explained how it should be taken:—One ounce of whisky to two of water, or, in extreme cases, in equal quantities. His Highness desired me to show him how to take it. It was the first and only “medicine” the Amîr asked me to taste before him. I poured out an ounce, added two ounces of water, and drank it. Then I sat down.

Presently, I began to feel a little giddy; not that I was uncomfortable—on the contrary; and it struck me what a good thing it would be to tell the Amîr an amusing story that I had suddenly thought of. I remembered, however, in time that he did not understand English, and thought that probably the point would be lost, or at any rate blunted, if it had to first penetrate an Interpreter’s head. And then it occurred to me that Vodki, or whatever the Russian abomination was, followed by a whisky peg, was not a good thing for a Physician to drink, fasting. I said to His Highness, that being unaccustomed to Shrâb (alcohol), the doses I had taken were beginning, I was afraid, to affect my wits: would he allow me to withdraw.

“Be not disturbed,” His Highness said. “I can cure you.”

He ordered a cup of strong tea, with a lemon squeezed in it, and directed me to drink it at once. It certainly did clear my head in a wonderful way. By-and-bye, I got away to my room and went to sleep in the arm-chair.

The Amîr approved of the whisky, and requested me to write at once to Mr. Pyne to order three casks. In due time they arrived.

A day or two afterwards the Amîr had an alarming head symptom. He described his feelings when I went to see him. There was a sort of aura passing from the feet to the head, buzzing in the ears, headache, and a feeling of great heaviness in the head. I was afraid the symptoms might be the forerunners of an apoplectic, or some nervous seizure. Happily, however, the head symptoms gradually subsided, and two days afterwards the pain had returned to the limbs.

Meanwhile, I had got to work again at the Hospital. The severer cases had accumulated considerably, and I had several surgical operations to do. One was a Stone operation on a small boy, which interested Prince Habibullah very much. The boy got well very quickly, and I took him, with a Workshop accident case that had recovered, to the Durbar that the Prince was holding in the Salaam Khana.

During the Amîr’s illness, Prince Habibullah had relieved His Highness of a great deal of Governmental work. Sitting for hours nearly every day, he held Durbars and gave decisions in cases of dispute. He was the Chief Civil Magistrate of the town. Minor cases were decided by the “Kôtwal,” or Chief of the Military Police of Kabul.

In addition to these Civil Magistracies there is an Ecclesiastical Court, presided over by the Chief Priest, the “Khân-i-Mullah Khan,” for the Priests are those who are learned in the Mahomedan law. There is always, however, the final right of appeal to the Sovereign: though I have heard the Amîr himself apply to the Khân-i-Mullah for instruction on certain points of law.

The duty of Prince Nasrullah was to superintend the management of the Government offices, and the work of the numerous scribes and secretaries—the Mirzas. Both Princes worked hard, and one met them in all weathers, in the blazing sun, in the hissing icy winds, the heavy snow fall, or the pouring rain, riding on their way from their houses in the city to the Durbar Hall, or the Mirza’s offices, in the Erg Palace. With their regular and daily attendance upon their duties, they shamed many of the high officials of the Kingdom, and were a living and daily lesson to the ordinary Afghan, whose motto is ever, “To-morrow, or after to-morrow.”

CHAPTER XXV.
A Kabul Winter.

The interesting Hindustani whom I have designated the “Gnat,” and who, by the way, was giving lessons in English to Prince Habibullah, began to spread reports in the bazaars concerning my personal character. As, however, I had done nothing to reproach myself with, I did not bother my head about the matter, until one day the Secretary of the British Agent, that highly-educated Mahomedan I have spoken of, called upon me and told me the nature of the rumours. Then I was more than a little annoyed. It was so abominable. Only the vile mind of this creature could have conceived the indignity of charging me—not openly, but by a whispered word here and there—with impurity. What could I do? To attempt to defend myself against a charge that was not formulated, that only lived, like the typhus poison, in filthy corners—invisible—was to accuse myself.

The Agent’s Secretary very kindly enquired whether there were anything he could do that could in any way give the lie to the rumours.

So far as I could see, the utmost that could be done was to refuse absolutely to allow the man to interpret or translate for me on any occasion whatsoever. I said as much to the Agent’s Secretary, and he advised me to write at once to the Amîr and inform him of my decision.

