At this time I was brought very low in the world as regards tobacco. I had been reduced to smoking in a pipe broken-up cigar stumps which, in view of this difficulty, I had carefully saved. Tobacco, except uncured, and to me unsmokable Persian tobacco, was not to be obtained in Mazar. I said to the Armenian, “I shall be cleaned out of tobacco soon—and then, Chaos!”

He said, “Sir, I not know Chaos, what is; but Amîr Sahib has plenty of cheroot and cig-rette.”

“That is very likely,” I said, “but I haven’t.”

“You not care it, I write him, Amîr Sahib, and he give it you. What a few cigar or cig-rette! no-thing!”

“No! you must not do that,” I said, “I can’t cadge of His Highness.”

“Sir, please you kind, you say nothing. I write, you not write.”

Sure enough he did write. I confess I was rather ashamed when His Highness sent me ten boxes of most delicious Turkish cigarettes, four boxes of cigars, and a silver cigar-case and match-box.

His Highness had forbidden me to go out till I was quite strong, and it was the 4th of January before I ventured to do so. I went to see Samander and found his leg was progressing satisfactorily.

On the 7th, it was a Tuesday, was a military Durbar, and after I had seen Samander and had tea with him, I determined to go on to the Durbar and pay my respects to His Highness: this was at eleven o’clock in the morning. It was the first winter Durbar I had ever been to.

The Armenian accompanied me. He was gorgeous to look upon, being attired in a white turban, a yellow leather postîn, and light blue trousers.

We walked from Samander’s khirgar along the paths of the garden to the Palace. The trees were white with snow, and great icicles hung from the branches. The sky was grey, and the water and mud by the paths frozen hard. Everyone looked nipped up in the icy wind. In the far distance to the south were the mountains dimly blue.

In the open space opposite the Palace was a large crowd of people with petitions to offer or disputes to settle. Near at hand was the Amîr’s guard with fixed bayonets. On each side of a large open window, which reached nearly to the ground, were secretaries and other Court officials. At the window sat His Highness.

The Armenian and I skirted the crowd and went towards the window, the crowd very politely making way for us.

I waited awhile, until His Highness had finished speaking, then when he saw me I took off the Astrakhan busby I had on, went forward and bowed. His Highness enquired very kindly after my health, expressed his pleasure at seeing me, and then directed me to come into the room where he was sitting.

I was very glad to do so, for in spite of my furs the bitter wind began to make me shiver.

I made my way through the door of the Pavilion into the centre hall or passage, turned off to the left, and raising the curtains over the door entered the room where His Highness was. Compared with the outside it was, in spite of the open window, delightfully warm.

His Highness was seated in an arm-chair facing the open window: at his left hand was a little table with a cup of tea on it. He directed a chair to be placed for me and some more tea to be brought. At first the pages placed my chair some little distance from the table, but His Highness ordered them to bring it near. While I was drinking the tea His Highness continued giving judgment in the cases brought before him.

Presently a man, apparently a carpenter, was ushered into the room, bearing in his hand a curiously shaped pair of wooden sandals with spikes of iron fixed into them. His Highness examined them, and then turning to me explained that he had invented these things himself, that they were to fasten on the boots to prevent a slip when one was out shooting among the mountains in the winter.

The Amîr looked very handsome. He was dressed in a postîn of dark purple velvet, trimmed and lined with a valuable fur, called in Persian Pari-pásha, I think a kind of sable. He had gold shoulder knots, and a belt covered with bosses of gold. In his right trouser pocket he had a small nickel-plated revolver, for I saw him take it out when he was searching for a seal to give to one of the secretaries. A fur rug was thrown over his knees, and he wore a beaver busby ornamented with a diamond star.

It was interesting to note the bearing and appearance of the different men as they came before him. Almost everyone, who was not attached to the Court, turned pale, some went white to the lips, or yellow if they were dark skinned. I understood so little Persian then, that I could not follow what was being said, and thus was unable to judge if there were any reason for this emotion, beyond the awe that the presence of majesty inspires.

