Abdur Rahman Expected at Cabul.

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CHAPTER XXVIII.

"The Divine Figure from the North"-Sherpur during May-Turkish Fugitives from Russian Territory-Cabul in Prosperity-The People enriched at the Expense of the British Government-The Coining of Cabuli Rupees-The Effect upon the People-Street Sketches-Life in the Bazaars-The Hindu and Kizilbash Quarters -Rapacity of the Traders-The Abundance of Fruit-Ice-cream Stalls-An Instance of Fanaticism-History of the Kizilbashes - Their Turki DescentElphinstone's Estimate of their Character-Their Strength in Cabul estimated at 6,000 Fighting Men-Their Treatment by the Amirs.

16th May, 1880.

THERE is such a holy calm in Sherpur that we begin to question whether all the excitement of the last six months has not been a nightmare. No bustle or excitement, no sudden alarms, no gathering of armed men to pour out upon Asmai, Siah Sung, or Charasia; our cavalry rest quietly in their lines without any expectation of " bootand-saddle" sounding; and every sentry in the cantonment whiles away his time, not in wondering whether the enemy are near, but in sweet speculation as to when orders will be issued for the march to India. The majority of us believe that, as regards severe fighting, we have satisfied the Afghans, although a last flash in the pan may occur before the final settlement; and there being no amusement in calculating the chances of the next action, we fall back upon discussion of possible arrangements with the various claimants to the Amirship. Abdur Rahman's name is in every man's mouth, and the news of his departure from Kunduz for Cabul is awaited with almost as much anxiety as the result of the Derby. The Sirdar is our "divine figure from the north," at least just now. But we have to live as comfortably as we can in the meantime; and though our life in cantonments is necessarily a colourless one, it has more points than a hot-house existence in India. First, in the order of comparison, we have an almost perfect climate; next, we have some little amusements; and lastly, by reason of our separation from civilization, we have a less artificial and less blameful life than is possible in the irritating and bilious furnace "down below." It does not say much for civiliza

tion that this should be so; but we have fewer temptations, and, consequently, fewer faults to atone for. The "grass-widowers" of Cabul, I undertake to say with most serious earnestness, are on a far higher level of moral purity than that easy-living, freely-flirting, and most charming section of Indian society, which migrates yearly to the hills when punkahs are in full swing. We talk less scandal; we are less covetous of other persons' property, animate or inanimate; we do not turn night into day to the music of the trois temps or "Pinafore ;" and we do our duty quietly, albeit with a little wholesome grumbling. But as news drifts up from the Khyber line, and we learn how the poor fellows between Gundamak and Lundi Kotal are grilling in their single-fly tents with manifold troubles on every hand, we grow placidly thankful that we are in Cabul, with good thick walls about us, and a foot of mud between us and the sun. Not everyone could be in hill stations if all the troops were back in India; and we are less discontented now at our lot—a wifeless, loverless one though it be-than we were three months ago. Cabul "grass-widowers" will no doubt be in great demand when once more they are transplanted into Simla, Mussoorie, or Naini Tal society, for a war-beaten warrior is far more esteemed than a carpet knight. Fair ears will tingle with pleasure when whispered explanations are given of the days spent in unwonted innocence in Afghanistan

"Days when we laughed for joy of summer heat,

Nor laughed less loud when snow made white the ground."

nearer to the others, and we Will it not be counted in

We have pined for "loot, love, and liberty:" the first we may never get; but every day brings us well know what our reward will be. our favour that no band will play "The girl I left behind me when once more our faces are turned eastwards? It surely should be, or our grass-widowhood will have been precious time uselessly squandered. But, frivolity apart, we take our change at Time's counter with composure, and are not too anxious concerning our immediate fate. There are the current duties of a large camp to be gone through daily: they can never be shirked, but must always be done systematically and thoroughly. Regiments have their guards to mount day and night, spring drill and parades to

Travellers from Afar.

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attend, recruits to be shaped into good soldiers, embryo signallers to be trained, transport to be kept in good order. Colonel Low has worked a wonderful change in our transport, and we shall soon be able to "march anywhere and do anything." General Roberts is away with a division of 5,000 men visiting Logar, Wardak and Maidan; his troops are in excellent health and are enjoying the trip amazingly.