I therefore wrote to His Highness, saying I did not trust the man—though of course I had nothing very definite to accuse him of; and I ended my letter by saying that rather than have this man interpret for me before His Highness, I would ask His Highness’ permission to leave his service.

Lest the Amîr might think I had been instigated to write this letter by the Armenian, I asked the Agent’s Secretary to translate it for me. His Highness did not answer my letter in writing, but whenever I was called before him the Hindustani was not there.

Events in after years, however, showed me that the Amîr did look upon the matter as a quarrel between two Interpreters, an effort on the part of each of them to trip the other up. He never knew the discomfort and mental distress that I was compelled to suffer.

The Hindustani then made another move. How he worked it I do not know, but some weeks afterwards I received a letter from Her Highness the Sultana in which she desired me to again attend her. I was, however, to bring the Hindustani to interpret. I at once wrote to Her Highness and refused; sending also a letter to the Amîr acquainting him with the facts of the case. His Highness answered that I might be accompanied by another Interpreter if I wished. I informed the Sultana of the Amîr’s decision, but, as might be expected, she being a woman, I was not sent for—much to my relief.

For some weeks His Highness appeared about the same. He was better for a day or two, then worse again. I visited him frequently, though I did not prescribe for him. He sent, however, to Bombay for certain medicines I thought suitable for his case.

One day, while I was there, little Prince Mahomed Omer came to salaam his father, and the Amîr was much amused at the authoritative way the Prince—he was not yet two—ordered about the little boys by whom he was surrounded. He frightened one of them so much that the child began to cry. The Amîr laughed, and gave the Prince an orange.

“The youngster has the manner of a King,” said the Amîr.

One can only guess what the future may bring forth. The past has shown us that when the great Amîr, Dôst Mahomed, departed from this world he deputed a younger son, Shere Ali, to succeed him, and this because he was, on both mother and father’s side, of Royal descent. The elder sons, not so happy, were passed over. The successes and reverses of Shere Ali, in his contests with his brothers, is an old story.

So far as I know, Amîr Abdurrahman has never openly said whom he would wish to succeed him. I think, however, there are many indications leading one to infer that if His Highness continue to reign for another ten years, Prince Mahomed Omer will be looked upon as the heir.

There are in Kabul at the present time two distinct and opposing factions: that of the Sultana for her son’s sake, and that of Prince Habibullah.

Much as I desired to avoid being drawn into intrigue or any appearance of being attached to either party—for the matter was of no possible interest to me—I know I was looked upon as belonging to the Sultana’s party, chiefly, I believe, because of my dislike to the Hindustani “Gnat,” who belonged to the opposing faction. Nevertheless, Prince Habibullah was always most courteous and kind.

The Sultana had a very powerful following. She is the “favourite” wife, and is most liberal and generous to those with whom she comes in contact. She is of the same blood as the Amîr, and is not unlike him in decision and strength of character.

Habibullah is a man of ability, kindly and genial, but his mother was the handmaiden to one of the Queens (daughter of the Mîr of Badakshan), who, having no children, said, “Go in unto my maid, that I may have children by her.” Habibullah cannot sit in the presence of this Queen without permission: a fact which weighs with Afghan people.

I do not know what line the Indian Government would take; but the probabilities are that when the eventful moment arrives the matter will be decided before ever the British could reach Kabul. Judging by the past, I imagine the principals of one party or other would, before many days were over, be in jail, or otherwise hors de combat.

Should the Amîr live till the little Prince attain adult age and the Prince fulfil the promise of his childhood, I imagine he would hold the throne alone. He is of the type of his father. Habibullah, with the moral support of an English Resident ostensibly keeping in the background, would, I take it, rule wisely. A Resident, I think, would not need a large escort, for a man of tact would be the friend, not the rival, of the King; and the Afghans are now accustomed to the presence of Feringhis in their midst. However, I am talking of things that do not concern me.

At the end of January I asked permission to move from my quarters in the Palace and return to my house in the city. I saw more of the English engineers, Stewart and Myddleton, at this time, and it was infinitely refreshing to live again in an atmosphere of wholesome English ideas, rather than breathe the air of an Oriental Court reeking with intrigue.

