A day or two afterwards, I paid a formal visit to Prince Habibullah. He was living in the bungalow of the Bâbur Gardens.

It was a pretty garden with fountains, flowers and trees, situated on the slope of the mountains outside Kabul, in a sort of natural concavity in the hills.

The Prince received me most kindly, and talked for some time, asking me many questions about London. He desired me also to paint another portrait of himself; which, by the way, I never had the opportunity of doing.

One afternoon in the next week I again visited His Highness, the Amîr, taking with me the letter of the lady missionary who desired to enter the Amîr’s service.

While I was waiting in the great hall, smoking cigarettes, my old friend, General Nassir Khan, came and chatted with me, saying how pleased he was to see me back again. Another friend also came and spoke to me, the Brigadier Hadji Gul Khan. I do not know if he was as pleased to see me as the General, for he had been living in my house while I was in London, and had to turn out when I came back; however, he expressed himself as delighted.

It was late in the afternoon when I arrived at the Palace, and when I was called in to the Amîr the dusk of the evening had fallen. As soon as I entered the room, His Highness called my attention to a most picturesque evening effect that could be seen from his window. A brilliant gleam of light appeared between the clouds in the sky, the mountains could be seen shadowy but distinct; the middle ground was in deep shadow, and in the foreground were the Palace gardens and fountains lit by the light from the Palace.

His Highness read the translation of the lady missionary’s letter, and said, that at present the country was too unsettled in condition for it to be a suitable field for the efforts of an English lady doctor. When, however, Mrs. Gray accompanied me to Kabul, the lady might travel with her. His Highness spoke some time, and told me that in future, when I wished to see him, there was no need for me to write and make an appointment: he would receive me at any time, day or night. I got home at nine o’clock in the evening and wrote to the lady missionary, telling her as nearly as I could His Highness’s words. Mrs. Gray never went to Kabul, nor I believe did the lady missionary.

CHAPTER XXIX.
The Cholera.

Four days after this was Good Friday, April 15th, and three cases of cholera occurred in the town. It was “Ramazàn,” when good Mahomedans fast all day and eat enormously at night. Knowing as I did something of the careless nature of Asiatics: of the awful condition, sanitarily speaking, of the town of Kabul: of the insufficiency and impurity of the water supply: it seemed to me that the disease must spread with deadly rapidity.

The conjecture was only too correct.

The Europeans in Kabul readily understanding the serious condition of affairs, were easily induced to take suitable precautions, such as the avoidance of fruit and uncooked vegetables; the drinking of water only after it had been boiled and filtered; and the careful abstention from any kind of excess in either eating or drinking.

For the natives, I ordered to be posted about in the bazaars, notices in Persian advising similar precautions; and described a simple filter in which after water had been boiled it could be run through sand and charcoal; for sand and charcoal were both of them to be easily obtained in the town. I sent an inspector—my Burma policeman—with a band of soldiers to examine if the city scavengers did their duty, and to order the removal from the town of all filth that they could get access to. I brought forth all the barrels of disinfectant powder that the Hospital contained, but which was of necessity pitiably insufficient, and ordered its free use in all suspicious places.

At first, cases among the soldiers were reported to me, and I attempted isolation: but soon this was utterly impossible, for the men fell in numbers that increased alarmingly day by day. In the town the disease, as is usual with cholera, was most erratic in its onslaughts. I endeavoured to institute the reporting of cases to me as soon as they arose, but it was a useless attempt, and scores died before I even heard of them. Two days after the commencement, namely, on April 17th, it was reported, that between six a.m. and six p.m. there were a hundred and eighty-five corpses carried out of Kabul for burial. The number of deaths was, I heard, reported daily to His Highness, though to me this was of less importance than the daily number of fresh cases. The sick soon ceased calling for Hakims, and their friends came in increasing crowds to my house for European medicines.

I gave them pills containing opium and acetate of lead, to be taken at certain intervals, to the number of three. No food nor drink was to be taken; but to allay the intense thirst the patient might suck ice. For the severe abdominal pain mustard poultices, and for the agonizing cramps in the limbs massage, were to be employed. This was the general treatment, varied of course for special cases and complications.