We have visitors occasionally, other than officers who have taken a short leave from a station down the line to pay a visit to Cabul. A few days ago three Turkish soldiers applied at the Bala Hissar for food and assistance on their journey to India. They were sent to Major Hastings, Political Officer, and told a story full of adventure. They were an old man, his son, and a wild-looking Turk of the Bashi-Bazouk order. The youngest of the party was very intelligent, and a handsome specimen of the Turkish peasantry, while his father was still unbroken in strength in spite of his misfortunes. The "Bashi-Bazouk," as we imagined him to be, though he denied the impeachment, was the embodiment of rude strength: he still wore the long blue coat he had donned when called upon to fight the Russians, and across the breast were a dozen little pockets, each large enough to hold a cartridge, and showing signs of great wear. A Turcoman fur cap, with the tanned skin outside and a fringe of fur showing all round, covered his long, matted hair, and added to the wildness of his appearance. All the men were travel-stained, and looked forlorn enough; but their satisfaction at being among the "Inglis was without bounds, and they were as cheerful and contented as if the 10,000 miles between Cabul and Istamboul were only a league. Their story was that they were natives of the village of Soghral, ten days' march from Kars, and that when the Russian war broke out they joined Haji Ali's regiment, their captain being Haji Shuman. The latter was killed in action, and the Russians took the whole of the Soghral villagers prisoners. Men, women, and children, were marched for eleven days until the railway was reached in the district of the Caucasus, when the whole party were transferred to the rail. After four days' travelling they gained Moscow, whence their families were sent to St. Petersburg, while the men were sent eastwards to Dobiska. Here they were kept

prisoners for two years, being lightly ironed, but having no work to do. They received about two and a half annas in Russian money daily, with which they bought food, and upon which they managed to live. At the end of two years their irons were removed, and they were told to settle down about Dobiska and cultivate the land. At the earliest opportunity a number of them absconded, of whom these three men kept together. For fifteen days they travelled secretly, doing long distances at night, until they reached Kazakia, on the outer border of Bokhara. Here they were safe, as their fellow-Mussulmans willingly gave them food; but they did not dare to go before the Amir of Bokhara, as they believed he was on friendly terms with the Russians. They stayed during the winter at Guzar, as they were told the Passes towards Cabul were closed; but in the spring they left Bokhara and made for Mazar-i-Sharif. Here they found Ishak Khan as Governor the place was quiet enough, and but few troops were holding it. Thence they marched to Bamian, their poverty no doubt saving them from molestation, and at last they reached Cabul. Their desire was to be sent to Bombay, whence their Consul could forward them to Constantinople. Major Hastings gave them Rs. 50 to get a new outfit in the city, and make themselves clean and comfortable. On Monday they were presented to Sir Donald Stewart, and were afterwards feted and photographed: the native officers of the Guides giving them a great dinner, while Mr. Burke immortalized them with his camera. The poor wretches were immensely pleased, and will no doubt carry back to Turkey good impressions of our kindness to them in distant Cabul.

It has chanced that since December last I have visited the city of Cabul but twice: once when the snow was still lying on the ground, and our engineers were busy raising new fortifications on the Sherderwaza Heights. On this occasion I merely passed from the Bala Hissar along the skirts of the lowest quarters of the city, as the Heights had to be scaled; so that, in wandering through the bazaars a few days ago, the impres sion uppermost in my mind was the state of Cabul immediately after Mahomed Jan's flight. Then the city was gloomy and terrorstricken it had gone hand and heart with the ghazi-log during the triumphant days of the siege of Sherpur, and it dreaded the

retribution which hung over it. The alien Kizilbashes and Hindus were joyful enough at the re-establishment of order; but their wrecked shops and pillaged houses were sad relics of the fanatical storm which had passed over Cabul. No man of the Mussulman population could foretell what the punishment of the city would be, and the half-deserted bazaars and the still by-streets were eloquent of the fear which cowed the unruly populace. But instead of bloody reprisals and harsh repression, it seemed good in the eyes of our leaders that gentleness and free forgiveness should be the means used to win over the city; and now Cabul is more prosperous and peaceful than it has been for many generations. The rumours of new wars and insidious intrigues, of Abdur Rahman's approach from the north, and the gathering of the tribes at Ghazni, pass over the heads of the people like a fitful wind over a lake, stirring the placid surface, but leaving no lasting impression. There have been, since the beginning of the year, long, long days in which the traders and holders of contracts from the British saw their coffers filling with the rupees which are now looked upon in India as having "mysteriously disappeared" from the Punjab treasuries; longer weeks wherein everyone, from Sirdar Wali Mahomed to the commonest Hazara coolie, found how good a paymaster the Sircar is when his necessity is urgent; and still longer months during which lakhs of Indian rupees were melted down in the city mint to be reissued in the form of Cabul rupees and spread broadcast over the land. Cabul has prospered, and waxed proud; its merchants have never been so rich; the common people have never seen such a steady flow of money through the bazaars. Even the Hindus, who know something of our wealth, are astonished: they cannot appreciate the self-denial and honesty of purpose which guide us in our transactions with a conquered "Your money is without limit," a Hindu banker said to me; "but why do you give it all to this faithless people (be-iman log)? They are your enemies, they hate and revile you; why not take what you want ?" Any other nation making war would probably requisition the country and forcibly seize supplies; but with the philanthropy which guides our actions, we pay ten times the normal value of the things needed for our army, and plume ourselves proudly as men walking upright before the Lord. To

race.