Though I had my house to myself, and was not liable to be intruded upon at all hours of the day by the Page boys and Chamberlains, there were, nevertheless, I found, certain bodily discomforts and inconveniences to undergo, arising chiefly from the intense cold. Owing to the numerous doors and windows in the house, there was not a room that we could keep the bitter wind out of. I had been called to the Palace in the early winter, and had only a small stock of wood in my house. This was soon gone, and now wood was scarce and hard to get, for the Royal workshops had the first claim. The only way, therefore, to keep warm was to sit crouched on the floor close up to the charcoal sandali, and draw the quilt up to one’s chin, wearing, at the same time, postîn, overcoat, and hat. After several hours this becomes monotonous. In order to hold a book and read, or at meal times to use one’s knife and fork, it was necessary to protect the hands with thick woollen gloves. One day, in February, the weather struck me as being warmer than usual, and I found the temperature in my sitting-room had gone up to 20 degrees Fahr. This was not so bad, and my thermometer would register it; but when it was really cold, I was not able to find what the temperature was, for the mercury shrank into the bulb.

At dinner time it is exceedingly inconvenient to find you can neither break nor cut your bread: and to be obliged to break up your drinking water with a hammer is irritating. There is, I have heard, a large trade in frozen meat between England and New Zealand, and in this country I have eaten the erstwhile frozen sheep with great enjoyment. In Kabul it was not so. The joint came smoking from the fire, brought in over a pan of charcoal, but the centre, near the bone, was icy and raw: this was not nice. Frozen pickles are useless: and the same may be said of frozen ink: my letters, therefore, were written in pencil. Why the damson jam should not have advanced beyond the glutinous stage of freezing, I do not know, but it never froze solid. This worried me at the time: there seemed something unnatural about it. I dislike being hurried, and to be obliged to drink my morning cup of cocoa at once to prevent it freezing, almost made me regret my rooms at the Palace—Pages, atmosphere of intrigue and all: but I overcame this weakness.

Going to bed was a function; and I dressed carefully for the purpose. Over the woollens came a tennis coat and a sheepskin waistcoat; there were two pairs of wool socks, a dressing-gown, a pair of gloves, and a hat. The cotton wool mattress was laid on the earth-beaten floor: it was warmer than a charpoy—but harder. A buffalo rug, a fox-skin rug, and a quilt finished the arrangements. One of the soldiers of the guard had to come and put my candle out when the performance was over.

I do not know how many people died of cold, but there were a good many among the poorest. Going to the Hospital I used often to see a beggar boy of about fourteen lying naked on the snow monotonously droning,

“Az baraï Khuda, yak ticca nân bidde!”—“For the sake of God, one piece of bread give me!”

I was told he had gone about naked all his life. I missed him one day, and thought he must be frozen to death; but, no, I saw him again a year or two afterwards. Though he lay on the snow, he always chose a place sheltered from the wind, and where the sun was shining brightly.

There was an unusually heavy snowfall that winter, and the Amîr gave orders to remove the old brick bridge over the Kabul river. The bridge was very solidly built, and was said to be two hundred years old. It was situated below the mountain gorge, and just outside the workshops. His Highness considered that when the snows were melting, the great volume of water checked at the bridge piers would overflow the workshops and swamp part of the town. Future events proved the accuracy of the Amîr’s prognostication.

In the workshops the engineers had the greatest trouble to keep the steam up. Dry wood could not be got, and with wet wood the fires could not be kept going. The pipes carrying the water supply to the boiler were constantly freezing solid, and at last work with steam machinery came to a standstill.

My visits to the Amîr continued. His manner was exceedingly kind. He described his symptoms daily, and frequently spoke of again placing himself under my care. He promised me leave of absence, and said many other things that were very pleasant to hear.

The Hakims, however, bled him again and again, and his recovery was exceedingly tedious. I explained to His Highness how harmful bleeding was in Gout, and advised him not to be bled again: His Highness was displeased with me. Some days afterwards, however, he informed me that the Indian, English, and Russian newspapers, in commenting upon his case, had expressed views in regard to bleeding in harmony with mine. He has been bled many times since then.

Towards the end of February the cold began to break. I did not see any skating during the winter, so that as Kabul is the capital of the country, I doubt if this is a sport among the Afghans. Not realizing that cold in that country is so intense, I had left my skates in England, otherwise I would have astonished the natives. I have no doubt about that, although I cannot skate.