Day by day the great shadow deepened over the city. A sickening dread was in the heart of each; for who might not be the next victim? Men gathered together and cheered themselves with forced gaiety, and bhang, or sat with terror-stricken faces waiting for death. Wailing was in every house, and one could not ride ten yards without meeting parties of mourners carrying out fresh victims to the graveyard.

“The cholera is in the air,” they said.

The Amîr ordered processions to march to the Mosques with banners and music and pray for deliverance. Can one believe it! but such was the paralysing effect of “Kismet,” or of terror, in the town, that the men were driven to the Mosques with sticks by the soldiers ere they would move.

With the fatalism of their nature it was not to be hoped that they would take the precautions to avoid infection—ordinary and simple though they were—that I had pointed out.

The bodies of the dead were washed in the Kabul river, from which most of the drinking water of the town was obtained! They were carried through the gorge by the river-side and buried near the road at the foot of the Asmai Mountain.

If a man were thirsty he drank whatever water was at hand: out of an irrigation ditch fouled with wayside filth, from a polluted well, or the Kabul river. So far from avoiding fruit and vegetables the townspeople ate of them largely.

When men dropped down in the Durbar, and the Palace attendants were seized, the Amîr and the Court moved from Endekki to Rish Khor, in the direction of the Paghman Hills.

As I was needed among the sick, His Highness did not withdraw me from the town. I was living between Chandawal and the gardens around Timur’s Tomb, and soon the cholera spread its wings over us. The houses near me were made desolate, and one of my servants lay dying in the garden.

This man was an Afghan hillman, a good fellow, cheery, and really, it seemed to me, honest. No one told me when he was first taken, for he said—

“Why should the Doctor Sahib be troubled for such as I, he has enough work with others.”

The next day when the pains and the cramps came on, one of the servants reported the matter to me. I went to the man at once, but it was too late; he was collapsed, with sunken eyes, his nose was peaky and blue, the skin of his body cold and his hands shrivelled. I looked at the other servants and asked why I was not told of this before.

None of them answered. The man seemed grateful that I had seen him, but he died in the night.

I visited a good many at their houses. It would have been absurd to wait for an order from the Amîr at a time such as this; sometimes I took the Armenian to translate, at other times I went alone, for I knew enough Persian to get along with. My guard—often a single or a couple of soldiers—waited outside the house while I went in. A guard was really superfluous, for no one was likely to hurt me: on the contrary, I was welcomed with every sign of gratitude.

As regards the form of treatment I had adopted, I found it successful in a great many cases, though the proportion of those who recovered, compared with the number of deaths in the town, was doubtless excessively small. Hundreds, however, took the medicine whom I never saw. Some would carry out the instructions I gave them to the letter, others would take the medicine but consult their friends as to the instructions. These cases did not do so well, and I ceased attending where I was not obeyed.

On the 21st of April, the cholera spread to Rish Khor, and there was an exodus of the Court to the Paghman Mountains. Here the water was good, tumbling down in many little cascades from the hills. One day I was seized with vomiting and was ill, and the Amîr hearing of it sent to enquire how I was. Happily by the time the messenger arrived I was better. Soon the road between Paghman and the infected city was closed, and sentries were posted to cut off all communication.

In the Arm Foundry the native workmen dropped down at the benches, and work was stopped for want of men to do it.

I was called to see one of the storekeepers of the foundry, Gholam Nuksh Ban, who was seized. I had hopes for him, and the second day he was better. After that he ceased following the instructions I gave, and took the advice of Hakims and friends. I found him drinking curds and whey, and large quantities of water: I left him therefore. Vomiting returned with excessive violence and he died. Before he died, however, he gave into my hands a magazine rifle that I had bought for the Amîr in London, but which had been detained at the Frontier and afterwards sent on.

