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.”