On the 1st of March the Amîr disbanded a regiment of Shiah Mahomedans: he himself is a Sûnni. This created a good deal of sensation in Kabul at the time, for there is one part of the town, Chindawal, devoted to Shiahs, though the majority of Afghans are Sûnnis.

Two days afterwards I heard there was some trouble at the Palace. I do not know all the details, for, as I said, news from the Palace filters out slowly and imperfectly. The Amîr was depressed, I take it, by his long and tedious illness, for he called his sons to him and told them that he had only some ten years to live; and that in all probability neither Habibullah nor any other of his sons would succeed him. Ishak, on the one hand, and Ayoub on the other, were candidates for the Throne, and it behoved the Princes, his sons, to be amicable one towards the other: a bundle of branches bound together was strong, but taken separately they could be easily broken.

The sun began to grow powerful, and the snow melted rapidly. Fires and the sandali became unnecessary; one had only to sit in the sun if one felt the cold.

On March the 10th it was comparatively warm. As it was my birthday, I went in the afternoon to the Palace to visit the Amîr. His Highness was at dinner. He sent me some grapes, and I sat in one of the side rooms, or alcoves, and waited. After dinner I talked to His Highness. He told me he was better, and could walk a little. He was not so thin as he had been. After talking to me for some time, he ordered a beautiful little Kataghani horse, brown with black points, to be brought from the stables, and asked me to accept it.

Shortly after this, the interesting Hindustani Interpreter—the Gnat—endeavoured to prejudice the two English engineers, Stewart and Myddleton, in His Highness’s eyes. He reported to Sirdar Usuf Khan, the Amîr’s uncle, who, nominally, superintended the workshops, that the Englishmen, though Christians, did no work on Friday. He being the only Interpreter they had, they rode to my house one evening to inform me. I directed the Armenian to write to His Highness and explain that the Engineers had given up their Sabbath to His Highness’s service; had His Highness any objection to their keeping the Mahomedan Sabbath instead of their own.

The Amîr answered that he had not the slightest objection; and he wrote to the Sirdar that it was folly to expect the men to work every day in the week. The Sirdar was a courtly old gentleman, but in the Shops there were constant frictions. He no more understood the nature of an English workman than he understood Physiology or any other Science. I think Sir Salter—then Mr.—Pyne was also somewhat of a puzzle to him. Pyne has strong characteristics and decided views, and the Sirdar Sahib had not the former, though he assumed the latter, and on a subject in which he was but ill informed.

When the thaw commenced, the Engineers endeavoured to make up for time lost during the frost by frequently working all night. There was a certain amount of work to be got through by the Mahomedan New Year’s Day, in order that a good show of arms and ammunition could be laid before the Amîr.

The last day of the old year was a Friday, and the holidays began then. At the foot of the Asmai mountains horse-racing and sports were held. Crowds of spectators lined the road, and the Grand Stand was the grey, old, rocky mountain: he had put on his holiday garb; all the lower half was crowded with gaily-dressed Afghans, sitting or standing in thousands in the blazing sun.

For the Princes and richer men tents were erected on any sufficiently level rock, and the servants, lighting a wood fire near, served them with tea, and cakes, and sweetmeats. For the poorer people there were itinerant cake merchants, sweetmeat vendors, and the Sakabi, with his water-skin and wooden cup; and for those who could afford it, there was iced sherbet—lemon, orange, or rose, in tumblers. There were toy sellers, too, with paper flags, whistles, and cheap walking-sticks from India; these were bought by the crowds who thronged the streets on their way to the mountain.

The horse-racing, over a course some five hundred yards in length, more or less, according to the fancy of the riders, and on a hard road, was, compared with what we call horse-racing, somewhat of a caricature. There were no prizes and no starters: anybody could gallop up and down the road who wished. As many did wish, and as there was no sort of order and much reckless riding, collisions were frequent. Sometimes, a horse and rider would be sent spinning. I do not know if there were many breakages, I did not go and see: I concluded they would fetch me if they wanted me. One considerable smash occurred just opposite where I was, and the friends came and gathered up the fragments that remained. They threw water in the face of the riding fragment, and he presently recovered: the ridden fragment limped painfully away.