Presently, with a suddenness that was quite startling, the Amîr turned to me, and said in Persian:—

“Men in autumn and winter are blown upon by cold winds, and at once take hot fever (tâp-i-gurrum). In your eyes, what is the reason of this?”

It seemed pedantry to talk pathology, and I spoke in a sort of parable. I said:—

“A gun is loaded with powder and shot, the trigger is pulled, the cap flashes and the gun explodes. The men of this country are the guns; they are loading themselves with a poison rising from the earth by breathing it constantly, the malarial poison. A slight shock, the chill of the wind, brings about the explosion, and fever seizes them.”

His Highness seemed struck by the plausibility of this explanation, and presently he said,

“Darûst, darûst, it is right!”

He asked me several other questions, but I am sorry I have forgotten what they were.

The room we sat in looked not unlike an English drawing-room. The windows, however, were different. They were wider than English windows generally are: the larger ones were filled with plain glass, the smaller with coloured glass; over the lower part of one large window was a sort of fretwork of wood, which, as the light was reflected from the snow outside, was rather a relief to the eye than otherwise. The door panels and the window jambs were somewhat elaborately carved: they were neither painted nor polished. Draped over the doors and by the side of the windows were silk curtains of different colours. The floor was covered with Persian and Turkestan rugs. The walls were white, and the ceiling decorated rather crudely with colours. The ceiling sloped up on each side to a beam, supported at each end by a slender wooden column carved in distinct imitation of a Corinthian column, but not fluted. Ranged against the wall were two or three arm-chairs covered with velvet, and some small tables with writing materials, vases, and lamps upon them. The table-covers were mostly of velvet embroidered with gold: one or two were Indian. In the middle of one wall was what looked like a white “overmantel,” though there was no fireplace. This was more Oriental in appearance than the rest of the room, the keynote of the decoration being the Saracenic arch. Saracenic arch On the shelves and in the recesses of this were small ornaments and vases of various kinds. Below this decorative arrangement, and in the position usually occupied by the fireplace, was a table covered with heavily embroidered velvet, and on it were two lamps and several brass candlesticks with many branches, each holding a wax candle, so that the whole looked rather like an altar in a High church. In the window that had fretwork over it was arranged a bank of flowers in flower-pots. The centre of the room was clear, except that exactly in the middle was a large brass brazier filled with glowing charcoal.

At the far end of the room, away from the Amîr, were seated, cross-legged on the ground, the chief officers of the army, with the exception of the Commander-in-Chief, who was ill.

At about two o’clock in the afternoon the Durbar was over, the petitioners and disputants disposed of, and His Highness arose. We all stood up.

His Highness did not leave the room, but took another chair in front of a small oblong table with a white table-cloth which the servants had brought in. I did not know whether I was to stop or go, and was debating the point in my mind, when the Armenian, who was standing behind my chair, leant over and whispered:—

“Sir, please you stop, Highness wish it.”

His Highness sat at his table, and a small table with a table-cloth was placed in front of my chair. The officers sat where they were. In front of them was spread a large leather cloth, and over it a white cloth—I was going to say “table-cloth,” but it was on the ground. Then lunch, or breakfast, was brought in. The dishes were protected with curiously shaped covers, which were perforated in designs. One or two were placed upon His Highness’s table, and several more in front of the officers. His Highness helped himself, and then the dish was brought to me. A knife, fork, spoon, and plate were provided for me, though they are not used in the East except by Europeans.

I was glad of the fork and spoon, for in those days I had not learned how to eat pilau with my fingers. I was just in front of His Highness, and the Armenian told me that the servants—who really waited very well, considering—were reprimanded rather sharply by His Highness for not bringing me a clean knife and fork for each dish: they were not used to such things.

First, I had a sort of pancake, tasting something like that ancient sweatmeat called a “jumble;” after that some meat, I didn’t know what it was, cooked in a curious way; then some pilau. Altogether I thought it very tasteful. Afterwards, they took away the white table-cloths and put others in their place, mine was blue velvet embroidered with gold, and fruit was brought, mostly grapes, which had been kept from the summer in cotton wool. His Highness lit a cigarette, and I, pulling out the silver cigar-case, lit a cigar. For the officers, the native chillim or hubble-bubble was brought and handed round to them one after another. Each drew a volume of smoke into his lungs and handed back the pipe to the servant, who, after blowing the smoke out of the tubes, passed it to the next guest.