The Armenian went the round of the bazaars to inspect the food sold. He was not a skilled inspector, but he could at least distinguish rancid butter, sour milk, putrid meat, or decomposing vegetables, when he saw them.

At this time the Hazaras broke out in rebellion, and the locusts invaded Kabul again. The latter, wise creatures, did not stay; they passed on.

I received an order to attend one of the Chamberlains of Prince Habibullah, and I went to his house. To see a stranger in the grip of cholera is bad; but to see a man you know, is a horror that catches you in the throat. There were the shrunken features and ashy-grey face of a dreadful ghost of the man I knew. I tried hard to save this man’s life. Visiting him time after time, I made his men do as I said. The look in the eyes of a man when he greets you, feeling the dread phantom loosening its hold and his life coming back to him, is a thing to remember.

The Dabier-ul-Mulk, Chief Secretary to the Amîr, and the man, I suppose, most trusted by His Highness, was seized. I was sorry I received no order to attend him. He died.

Of the four Englishmen who were in Kabul at the onset of the disease none were ill—with the exception of my own slight attack.

At the end of six weeks the cholera lessened in severity in the town and spread more in the surrounding villages. It returned, however, again and again, and the mortality was excessive. By the beginning of June I was informed that eleven thousand deaths had been reported to His Highness in Kabul and its neighbourhood.

Among other stories I heard at the time was one of a man falling and dying just outside the town, near the execution ground. The body was not seen till the following morning, when a man riding by saw the pariah dogs that prowl in that neighbourhood snarling and worrying over something.

Another story, less hideous and perhaps more interesting was this: A man coming up to a group standing in the street said—

“A relative of mine is ill with this disease.”

Said one of the group—

“Why go you not at once to the English Doctor, he is giving medicine.”

“Nay,” answered the man, “the British Government sent him here to poison as many as he can.”

“Khair,” said a third, “not so. To my wife, ill with this disease, he gave a medicine: she is now well.”

“Beshak,” said a fourth. “Undoubtedly; but the Sirkar-i-Engrez send him that by curing us he may gain our friendship. Thus they hope to draw away the people and the country from Amîr Sahib, that they may come themselves and rule us.”

Meanwhile another Englishman, Mr. Clemence, had arrived. He brought with him from England two or three thoroughbred stallions and some hackneys, for the improvement of the Amîr’s stud. He had, however, been directed to make a detour and avoid Kabul, and had been conducted to Faizabad, where he took up his quarters. Shortly afterwards he rode into Kabul to visit the other Englishmen: a woeful time to arrive in a strange town.

About the middle of June we had violent thunder storms and heavy rain, a most unusual occurrence at that time of the year, and the weather became cool, much cooler than it was in April.

The cholera now appeared to be dying out, and men began to draw their breath again and to recover from the oppressive dread. I wrote to His Highness and enquired his health. He replied that he was well, and invited me to visit him at Paghman.

It is a beautiful ride of about fifteen miles. First there is the Chahardeh Valley, with cornfields, hedges, and gardens; then the incline at the foot of the mountains; the Paghman Valley, and a last steep climb to the Royal residence.

It was very cool at Paghman; there were trees, flowers, and waterfalls, but the corn instead of being ripe was green. Almost directly we arrived at the Palace I was shown into the room where His Highness was sitting, and he greeted me most kindly. He referred to the cholera, and reminded me that I had told him at my last interview how very little sickness there was, so that Doctors and Hakims had very little to do.

Tea and cigarettes were brought, and His Highness directed the Pages to offer me the cakes and biscuits that were brought for his own breakfast.

By-and-bye there were some soldiers brought in, in chains. His Highness called my attention to them, and told me the story of their offences.

It was quite a long story. They had formed a conspiracy against their Captain, whom they had accused of oppression and other evils. His Highness dilated at some length upon their iniquities, and finally said—

“What can one do with such men?”

They threw themselves on the ground, crying—

“Tobah! tobah!”—“Alas! alas!”

The Amîr said—

“Nay! the time is past for ‘tobah.’ You have admitted before the Priest that the accusation you made against your officer was false.”