There was “tent-pegging,” or something in a sense equivalent. There was no tent-peg, but a boy’s cap was put on the ground, and the soldiers charged at it with lances. The owner of the cap was not distressed mentally: his cap was fairly safe. The riders were very skilful in scoring the ground near, but only one or two touched the cap, and then a murmur went up from the spectators. The way the small Afghan boys gathered near to see the sport was rather horrifying: I fully expected to see one skewered: however, it was not so written in the book of Fate.

There was also “lemon-slicing.” A lemon was stuck on the end of a rod, which was planted upright in the ground. The soldiers dashed up one after another, flourishing their sabres, and looking very fierce and terrible; but they did not often hurt the lemon.

Occasionally, some man of position would join in. These were, as a rule, more skilful with both lance and sword than the soldiers were: possibly, they devoted more time to practice. My Turkestan friend, the Mirza Abdur Rashid, rode in: he was not at all unskilful with the lance. I saw, though not on this occasion, the Sirdar Abdul Kudus Khan, son of the Amîr’s cousin, and Naim Khan, the Courtier, tent-pegging and shooting at a mark while going full gallop: they were exceedingly skilful.

My small friend, Mahomed Omer, son of the Deputy Commander-in-Chief, rode in on a little white Arab. He was about thirteen, but he must have practised considerably, for he picked up the cap on his lance the first try.

The small boy who accompanied Prince Nasrullah on his visit to England this year, was the younger brother of Mahomed Omer. He had grown so, that I did not recognize him on the platform at Victoria, when the Prince arrived, until he came up and spoke to me.

There were displays of horsemanship: standing on the saddle and holding on to the reins, with the horse at full gallop; picking up a handkerchief from the ground while at a gallop, and so on: however, there was nothing but what I had seen done in England, and with greater skill. I had imagined that the Afghans were born riders, skilful swordsmen, and deadly shots; but whatever the hillmen, as a class, may be, the soldiers certainly are not remarkable.

The Princes were at the “tomasha,” but His Highness the Amîr was, of course, unable to honour the sports by his presence. I was told, indeed, that he now very rarely does so; and the result has been that the sports have fallen off considerably.

The next day was “Naû Roz,” or the New Year’s Day. I was informed that His Highness would be able to receive me at three p.m. In the morning, therefore, I rode to the Babur Badshah Gardens to salaam the Sultana, who was staying in the Bungalow there. On the way I met Mahomed Omer and complimented him on his skill with the lance. He is a bright little fellow, and he seemed greatly pleased at being complimented. He was gorgeous in scarlet and gold, and was at the head of a troop of cavalry, in his exalted post of “Commander-in-Chief” to Prince Mahomed Omer.

At the gardens we had tea and cigarettes in a tent while our congratulations were taken in to the Sultana. I did not, of course, see Her Highness, and she sent the New Year greetings by her messenger, “Sirdar”—the girl-boy.

By the time we had returned to Kabul it was three o’clock, and I rode on to the Palace.

When I arrived His Highness was being conveyed in a palanquin to the Salaam Khana, where there were arranged for his inspection, rifles, sabres, cartridges, sword-sticks, rupees, and other productions of the workshops.

His Highness was kind enough to stop and enquire how I was. He evidently remembered—as I did—that at the last big reception of this kind I had been the invalid, for he asked if I had had any return of the illness. I was happy to tell him I was well, and that my greatest wish was that he might soon be the same. While His Highness was speaking. Col. Attaullah Khan, the British Agent, came and stood near me; by the side of such a splendid man I felt a stripling, for I am but a meagre six feet with my boots on.

When the inspection of arms was over, His Highness, followed by the Princes and the Courtiers, entered the Salaam Khana and took his seat on the couch in one of the end rooms. He kindly allowed me to be seated, though everyone else stood, and taking some cigars from a box he sent them to me by a Page boy, and invited me to smoke.

Presently, the Maleks, and Merchants, and others, who wished to make New Year’s offerings, were admitted. They stood just inside the doorway, and round the lower end of the room. The Court attendants took the presents and laid them on the ground in front of the Amîr.

There were rolls of silks and satins; lamps, musical-boxes, Russian boots, vases, Japanese cabinets, sugar, sweets, inexpensive writing-cases, pocket-knives, flowers, and in the midst of the medley I noticed a pair of trouser stretchers.