Then the officers got up, salaamed, and filed off. I did not. I said to myself,

“I am a stranger, and it is the Armenian’s business to direct me: he has not hinted that the time has arrived to withdraw: meanwhile, I am very comfortable. If an error is being committed, on his head be it.”

There was no occasion to disturb myself. Presently, tea was brought in and I had another cigar.

Meanwhile, His Highness was busily engaged: secretaries came in, spoke, received their directions and went. Letters or reports were brought singly and in bundles. His Highness opened them and generally answered each one there and then; writing his answer on the flyleaf of the letter or on the back of it. Then he placed it in a fresh envelope, fastened it down, addressed it and threw it on the ground. These letters were gathered up by one of the secretaries. Other letters, after he had read them, he handed over to a secretary to answer, but these were comparatively few.

In the midst of all this business a youngster, about ten years old, dressed in tunic, trousers, and turban, came into the room; as he entered the silence of the room, he piped out in his young penetrating treble the usual salutation,

“Salaam aleicoum,” “God be with you.”

The Amîr, who was engaged reading a letter, answered mechanically,

“W’aleicoum”—“and with you.”

Then he looked up to see who it was: when he saw the small Page boy he said something in Persian, in which I recognized the word “Khunûk”—“cold.” The boy disappeared and presently came back with a postîn on. I was rather struck that His Highness, in the midst of the great amount of State business he transacts, should notice and give orders about such a small thing as the possibility of a little Page boy taking cold.

When the press of work was over, His Highness turned and addressed some very kind remarks to me. He said, among other things, that he had examined and found that I was more intent upon doing my duty and serving him faithfully than upon anything else. In future, I was not his servant only but his friend.

He appointed a time for me to vaccinate the little Prince Mahomed Omer, and—which concerned my comfort considerably—he, at a suggestion from the Armenian, ordered the Afghan bath-rooms attached to my house to be heated any or every day, whenever I wished. This is rather an extensive operation, and one to which, considering the price of wood, my income hardly stretched. Wherefore, I was duly grateful. I had some more tea, finished my cigar, and then asked permission to withdraw. Before I left, His Highness desired me to visit the Commander-in-Chief, who was ill with fever. I bowed and retired. We came away at half-past four, and the Armenian was jubilant at His Highness’s kindness and condescension. With Oriental exaggeration he said that no man had been so favoured as I.

“Highness very kind upon you: very much wish you,” he said—meaning “like you,” I suppose.

We visited the Commander-in-Chief, drank the necessary tea, and then I got home rather fatigued by the excitement and the exercise out of doors. I took off my furs and lit a pipe for a quiet evening, but had to go out again to see a Page boy who was very ill with fever.

I was on the watch that evening and the next morning to see if I should have any return of fever myself. As there was none, I had my horse saddled, and started, after breakfast, on a visit to the Hospital, where I had not been able to put in an appearance for several weeks.

I enjoyed being out on horseback again. I was riding a young horse that the Amîr had given me. He seemed to enjoy being out also, for presently he began to toss his head and snort and plunge.

The Armenian said, sagaciously,

“Sir, he very fool horse.”

The plunging was not sufficiently satisfying, and he commenced rearing and kicking. Unfortunately the fever, in addition to making my legs shaky, had taken a large slice off the normal amount of pluck that one ordinarily possesses, so that in proportion as his jubilation increased mine diminished.

The road was very lumpy and frozen hard, and it seemed to me that the “fool horse,” in his lunatic caperings, must inevitably slip down and break my leg. There was an evil time to come. We had got through the Bazaar without any serious mishap when, just outside, we happened to come alongside of another man on horseback. This was what my “fool horse” desired; the very thing he was waiting for—he always was a regular bulldog for worrying with his teeth, and was a ruffian at striking: up he reared and simply pounced on the other horse. He caught him by the neck and shook him, and drove him up against a wall. Both reared upright, and then commenced the screams and the strikings of two incensed stallions. The other man was even less happy than I, for my brute was getting the best of it. I wondered which of us would be killed, and began to think it would be the other man.