One began to say that he was “Amîr Sahib’s servant.”

“What word is this?” thundered the Amîr, “my servant!! This General is my servant, this man and this (the Treasury Officer and the Deputy Commander-in-Chief), these are my servants. You? You are the dog of my servants!”

“What shall I do to you?” he said, as they stood quaking. Then he added,

“You shall be taken from here to a room apart, there shall you sit and debate among yourselves what your punishment shall be, and to-morrow you shall again be brought before me.”

Then they were hurried away.

What the choice of each one was I do not know, but I had occasion to learn the choice of some of them. A few days afterwards on visiting the Sherpur Hospital I saw four or five of the men. They each greeted me with a wan smile and held up the left arm—the hand had been severed at the wrist joint.

His Highness then continued talking to me concerning the causes of cholera, and he ordered a specimen of Paghman drinking water to be brought. While I was examining it, the windows commenced rattling, and I thought vaguely that the wind must have risen very suddenly. Hearing a bustle I looked up and saw the Pages hurrying together and the Amîr standing. I jumped up at once. A moment or two afterwards His Highness sat down again, motioning me to do the same. He said—

“Did you not recognize the cause of that noise?”

“No, Sir,” I answered, “I thought it was the wind.”

He laughed and said—

“It was an earthquake! Another time you must be quicker and get out of the house.” He said that the motion of the earth in an earthquake, at any given spot, was in a vertical, not a horizontal direction. Were it in a horizontal direction, he said, the very mountains would fall. Being in a vertical direction the pressure on the beams of a house, owing to the weight of the roof, becomes excessive, and they are likely to give way. For this reason it is advisable to get out into the open when an earthquake commences.

Soon after this His Highness wrote a few words on a slip of paper, and calling the Armenian to him he handed him the paper. When the Armenian returned to me he whispered that the Amîr had increased my pay considerably. I commenced to thank His Highness, but he smiled, and silenced me by raising his hand.

About four o’clock, dinner was brought. For me a European one was provided, the only peculiarity of which was that the soup followed the fish.

After dinner, His Highness asked me if I was returning to Kabul that night, or whether I would remain at Paghman till the morning. As I had six horses with me I decided to return. His Highness asked me before I left to visit the “Ferrash-bashi,” or “Keeper of the Carpets,” who was ill. This was the gentleman I met first in Turkestan, who struck me as being “not such a villain as he looked.”

Accordingly, I called upon him at his house in Paghman, which was some distance down the hill.

I found he had had a stroke, and was paralyzed on one side. I gave him advice, and said I would ride over in a day or two to see him again. Night came on as we were riding home, and we had to do the last two or three miles at a walk.

At this time Mr. Pyne was on his way back to Kabul after the termination of his leave; and two days after my visit to Paghman he arrived in the town, bringing with him Mr. Arthur Collins, who had entered the service as geologist. Being well mounted they had ridden the last two stages in a day, arriving in Kabul in the evening. Coming so quickly they were ahead of their baggage, and had had nothing to eat since the early morning. A dinner was soon provided, and I sent them plates, knives, and forks; and blankets for the night.

Several other Englishmen had entered the service, who arrived the next day with the baggage. There were two more assistant engineers; a mining assistant to Mr. Collins; a gardener, and a lapidary. The last did not stay long, as it was found that the native lapidaries could do ordinary work; and extraordinary work, such as the Amîr hoped for, was, I understood, only possible with special machinery. About a month afterwards two other Englishmen arrived, a tanner and a currier from Yorkshire: so that at this time there were no less than fourteen Englishmen in Kabul.

The day after the arrival of the Englishmen I rode over to Paghman again to see the Ferrash-bashi. Mr. Walter, the tailor, who wished to try a coat on the little Prince Mahomed Omer, accompanied me. I found my patient no worse, and after lunching off some delicious Paghman cherries I went on to the Palace to salaam His Highness.