His Highness did not seem very much interested in the presents, though Prince Habibullah occasionally took up an article and examined it.

When the offering of presents was completed, chairs were brought for the Princes and they sat down. Why I should have been allowed to sit while the Princes stood, I do not know, unless it were, as I sometimes thought, that the Amîr wished to guard the Princes from the danger of acquiring a too exalted notion of their own personal importance.

Prince Habibullah was always courteous, and struck me as having much more savoir vivre than Prince Nasrullah.

At five p.m. Messrs. Stewart and Myddleton were received by His Highness. Chairs were placed for them and tea was brought. After the usual polite salutations His Highness asked Stewart how old he was. The question, no doubt, was suggested to the Amîr’s mind by the fact that Stewart’s hair and beard were silvery white. Afghans, when their hair turns grey, almost invariably, unless they are Priests, dye it black or red. His Highness’s hair and beard were very grey when he was ill, but were blue-black afterwards, and I could not help connecting this remarkable fact with the many bottles of hair-dye I saw in the stores.

His Highness was surprised to hear that Stewart was only forty-eight. He laughed when he heard it, and said he thought he must be a hundred.

After we had drunk tea permission was given us to withdraw, and we rode home. During the reception the Armenian had translated. Waiting outside and expecting to be sent for, was the Hindustani, but though Prince Habibullah asked where he was, no one answered.

CHAPTER XXVI.
A Kabul Spring.

The holidays lasted a week. The sports were continued at Asmai, and in the evening fireworks were let off in the town.

Whatever the weather may be, postîns and winter clothing are never left off till Naû Roz, and never continued afterwards. The weather, however, in Afghanistan behaves more according to rule and is less eccentric than in England. I became clothed in a tunic of camel’s hair and a leather belt. Around the brow the awe-inspiring turban was wreathed in many folds—heavy but picturesque and protecting. The camel-hair cloth was given me by a grateful Afghan because I cut off his little son’s toe. He also gave me two ancient China bowls. These were intelligent articles, for if at any time food should be put into them containing poison they would at once break themselves into a thousand pieces—at least, so I was informed; I did not, however, put the bowls to the inconvenience of exhibiting their power of discernment, for it seemed better to keep them as they were than to take them home in a thousand pieces.

At this time I found that the Engineers had got a book, and I borrowed it, having had nothing new to read for many months. The book was that ancient and gruesome collection of stories called “The Night Side of Nature.” The narratives in it were similar to those that the Review of Reviews laid before Seekers after Truth, under the title of “Real Ghost Stories.”

It was a dreadful book. Read it alone in the haunted wing of a house, and in a town full of the memory of murders and midnight assassins; where in the dead silence of the night unaccountable noises force themselves upon the startled ear; and see how you like it.

I knew my house was haunted, because I had been told so.

One evening, absorbed in reading, I became conscious that the windows rattled, a door slammed, and suddenly, right over my head, there was a sound as of a heavy body rolling rapidly along; and a horrible shriek split the air. The awe-inspiring volume slipped from the nerveless fingers (anatomically this is not accurate), and palpitating with a wordless horror, I sat powerless. For a long minute all was still: then the sound as of stealthy footsteps struck on the straining ear—on the tympanic membrane as a matter of fact. The door moved slowly on its creaking hinge, and—

“Kîst!” “who is it!” rang in my ears.

It was my own voice, hoarse and unrecognizable, uttering the cry. I clutched the ready revolver and cocked it.

“Sahib! dead man, all is buried in garden. His bones me see.”

It was my Indian cook who brought the information. This, then, was the cause of the unnatural manifestations. Doubtless, the house had been the scene of a horrible murder, and the criminals had hastily hidden the ghastly proof of their deed in the garden; but murder will out, and the unrestful spirit of the victim was wandering around.

Now I had studied Forensic Medicine and had read Gaboriau. It behoved me, therefore, to work out this crime, track the murderers, and bring them to justice.

“Ustughonha biya inja,”—“Bring hither the bones,” I said.

I know the human bones, every ridge, furrow, and knob, from the fifth Metatarsal to the Sphenoid. Many a night in the years gone by had I sat poring over a bone, while the stars twinkled in the heavens—at least, I expect they did; not that it matters.