The Armenian shouted,

“Sir, please you hit him with spur.”

I hadn’t a spur to “hit” with, for, knowing the horse would be “fresh,” I had not put any on. I tore at his mouth with the curb, and hit him over the head with my fist. It seemed to astonish him, for he let go the other horse, and settled on his four feet again. It was all the other man wanted: he was out of sight round the corner before you could say “Parallelopipedon.”

We got outside the town and had a large open space to cross. Some horses in the distance were neighing, and, of course, mine answered them shrilly and fiercely, and he tried to be off at a furious gallop to get another little boxing match. This I was able to put a stop to, fortunately, for the ground was much broken up and very slippery. Having nothing better to do, therefore, he reared and kicked again. We reached the Hospital at last, and, with shaking knees and a thankful heart, I dismounted.

There were a great many sick soldiers at the Hospital, some sixty or seventy. I was not yet strong enough to attend to them all, and I chose out about a dozen who were very ill.

Some of them were mere lads, and there they lay coughing and panting with acute inflammation of the lungs. It was in times like this that I missed so frightfully the well-appointed hospitals and the women nurses of England. The soldier attendants did their best, no doubt, but very few showed any sympathy or gentleness with the sick. In many of the cases it was necessary for the patient to sit up for me to listen to the sounds of the chest. In England the nurse slips her arm under the shoulders and head of the patient and helps him up. Here a curt “sit up” was all. One or two could not do it, and I had to lift them.

Coming away I decided that the Armenian should ride the “fool horse” and I would take his. He said:—

“Oh, yes, sir, I can ride him, but I ’fraid we make late for your lunch. Better this—you take mine, I take soldier’s horse. Other horse come afterwards. In my o-pinion we get home soon this way.”

“Very well,” I said, “I can’t ride him home; it is too much.”

“Yes, sir,” he answered, “it is three much! a little you not strong, and he very fool horse.”

It was a long time before I could make him believe it was “too much, and not two much.”

CHAPTER XV.
The Amîr’s Conversation.

That evening, about seven o’clock, a messenger came from the Palace saying that the Armenian was wanted at once by Amîr Sahib. I was a little startled, wondering if anything had gone wrong. About half-an-hour afterwards the Armenian, accompanied by a soldier with a lantern, returned, and said that His Highness wished to see me.

Outside it was dark and freezing, and His Highness had been kind enough to send by the hand of the Armenian a postîn for me, lest I should take a chill again and have a return of fever. For, as the Armenian put it, “Highness say Afghan is stone man, heat is not hurt it, cold is not hurt it; but European very soft man, likes flower, soon cold is take it.”

The postîn, of crimson velvet lined with a valuable fur called in Persian, “khuz”—I think a species of marten—was made to fit the noble proportions of the Amîr. On my lean figure it showed to better advantage wrapped round as a cloak.

Guided by the soldier with his lantern, we reached the Palace and waited a minute or two in the anteroom: presently a Page boy came out and called me in. I wondered what could be the matter. But it occurred to me that it could not be anything disagreeable or His Highness would not have sent me his own postîn.

I was shown into His Highness’s bedroom—at least, so I conjectured, though it bore no resemblance to our ideas of a bedroom. It was a smaller room than the one I had been in at the Tuesday’s Durbar, and on the other side of the centre hall or passage.

At one end of the room was His Highness, seated on a divan or broad couch which was covered with furs. In front of him was what looked like a large ottoman covered with a quilt which was partly concealed by a cover of Indian embroidery. This was a “sandali,” and underneath was the charcoal brazier. On the divan were piled cushions and large pillows covered with velvet and silk brocades.