After salutations, tea, and cigarettes, His Highness told me the story of a severe illness he suffered from when he was a youth. He was a General in his father’s army, and was so ill that he had to be carried to the wars on a charpoy. He was hoisted on to men’s shoulders, or on to a house top, or hill, to see the battles. The Hakims told him that the illness he suffered from was due to the presence of a large worm or snake in his stomach. Medicine after medicine was used without avail: and large quantities of iced water were drunk with the intention of chilling the creature and driving it out. This being unsuccessful an idea struck the Amîr: he abstained from food for many hours, and then ordered to be prepared a very delicious and savoury dinner, and he sat with this in front of him hoping to tempt the worm. It was successful, and feeling the creature crawling up his throat he waited; then seizing the head he drew it forth.

“Thus did I succeed in getting rid of the vile creature,” said the Amîr, and, suiting the action to the word, he appeared to be drawing a rope from his mouth, hand over hand.

In a serious and profoundly interesting account of a Royal illness and cure, it was exceedingly improper for me to be affected by the humorous side of the narrative; but, try as I would to prevent it, a shadow of a smile appeared. His Highness noticing it looked very straight at me and said—

“I tell you this for your own guidance. I have here a man suffering from the same disease. Him I desire you to examine. Administer such medicines as you deem suitable, giving also due weight to the narrative I have related of my own sufferings and cure, that thus his recovery may be ensured.”

I found that the patient was suffering from a disease that was, perhaps, less interesting than that His Highness suffered from: he had cancer of the stomach. I am sorry to say I was of necessity less successful in treating him than His Highness had been in treating himself.

After some further talk with His Highness, I retired and rode back to the Ferrash-bashi’s. It seems that the last time I had gone to see His Highness, he had ordered tents and dinner to be brought for me to the patient’s house: they arrived about half-an-hour after we had left. This time, therefore, we stayed. The tents were put up on the grass in the cherry orchard: a couch, covered with yellow and purple silk, was brought from the Palace and dinner arrived. The dishes had been taken before His Highness for approval: the tray was then covered with a white cloth and sealed before him. I was informed of the arrival of dinner: the seal was broken in my presence; and the dishes made hot at a fire on the grass outside my tent. I dined: then after more cherries and a smoke, I retired to my gorgeous couch, well-pleased with myself and everybody else.

The next morning, after breakfast, we rode back to Kabul. I was going down the long slope from the Paghman Hills at a smart trot, when I heard a sudden exclamation, and, looking back, saw the Armenian and his horse go headlong: he was riding the brute of mine that stumbled. I shouted to a soldier to catch my bridle, and sprang off to see what the damage was, for the horse had rolled over the Armenian’s leg. He was crushed and bruised a good deal, and the skin scraped off his leg, but there were no breakages. He had, however, a bump on his head big enough for all practical purposes. We sat for a little by the wayside till he had recovered, then he got on another horse, and we went the rest of the way at a walk.

After dinner, I luxuriated in a long chair opposite the window. The view was the sky and an apple-tree laden with fruit: beyond were vines, apricot, and almond trees; in the distance over the tree-tops was the purple and shadowy summit of a mountain. The doves were coo-cooing, and the sparrows chirping. Later, the moon came out and the hoophoe cried “Hood-hood.”

CHAPTER XXX.
Another Winter.

A week after this, July 4th, was the Festival of Îd, and in the morning I rode with the Armenian to Paghman to salaam His Highness. The other Englishmen followed later in the day. We arrived about eleven a.m. The review of troops and prayers were finished, and His Highness had just taken his seat in the Durbar Hall. I was admitted at once into the presence, and bowing said, through the Armenian, that I wished His Highness all happiness. A chair was then ordered to be placed for me in a bay window: it was not so near His Highness as usual, and I was wondering why, when the Armenian whispered—

“It is a Durbar of Chiefs and Maleks.”

Presently the hall began to fill, but His Highness allowed no one to be placed between himself and me, and even ordered a vase of flowers on the table in front of him to be moved so that he could see me distinctly.