The servant returned, and with horror and disgust depicted on his swarthy face laid a small bone on the table in front of me.

“But where are the others? Bring the skull, man—the head.”

“Sahib, other me not see.”

With an eagle glance I pierced him, and he shrunk back.

“Drivelling idiot, son of uncleanness, scoundrel, whose heart is blacker than his face—this is not a man’s bone. Bring me human bones.”

“Sahib, other me not got.”

“Get some, then, and at once;” and he fled from the room.

Was I to be trifled with in this way; to be made small and of no account? I was prepared to unravel the mystery, and was I to be turned aside by a servant—an Indian servant—a black Indian servant?

But I cooled down afterwards, and by-and-bye, when he came in to enquire if I wanted anything, I said, No! he could go to bed.

In April, the weather was beautiful, sunny and bright, without being too hot. The number of patients coming to the Hospital increased as travelling became easier. I saw about a hundred and thirty cases daily. Some came great distances—from Turkestan, Kandahar, Herat, and the borders of Kaffristan.

On the 5th of April, His Highness sent word that he wished to see me. When I arrived at the Palace I found His Highness alone, but for one Secretary and the Page boys. He looked much better and stronger than he had done for a long time. He was attired in native costume, in a bright coloured silk robe, a small white turban wound round a gold-embroidered cap, and loose white Oriental pyjamas.

I stopped some distance from the couch and bowed: His Highness beckoned me to a chair near him and enquired if I were well. Then he continued reading a letter the Secretary had just written, and cigarettes were brought me. It seemed a pity to smoke, for the air of the Palace was sweet with the scent of freshly-cut flowers, hyacinths, wallflowers, and narcissi.

Suddenly, His Highness looked up and asked me when I should like to start for England: he said the weather would soon be hot and unsuitable for travelling in India; and before long, storms at sea were to be feared.

I replied that I was awaiting His Highness’s orders. He asked me how long leave I should like; and when I said I left that entirely to him, he enquired whether six months would be sufficient.

His Highness said also, that he would let me know before my return in what part of the country he was to be found, whether in Herat, Kandahar, Turkestan, or Kabul, so that I could join him. He desired me to draw the plans of a house such as I should like to live in, and he would build it for me.

If my wife, after I were married, wished to return with me, he should be pleased; and should she after some months find the climate uncongenial, his permission would be granted her to return to England. Should she, however, prefer to remain in England, leave of absence would be granted me every two years. His Highness also told me many interesting things: among them the reason why Afghanistan is poverty-stricken and powerless, and he sketched methods in which the resources of the country might be developed if only his people had sense enough to follow out his directions; but, as he said, there were so few he could trust.

This very man before him, the Secretary, could not be trusted even to write a letter correctly; and yet, he said, this man and his brother were secretaries to Amîr Shere Ali; and more, they had the keeping of the King’s Signet. Why, therefore, with such men in power, should not the country have become weak, poverty-stricken, and on the verge of ruin!

One of his designs, he told me, was to again employ an English geologist, and when the presence of valuable minerals was made known, to open up roads and start mining operations.

His Highness’s words were words of wisdom: but looking back, as I do, with a knowledge of the past, I am greatly in doubt as to whether the nature of the Oriental will allow to any European geologist in the Amîr’s service anything like a fair chance of success in his endeavours. From the outset his good faith is doubted. I heard from Captain Griesbach, C.I.E., how hampered he had been on every hand; how impossible it was made for him to do any useful work; for the whisper had been spread—even I heard it—that he carried a note-book, and if he found a mineral of value it was not the Amîr to whom the fact was reported, but the British Government. Disgusted that his efforts should be so curtailed and his powers made useless, the Captain left the service.