His Highness wore a small white turban of Indian muslin: over his shoulders was thrown a robe of crimson silk lined with fur and almost covered with gold embroidery. The room was brilliant with innumerable wax candles. Two brass candlesticks with branches stood on the sandali, and many more were placed round the room. It was a very striking scene. Several Page boys were standing at the far end of the room—there was no talking or whispering—and, at a sign or word from His Highness, one of them moved silently to do as he was told. Seated on the ground at the side of the room, about midway between His Highness and the Page boys, were three of the Court: one was the Sirdar Usuf Khan, the Amîr’s uncle; another was the Master of the Horse, Sirdar Abdullah Khan; and the third, my old friend, General Nasir Khan.

I bowed to His Highness and he ordered a chair to be placed for me: then tea was brought.

His Highness said that he hoped I should suffer no inconvenience from the night air, and that he had asked me to visit him as he was suffering from a severe chill. He had studied many Persian books on medicine, he told me, and was intending to take certain medicines. He took the trouble to show me the medicines and explain their action. I asked permission to make an examination of his temperature and condition, and found he had four degrees of fever (102·4 F.). Granting that the medicines acted as he supposed, he was adopting a rational line of treatment, and I told him so, explaining, at the same time, that I had not studied the action of the remedies he spoke of. He talked to me for some time and told me, amongst other things, that he had studied medicine while he was an exile in Russia. He said that he never learnt Russian, but that he could talk Persian, Arabic, Pushtu, and Turki.

By-and-by sweetmeats and fruit were brought in, pomegranates and pears, oranges, grapes, and dried fruit. His Highness offered me a cigarette, or rather directed one of the Pages to do so, and I smoked while he spoke to me. At about nine o’clock His Highness indicated that he felt inclined to sleep, and I was permitted to retire.

The next morning at eleven o’clock I was sent for again. It was snowing fast and I had to put a plain cloak over my finery, leaving it, of course, in the anteroom when I reached the Palace. I found His Highness very little better; he was feverish and still had pain in the shoulders and back. He said he had had a very restless night, with much fever. The attendants said he had been delirious, but I doubt if they knew what they were talking about.

After talking to His Highness for a short time we all retired to the Durbar room and His Highness got a little sleep. For us the inevitable tea was brought, and I smoked cigars and talked to the Armenian. There were several small Page boys in the Durbar room; they were seated cross-legged on the ground round the charcoal brazier and were receiving lessons in reading and writing. One or two were handsome boyish boys, and another was very pretty, but in face more like a little Italian girl than a boy.

At half-past one breakfast—in my case lunch—was brought in. It was practically a repetition of Tuesday’s, except that His Highness was not there. After lunch I smoked on till I had finished all the cigars I had in my pocket, and then one of the Chamberlain’s, my friend, Shere Ali Khan, brought me some cigarettes. We had tea again, two sweet cups, and half a cup without sugar.

At four o’clock in the afternoon I was called in to His Highness. He still had some fever, but felt better. There were several people in the room. Beside the Pages there were the two chief Hakims, Abdul Wahid and Abdur Rashid, and other people, some of whom I knew and some I did not. All were seated on the ground round the room, and everyone was very still.

His Highness addressed his conversation to me. He told me much about the customs of the Russians that he became acquainted with when he was in exile; and he asked me many questions about London. He seemed to know a good deal about it himself. He described, for the benefit of the listeners, an English custom in which gentlemen—Khans—of wealth, band themselves together for the purpose of trade, and that each band is called “a Comp’ny.” He asked much about the water supply of London, enquiring whether it were a Government undertaking, or managed by a Comp’ny of Khans, and he dropped a remark or two that showed me he had taken the trouble to secure previous information on the subject.

The conversation drifted to many subjects, and I remember he proved—though I do not say entirely to my satisfaction—how much better it was to have five wives than one. So that, although I was at the Palace purely in a professional capacity, I found myself being entertained by the Royal patient in most interesting conversation. At last he said I must be tired, having spent the whole day at the Palace. I need scarcely say that the enjoyment of listening to His Highness, and adding what I could to his stock of information, quite made up for any ennui I may have felt while smoking innumerable cigars and cigarettes in the Durbar room.

We got home about six in the evening. I had then to go and see my neighbour, the Mirza Abdur Rashid, who had sent to my house several times. He had fever again. I did not call on the Commander-in-Chief a second time while he was ill, as I found he preferred trusting himself to the skill of the hereditary physicians of his country, the Hakims.