The visitors were Army Officers and Chiefs from all parts of the country; Turkomans, Hazaras, and Afghans. I rather wished myself out of it, fearing that my visit had been inopportune.

At the end of the room in an arm-chair by an open window sat His Highness. Outside were the guard and a crowd of some hundreds of people. In a chair on the Amîr’s left, and at some little distance, sat Prince Habibullah: he was attired in a scarlet uniform with plumed helmet. Everyone else sat on the ground. On His Highness’s right were Prince Nasrullah, Sirdar Usuf, the Amîr’s uncle, and the British Agent: then came the principal military officers; and all round the room the Chiefs and Maleks.

Seeing the British Agent I was relieved, feeling sure that, after all, my visit was not an intrusion. I could not but admire His Highness’s tact in the way in which, having allowed me to be present unofficially in a State Durbar, he considered the European feeling of dignity in allowing me a chair with no one between himself and me; and considered also the jealous pride of the Afghans in placing me in the window, and, as it were, outside the circle.

His Highness addressed his audience for some little time, chiefly in Pushtu but partly in Persian. It did not concern me, and I paid no attention. Glancing out of the window where I was sitting I saw one of His Highness’s guard stationed there with fixed bayonet. As he caught my eye he salaamed and smiled. I could not think at first who he was: then I remembered I had attended him in Turkestan for double pneumonia when he was very dangerously ill. He had recovered, and I saw no more of him till this day: he had grown so plump that at first I did not recognize him.

When the talking was over sweetmeats were brought, and His Highness sent me a plateful from his table. Outside were bands of music: at one time a native band with flageolets and drums was playing, then would follow a brass band, afterwards the bagpipes playing Scotch tunes. In the Hall at the lower end were dancing boys, singers, and musicians. These continued their performances during lunch, which was brought in at three o’clock. For me there was a slight innovation. His Highness ordered a dinner-napkin to be placed on the little table in front of me. The waiter did not quite understand the management of it, for he insisted upon one edge of it being put on the table under the plate and the other on my knees: finally, however, I was allowed to have it my own way, chiefly by the Armenian’s instrumentality: learning all about these things was part of his education in England.

After dinner came fruit—cherries and mulberries, and finally cigarettes and tea. Then I asked permission to withdraw and came away.

In August the cholera, which had returned to Kabul, began again to attain serious proportions. I had drawn up with some care a Paper on the precautions to be adopted to prevent a return of the disease. I was perforce compelled to allow the Hindustani Interpreter—the Gnat—to take possession of it for the purpose of translation. I need scarcely say that I never saw or heard anything of the paper afterwards. The Armenian at this time was very busily employed in translating for some others of the Englishmen, for the supply of Interpreters was lamentably small. In the Hospitals I, of course, could manage without one, but for conversations with His Highness or for the translation of writings my knowledge of the language was inadequate.

Though none of the English were seized with cholera, the climate of Kabul affected the health of most of them deleteriously. Some had fever severely: others bowel complaints; and the gardener, Mr. Wild, a Yorkshireman, who had been working very hard in the sun, laying out gardens and digging, went down with heat apoplexy. He was dangerously ill, and I attended him; but some interesting and engaging scoundrel spread the report that he was shirking his work and lying intoxicated in his room. As he received an order to leave the service I wrote to His Highness detailing the facts of the case. His Highness at once desired Wild to be brought to Paghman, as soon as his condition would allow. When he was taken there His Highness most kindly kept him in the cool air of the mountains until he recovered. After this Wild, by my advice, wore a turban in the sun instead of a solar topee. A pith topee would have been a sufficient protection, but there was none to be got in the bazaars, and sending money to Peshawur for anything was a procedure of doubtful success.

One day a soldier on horseback arrived at my house to call me to visit Prince Nasrullah who, he said, was ill. His Highness at this time was living in a bungalow set in a beautiful garden on the slope near the Paghman Mountains. I started off immediately. After a nine or ten miles’ ride we reached Prince Nasrullah’s bungalow, and at once I was shown into the room where the Prince was sitting. It appeared to be full of people—Officers, Hakims, Pages, and Chamberlains.