The next geologist who entered the service was Mr. Arthur Collins, F.G.S., who was recommended to the Amîr’s Agent by the Home Office. His experiences were very similar to those of Captain Griesbach. He was followed about rigorously by a guard, and from whatever place he took a specimen, from the same place an official in his ignorance took what he considered to be a similar specimen: this was to act as a check on the geologist! After a few months Mr. Collins, new to the country, photographed some interesting geological formations that he saw. At once it was reported that the new geologist was a political agent spying out the nakedness of the land. He was recalled to Kabul and kept, as Captain Griesbach had been, for months doing nothing, till, in disgust, he also resigned. Whether any other able man will in the future consider it other than waste of time to work against such obstacles—petty, intangible, but real—I know not. The game seems hardly worth the candle: unless, indeed, one thinks fit to descend and meet the Oriental on his own ground: to employ bribery; or, having learnt the language, to indulge in intrigue and trip his enemies one by one:—not a difficult matter—for that any educated Englishman of ordinary intelligence is a match for an Afghan or Hindustani I have not a doubt, granted that he cares to employ his brain in such unclean work. Pitch, however, is proverbially defiling, and the triumph is lost if one comes out of a game besmeared.

His Highness desired me to inform him as soon as I had finished the arrangements I wished to make at the Hospital to enable the Hindustani assistants to carry on the work during my absence; then I was to start on my journey home. He said many kind things to me; among others, that he considered me a man worthy of trust. He added that there were certain orders he should commission me to execute in London.

These, I found, were to be the sending out of materials—silks, satins, and cloth; and jewellery of various kinds. My education, however, having been medical, I was not in any sense a business man, and it occurred to me that this was a suitable opportunity for acceding to the Armenian’s request, and taking him to London with me: he could attend to these matters better than I.

A few days afterwards, therefore, I wrote to His Highness, and asked permission for the Armenian to accompany me to England. His Highness granted my request, and, when the time arrived, generously gave the Armenian two thousand rupees to pay his expenses.

We did not, however, start on the journey so soon as I had expected, for His Highness desired me to paint his portrait again. Accordingly, a few days afterwards I went to the Palace, but I found on examination that His Highness had not recovered strength sufficiently to enable him to undergo the fatigue of sitting for a portrait. This seemed likely to put a stop to my home going for an indefinite time; until a thought struck me—why should not I paint a portrait from the photograph that the Sultana had given me. I said nothing to His Highness, but set to work.

While I was working at this portrait I saw some extraordinary clouds come quivering along just above the tree tops. They seemed almost as though they were made up of myriads of little birds. I learnt what they were soon enough. The locusts had come. The year before I had seen in Turkestan swarms of little black birds, the only birds, they told me, that feed on locusts. The Amîr had made an order that all who killed these birds were to be fined. As, however, they had a habit of devouring mulberries as well as locusts, many of them were killed. Curiously enough the locusts did not settle in Kabul, though on the outskirts of the town one occasionally saw a tree leafless. They came from the direction of Peshawur, and at Jelalabad and other places on the way they had worked havoc.

Towards the end of April the portrait was finished, and I went to the Palace to lay it before the Amîr.

Entering the Palace gardens I met little Prince Mahomed Omer riding out on horseback surrounded by his guard, with his Lâla or Tutor walking by his side. He looked very dignified and proud as he sat his horse alone. The Lâla whispered to him, and he answered my bow by touching his cap: he was a year and eight months old. When I reached the Palace His Highness sent a Page to conduct me to one of the gardens where he said he should be sitting very shortly.

We went through a passage under the wall of the fort, across the moat, and round to the gardens on the west side of the Palace. There were several tents erected, but the Amîr’s, which was a gorgeous one, lined with crimson and white, with glass doors, was pitched on a circular piece of ground, surrounded by a narrow artificial stream, edged with Pampas grass. The circular stream was fed by a perfectly straight stream, edged thickly with Pampas grass, and the water flowed away by a similar stream on the right. All around were flower-beds and trees, and in the distance, to the west, the Paghman Mountains, capped with snow. Behind was the Palace. In front of the Amîr’s tent a large awning was stretched.

Here on the carpets the Chief Officers of the army were seated chatting together. Crossing the stream by a little bridge, I joined them, and a chair was brought. For the Amîr, was an arm-chair covered with blue velvet and old gold coloured satin, and in front of it a tiger skin footrug. Out in the garden two or three hundred soldiers were drawn up: it was a military Durbar.

Presently the Officers jumped up and joined the soldiers, and I found the Amîr was approaching. He came in a palanquin with a guard of soldiers, and in front marched the Page boys, each armed with a small rifle. His Highness was dressed in a grey military uniform embroidered with gold, and a grey astrakhan hat with a diamond star. He looked very handsome, but rather pale.