The next morning I went to the Palace again. His Highness said he was better: certainly he had no fever, but he looked uncommonly ill. He told me that, feeling very feverish and oppressed in the evening after I had left, he ordered a vein in his arm to be opened and a quantity of blood to be withdrawn. He expressed himself as feeling considerably relieved by the operation.

In the afternoon, at half-past four, when I went again to see him, His Highness seemed to have recovered somewhat from the blood-letting, and was in very good spirits. He related many interesting details of his life when he was in exile in Samarcànd and Tashkend. He told me that, after having read up the ancient Greek system of medicine as set forth in the Persian books at his command, he practised as a Physician among the natives of Russian Turkestan: that in his spare time he worked at the forge to learn the manufacture of war materials: that he learnt the details of gunpowder manufacture, and even worked at the more delicate and artistic handicraft of the goldsmith. He said that he tried to learn drawing, knowing that the art can be applied to so many uses, but that he never was able to succeed. He praised my capabilities in that line in the complimentary language of an Oriental, and asked me to show those in the room how one began a drawing.

I asked what should I draw? He left that entirely to me. A paper and pencil being brought, I made a sketch of a man’s head, and handed it to His Highness. He looked at it critically, and said that the only improvement he could suggest was that the eyebrows should be a little heavier. After I had corrected this he approved entirely, and a Page boy took the sketch round to every one in the room.

“Wah, wah!” they said, in admiration.

The King had approved; the Courtiers admired.

His Highness then said that the only thing he could ever draw was a tree in the winter-time. I asked him if he would honour us by showing us how a tree should be drawn. He took the paper and pencil and drew two trees excellently. I intended to have asked His Highness to give me the sketch, for it was really drawn for my benefit, but one of the Courtiers was too clever for me, and he annexed it. I did not like to ask then, for I knew the man would get into trouble if I did.

His Highness desired me to commence a portrait of himself as soon as he was well enough to sit. I said it would give me very great pleasure to do so. There was a discussion then, in which the Courtiers joined, as to the size the painting should be. Some suggested that it should be an equestrian portrait, life size; others that it should be of the King sitting: and many different costumes were suggested, all more or less gorgeous. I said that I had only enough canvas for a “head portrait.” His Highness said that if I would make out a list of anything I wanted in the way of canvas, brushes, and paints, he would order them to be brought from Bombay at once. I finally suggested that a head portrait should be finished first, and if His Highness approved of it, a “full length” could be done afterwards. His Highness had never sat for a painting, and I think that he scarcely realized what an undertaking it is to sit for a full length life-sized portrait. As regards costume, His Highness said he preferred a plain coat and a fur busby. Embroidery and bright colours, he said, were more fit for women and boys than men.

Afterwards he told us many interesting stories about the Shah of Persia and other people. The Shah he did not take at all seriously, and, in particular, he laughed at the custom there is in Persia of putting a portrait of the Shah on almost everything; even on utensils that are used for ignominous purposes. He described the Persians as not at all cleanly persons.

It is to be noted that the Amîr will allow no representation of himself on vessels, stamps, or coins, and when I learnt this, I confess I was surprised that he wished his portrait painted. However, when the portrait was eventually finished, it was apparently looked upon as an effigy or representation of Royalty, and, as you shall hear presently, was treated with some ceremony and no little respect. While he was speaking about the Shah, he happened to take up an Indian rupee, and was spinning it about on the sandali in front of him. Suddenly he said, as he picked it up—

“How old was Queen Victoria when this portrait was taken?”

I hesitated a moment: it was a difficult question to answer. Finally I said,

“It is intended to represent the Queen, but it is not a portrait of Her Majesty as she is now, nor, I believe, as she was when she was young.”

His Highness at once said,

“You are right; every feature is incorrect—eyes, nose, and mouth; and even the crown on her head is not the crown she wears.”

It was impossible for me to explain, through the Armenian, that the impression on the coin was a heraldic decoration, and was not meant for an exact portrait of Her Majesty.