After the usual salutations a chair was placed for me, and tea and cigarettes brought. The Prince held a polite conversation with me for some little while, and I began to wonder if I had not misunderstood the messenger, when he said His Highness was ill. Presently, however, the Prince explained that he was suffering great pain. I enquired where the pain seized him. He said that a worm had partly eaten one of his teeth, and this caused him pain. I thought it quite likely that this would be painful, and asked, might I examine the tooth. An arm-chair was placed in a convenient position facing the window, and His Highness seated himself, politely opening his mouth to allow me every facility in examining the worm-eaten tooth.

After a careful examination I gave my opinion that the tooth should be removed. The Prince at once consented to the operation, and a soldier was sent galloping off to the Kabul Hospital for the case of tooth instruments. The Prince conversed with me cheerfully for a time while I smoked. By-and-bye he seemed to become thoughtful, and presently he said he was a little doubtful about the advisability of removing the tooth: perhaps the application of a suitable medicine might relieve the pain and check the disease. I explained that the immediate pain might indeed be removed by a medicine, but that it would probably return, and that the disease had made such progress that the tooth would, if left, be a source of constant annoyance. His Highness was silent for a time, but presently he expressed his doubts as to the possibility of extracting the tooth; so far as he could judge there was nothing but a shell left: was it not exceedingly likely that the shell would crush up and leave him in a worse plight than he at present was? I said that a calamity of that nature was of course possible, as he, in his wisdom had foreseen, but that my hopes and prayers were that it might not occur. By-and-bye the messenger arrived with the tooth-case. The Prince again weighed the matter carefully, and he desired the two chief Hakims in the room to consult and give their opinion. I do not know what they said but they looked unutterably wise.

After a considerable amount of discussion, in which I took no part, the Prince suddenly decided that the operation should be performed. He seated himself in the chair: a Page at my request held His Highness’s astrakhan hat: another held the chillimchi or spittoon: and a third a silver cup containing water.

I suggested that His Highness should seize the arms of the chair and hold them tight; then he opened his mouth. An attendant handed me the forceps, which had been warmed: I fitted them round the neck of the offending member and pushed them well home: a twist of the wrist and the tooth was out. His Highness made no remark during the operation, but at the critical moment he patted his feet on the ground. He was, I believe, exceedingly gratified that the operation was successful, for not only did he present me with a suit of clothes, which unfortunately were much too small for me, but he politely said that the operation had not hurt him.

Glancing up as soon as it was over, I saw that the soldiers of the bodyguard had formed themselves in double line from the window down the garden, and were forming an interested row of spectators. Immediately afterwards several of them begged me to perform a similar operation upon them. I glanced at the Prince for permission, which he kindly granted: then, seating the men on the ground one after another, I removed such teeth as they desired. One reservation alone I made: when a tooth had not the slightest appearance of disease—not a speck—I refused to extract it, at any rate that day. The unfortunates who could not have their teeth out seemed quite hurt: why should I draw other men’s teeth and not theirs? I promised, therefore, to do them this favour as soon as they could prove to my satisfaction that their teeth were “worm-eaten.”

One day, a fortnight or so after this, I went with Mr. Pyne, Mr. Collins, and some others of the English, to Paghman to hold a discussion before the Amîr concerning two of the Englishmen who had allowed their disgust of Oriental life to influence their conduct, and being ennuié, had for some time indulged unduly in alcoholic stimulant. His Highness treated the whole matter as a joke. One of the workmen being unnecessary was allowed to resign. The other was to stay. As the latter was exceedingly well acquainted with the manufacture of war material His Highness decided that if he would work two days in the week he might employ the other five as best pleased him. This decision had a beneficial effect upon the man, and he worked well; previously his excesses had had a very serious effect upon his nervous system.