Meanwhile, fruit and sweets were brought, and I lit a cigar. When I had smoked to the stump, I stuck my pocket-knife in to hold it by.

His Highness said, “Have you no cigar-holder?”

On hearing I had not, he gave some directions to a Page boy. The boy disappeared, returning presently with about a dozen cases. His Highness opened the cases, examined them, and then, choosing two, gave them to me.

They were meerschaum and amber cigar-holders, the case being stamped with the name of a firm in Bombay. One was in the shape of a hand holding an oval, and the other was straight with a prancing horse carved on the top of it. They looked so beautifully pure in colour that it seemed a pity to defile them with tobacco smoke. However, aesthetic ideas did not prevail, and before long I had coloured them both a rich brown.

By-and-bye I began to think it must surely be getting somewhere near dinner time, when just then the clock struck—it was ten p.m. However, it was not yet the hour for the Amîr’s second meal, and he continued conversing. He told me of the habits and customs of the Afghan hillmen; of their agility and hardiness, their great stature and bodily strength: that with them meat was a luxury to be obtained only by the few and by them rarely; of the weapons they manufactured for themselves, their love of fighting, and their love of robbery. I said,

“They must be good stuff to make soldiers of.”

“Yes,” said His Highness, “but they needed taming.”

A little before midnight dinner was brought. The Amîr has two meals in the day: one about midday and the other about midnight. Occasionally the time is varied. He may breakfast at ten a.m. and dine at nine or ten p.m. He takes a cup of tea on rising, and, as a rule, some biscuits—macaroons and other sweet cakes—are brought, though he seldom eats them. At breakfast and dinner he eats as heartily as one would expect a robust man to do, but not more so. The pièce de résistance being pilau, which consists largely of rice, I think that the Amîr does not eat so much meat in the day as an ordinary Englishman. He drinks water only, at meals. Tea he drinks in the early morning and in the afternoon, and, curiously enough, tea is usually brought half-an-hour before and sometimes half-an-hour after a meal. There is no set rule as regards tea drinking. It is taken at all hours of the day, except with meals.

When dinner was brought, a tray was placed before His Highness on the sandali. A small table was brought for me, and the Courtiers sat on the ground.

The Armenian, who had had a little fever the day before, had been standing behind my chair all this time—rather more than seven hours—and translating. He looked fagged to death. His Highness happening to notice him standing while everyone was sitting, said, “Sit and eat.”

The Armenian, however, did not dare to take the Amîr at his word and excite the resentment of the Courtiers, the Chief Secretaries, and Officers, by joining them, and, moreover, he felt shame at presuming to sit eating in the presence of the Amîr, so that he made some excuse. His Highness, seeing his embarrassment, ordered dinner to be served for him in another room.

When dinner was over I asked permission to retire, and His Highness gave orders for a guard with lanterns to conduct me to my door. We got home at half-past one.

The next day, Sunday, I spent in a similar way at the Palace. I found His Highness better. After being with him a short time I withdrew to the Durbar room, where lunch was served for me.

I was called in again in the afternoon and His Highness continued his conversation. He spoke much about European customs, and surprised me by the extent and accuracy of his knowledge. The Courtiers sat listening, dumb with admiration at the “boundless knowledge of the great King.” He told me of the city of his dreams, the new Kabul, that he hoped to build in the Charhardeh Valley, drawing a plan of the city and of its fortifications. I enquired whether there were materials for building near at hand; and asked where he would get his water supply from, and so on, and he entered into all the details most willingly.

He gave me further information about the Afghans as a nation: though he described more their obvious characteristics than those that are unknown to European investigators. He sent for samples of native drugs and plants, and instructed me in their alleged action on the human body.

At dinner, soup was brought for my especial benefit, for the Amîr knew that Europeans took soup before meat when they dined. The conversation then turned upon the making of soup, and His Highness sent for the cooking utensils that were used by his cook and described the process to me. I did not know how soup was made, but I knew how to extract the nourishing properties of meat, and I described the making of “beef tea,” giving the reasons for each step in the process.