During the conversation that followed the discussion Mr. Collins happened to mention the game of chess. His Highness said he should much like to see the game as played by the English. Mr. Collins at once challenged me. It was years since I had played regularly, and the last game I had had was in Turkestan, when my opponent, after beating me ignominiously, had finally given me a game out of courtesy: I never was any good at chess. I said I would play Mr. Collins if His Highness would give me the benefit of his advice.

The Amîr said certainly he would do so. Accordingly the chessmen were brought. A table was placed in front of His Highness, Mr. Collins sat one side and I the other, and the game began.

I soon found I was no match for Mr. Collins, and I relied almost entirely upon the Amîr. I wish I could remember the details of the game, but I simply made, mechanically, the moves that the Amîr directed. We won the game. Mr. Collins said His Highness played a bold game with his Castles, and that he would take a good second class among the chess players of London.

After that Collins played one of the Courtiers and beat him. This old man was reckoned to be one of the best players next to His Highness, and the Amîr made such unmerciful fun of him for losing, that the old man wanted to go out and hang himself. However, he was not allowed to do so, for His Highness challenged him to a game and beat him. Mr. Pyne and the others not interested in chess had departed. For us who stayed, dinner was served, and we left the Palace at two in the morning.

Meanwhile the Armenian had been for some little while preparing winter quarters for me in the west wing of my house, which faced south and was protected from the winds.

I had told him that there was no need to make these elaborate preparations, as I was going away on leave for the winter. He answered—

“Per-haps! Per-haps not! I make him ready.”

As the Autumn was drawing to a close I began to wonder whether leave would indeed be granted to me for the winter according to His Highness’s words. I wrote, therefore, to enquire. His Highness answered that in view of the fact that the cholera, though doubtless dying out, was still lurking in the town, he should wish me to remain in the country till the following spring.

I was glad of my Winter Quarters.

Work at the Hospitals went on as usual until November, when I was sent for to Paghman to paint the portrait of Prince Mahomed Omer.

Cholera had died out, but small-pox invaded Kabul, and in its train came erysipelas.

In Paghman I was located in a khirgar—the Turkoman wigwam I have described. It was also my studio, the light being obtained by moving a flap of canvas from the top.

Before I commenced the portrait Her Highness the Sultana sent me a present of sweets and cashmere embroidery, and when all my preparations were complete the little Prince, accompanied by his tutor and Page boys, came for the first sitting. He asked me to make a sketch of him on paper before I began the painting. I did so, and handed it to him. It seemed to amuse him highly, for he threw back his head and laughed heartily. Whether the act was a childlike mimicry of his father or not I cannot say, but it reminded me most strongly of the Amîr. After that when he came for a sitting he was always merry and bright, and I managed to get a really expressive likeness of him. He was dressed in a gold-embroidered military tunic, hussar fashion, trousers, high boots, and a fur busby. On the breast was an emerald surrounded by pearls. The belt was profusely adorned with diamonds, as was his watch chain; and on the busby was a large emerald. His sword hilt and scabbard were of gold. He was seated in a tall chair, made especially for him; over the knees, as the weather was cold, was a beautiful fur rug. On one side of the chair stood his “Commander-in-Chief,” Mahomed Omer, son of Perwana Khan, and on the other a Page boy—a slave taken in war, who had a singularly pretty face. This boy, however, had not the intelligent expression of the Prince, nor had his eyes the brilliancy of his master’s. It was simply a pretty, weary, mournful face, and therefore in the picture it did not take from the beauty of the Prince’s face. The “Commander-in-Chief,” though intelligent looking, was plain, so that in looking at the picture the eye was caught immediately by the Prince’s face.

One day the Prince presented me with a slave boy, telling me to choose which of his Pages I preferred. It was rather an embarrassing offer, for one cannot refuse a gift from a member of the Royal Family, nor in fact from any Afghan, without offending the giver. Of what use was a small slave boy to me? True, I could sell him, or give him away, but my principles were not in accordance with that line of action. I therefore told His Highness that I was busy just then with the painting, but that I would consider the matter and let him know in the course of a day or two which boy I preferred. His Highness forgot all about it, as I hoped he would.