After dinner—I forget what led up to it—I asked for a piece of paper and a pair of scissors, and having cut a square the size of the palm of my hand, I said to His Highness that I could cut a hole in it big enough to put my head through: would he ask his Courtiers if they could do the same. One after another they took the paper, and the Amîr seemed much amused as they turned it every way, and finally declared the thing was impossible. It was given back to me and I made the usual cuts. One down the middle and others alternately from the middle cut and from the outer edge—this fashion. Of course, it would go over my head then. The Amîr enjoyed immensely the astonishment and discomfiture of the Courtiers, and laughed heartily as he mocked and jeered at them.

All this time the little Page boys had to be standing, and they looked dreadfully tired. One of them, the Amîr’s favourite, had fever. He was a slave from Kaffristan, about fourteen, named Malek. He was fair-skinned and quite like an English boy in face, though he wore two large emeralds looped in each ear by a ring of gold.

There was a hard frost that night, and we did not get home till half-past two.

The next morning, when I arrived at the Palace, I found His Highness was asleep, so I betook myself to Samander’s khirgar or wigwam. It was as well I went, for I found he had fever. I took the opportunity also of prescribing for the favourite Page, Malek. He was a nice lad, and I had a chat with him. He seemed to be quite proud that he was not a Mahomedan in religion, though he couldn’t quite tell me what he was. He remembered only a few words of his native language.

Afterwards he became a very good friend to me. He had infinite tact, and if I wished to call the attention of His Highness to any matter without making a formal report, Malek was always ready to choose the fitting moment in which to speak to His Highness.

I did not see the Amîr that day, for he was engaged, busily and alone, answering European correspondence. I heard, however, that he was much better.

On the following day, Tuesday, His Highness held the usual military Durbar. He sat at the window of the Palace enveloped in furs. When I arrived, he desired me to examine the throat of a woman who was there, unveiled, among the petitioners, and diagnose the disease she was suffering from. When I had given my report, His Highness invited me into the Palace and I lunched with him as before. He asked me why I had ceased, since my recovery from fever, from sending to his kitchen for lunch and dinner. He desired me to continue sending, so long as I remained in the country.

After that the Amîr’s cook waited upon me daily at my house to receive orders.

A day or two after this, on Sunday, January 19th, I was called before daybreak to vaccinate the little Prince, Mahomed Omer. The very fat man, Hakim Abdur Rashid, came for me while I was dressing; the servants prepared tea and then we started. The Prince was not living in the harem with his mother, the Sultana: he had a house of his own not very far from mine.

The Hakim waddled by my side, talking and talking, and panting, and still talking in his unctuous voice, and I stalked on in the darkness. Dawn was so near that we brought no lanterns, and before we reached the house the light of morning was gleaming on the snow. At the high gate, leading to the gardens, was a sentry with fixed bayonet.

Just as we reached the gate an old “sakabi,” or water-carrier, was passed in by the sentry. Before he was allowed to cross the gardens with his leather water-bag to fill the house deghchis, or water-pots, the sentry made him unloose his turban and droop the end of it over his eyes so that he could see on the ground only.

“Women about?” I said to the Armenian.

“Yes, sir. Highness’ sister here and other lady.”

“Shall we see them?” I asked.

“Sir. Please you not talk. Perhaps this fat man understand. Highness make angry if he hear.”

Our eyes were not bandaged, though the Armenian and I were a good deal younger than the “sakabi.” The fat Hakim did not count. We crossed the garden and went up some steps into a lobby and the Hakim called out:—

“Kussi ast?” “Anyone here?”

A door on our right opened and the old Hakim, Abdul Wahid, appeared, and raising a curtain ushered us into the room.

The usual charcoal brazier stood in the middle of the carpet, curtains hung by the windows and over the doors.

The curtain over a doorway, at the far side of the room, was slightly pulled back, and, though we could see no one, it was here I heard that the ladies were concealed.

Seated by the side of the brazier was a fair young woman with a baby on her knee. These were the little Prince and his nurse. There were two older women, also nurses, seated by the fire. None of the women were veiled, but each had a cashmere shawl over her head, which she pulled slightly across the lower part of the face. All rose as we entered.