CHAPTER IX.
Camp Life at Cabul—Afghan Costermongers—Curiosity of Villagers—The Hazaras—Surrender of Firearms—City Traders—The Purchase of Transport Animals—Peaceful State of the Country—The Abdication of the Amir—His Reasons for the Step—Assumption of the Government by the British—General Roberts’s Proclamation—Arrest of the Amir—Progress of the Inquiry into the Massacre—The Murder of Abdul Karim—Military Executions-Seizure of Treasure.
Camp Siah Sung, 25th October.
Our lines are cast in pleasant places just at present; for, apart from the political puzzle which some of us study, and which I have already tried to explain, there is nothing to disturb our equanimity. We have a high and dry encamping ground, from which we can travel down at our leisure, either citywards, to explore the mysteries of Cabul and ponder over the Bala Hissar, now rapidly being cleared out; or else down into the Cabul plain, to exercise our horses on the racecourse, or over the water-channels which everywhere intersect the fields. The view on every side is an impressive one, for the mountains which keep watch and ward over Cabul are very picturesque, rising abruptly from the fields below, and seeming to shut us out securely from the petty world beyond. News of that outer world has been very scant of late, and it is with ill-concealed impatience that many of us turn eastward to where the Khurd Cabul and Jugdulluck Hills hide the long valley up which the Khyber column is crawling with tortoise-slowness. There comes no heliographic flash down to cheer us, and one might as well consult the impassible Hindu Kush itself. But there is a pleasanter outlook westwards. Through the gorge in rear of the city we catch a glimpse of the Chardeh Valley, a very Eden of fertility, and in the far background is the high range of mountains forming the sky-line towards distant Turkistan, over which we have gorgeous sunsets that more than atone for the chilliness which creeps over Siah Sung Ridge as the day closes. We have the sharp air of the early morning to brace us for routine work that must be gone through, and such genial warmth all day as to make the shade of our tight little tents seem almost superfluous. Whatever of cold and discomfort there may be in store for us, we are comfortable enough now, though perhaps the air bites shrewdly at mid-night to the sentry at his post. His outlook is chiefly for thieves who may think there is loot to be got in our camp; but we seem to have frightened the people into honesty, for robberies are unknown. Our camp is thronged with petty traders, and in convenient spots are little bazaars for our soldiers and camp-followers, to whom they are a rare boon. Fruit in abundance is exposed most temptingly: grapes, apples, pears, and pomegranates being sold so cheaply that a few pice will buy sufficient to satisfy even a soldier’s appetite; while melons of a flavour and succulency almost unknown to us poor dwellers in Hindustan are piled together in profusion. The usual curry-stuffs and native delicacies are ranged alongside these edibles; and occasionally some delicious beetroot or a gigantic cabbage nestling in a heap of bright-skinned onions tempts a khansamah doing his day’s marketing to halt and haggle in a lordly manner until a fair bargain is struck. The Afghan “coster” is not an easy personage to deal with, for he has learnt the value of our rupees, and is determined to make the most of the present opportunity. In our canvas streets there is all day long a busy stream of men and boys eagerly selling wares from the city and surrounding villages, and if so inclined we could spend hours in making casual purchases. In the early morning villagers with their simple produce of fowls, ducks, pigeons, eggs, jars of milk and clotted cream—the latter particularly good—come sauntering in and pass away their time in intently gazing at our strange freaks in the way of early “tubs” or substantial breakfasts. Their livestock slung across their shoulders, or carelessly carried head downwards, appears quite a secondary consideration, until they are pounced upon by some bon-vivant, who thinks life is not worth living if it is merely to be sustained by commissariat rations—now, alas! minus their redeeming feature of wholesome rum. Once the villager sees a bargain may be made, he wakes up suddenly to the fact of having something to sell, and in the patois of the country explains the number of rupees or annas he requires. That he does not get them need scarcely be said, as his first prices are exorbitant; but after some pantomimic action, or by calling in the aid of some Pathan sepoy near at hand, terms are arranged, and with the silver bits stowed away mysteriously in his waistcloth the innocent native wends his way to another part of the camp, there to dispose of more of his stock. When he has got rid of his little store he does not, as a conscientious husbandman should, go quietly home, but hangs about our tents with a face full of inquiry and amazement. He pushes his curiosity at times almost to impertinence, perhaps with the philanthropic idea of giving us a few wrinkles as to the proper mode of living in this part of the world; but at the first sharp word he “moves on” a few paces, and turns his attention to some other feature of our local life. That he is poor and strictly dishonest there can be no reasonable doubt; but his poverty will pass away if we stay long at Cabul, and his dishonesty will be covered with the cloak of simplicity as long as military law prevails. This class of peasant who comes into our midst is not of the usual bloodthirsty Afghan type; and he comes too, without arms, for our proclamation against carrying weapons is now widely known, and whatever he may be on his native heath, when his tribe is on the war-path, he looks inoffensive enough now.
Among our other visitors are the Hazaras: the hewers of wood and drawers of water, as they have been called, of all Afghanistan. Their Mongol type of face, beardless and with the true slanting eyes of their race, is noticeable at once among the Jewish-looking Afghans whom they serve so well. Sunburnt, and with many coats of dirt upon them, they look the real labourers of the land; and as their stalwart backs are generally bent under heavy loads of firewood or huge sacks of forage, it can be seen they are no drones. They are always very intent upon their work, never loitering or wonder-struck; and in this respect they resemble the Ghoorkas. They are good-humoured and happy enough, and any stray salutation cast to them is always answered by a smile and a nod of their felt-crowned heads, as if kindness were too rare not to be acknowledged. Sometimes their burdens are very different from those just mentioned, for they come staggering in with a score of matchlocks or Enfield rifles on their backs which their village maliks have sent in to be bought up and destroyed by the Sirkar. This bringing in of arms has been quite a feature of camp life, it being by no means unusual to meet a file of these men, each laden with the guns that are to be given up. They are thrown down, and counted by soldiers told off for the duty, and the idlers from the city gather round to stare at our contemptuous examination of the weapons. As most of the guns are loaded and even doubled-loaded, it is somewhat risky to meddle with them; but curiosity prompts us to look down muzzles and cock triggers in a most reckless way. The Sniders are safe enough to handle, as the breech can be opened and any cartridge withdrawn; but with the others it is different. Tower-marked Enfields rest side by side with the old two-grooved Brunswick rifle; while Cabul-made smooth-bores and imitation Enfields are mixed with jhezails and the “Brown Besses” the Indian Government gave away so lavishly in the days of their foolishness. We are destroying these arms—locks, stock, and barrel—except in the case of such Sniders as seem really serviceable. The Afghan Snider is by no means a badly-made weapon, and the cartridges from the Bala Hissar Arsenal are equally good. The latter are of a kind known as solid-drawn, with strong bases, and if recapped can be used several times with perfect safety. Where machinery and skilled mechanics are scarce, this is, of course, a great consideration. We do not find many cartridges delivered up, and it seems a pity that a small price was not fixed upon powder and lead so as to make disarmament more complete. There are thousands of good rifles still scattered over the country, in the hands of the Amir’s soldiers; and, in the future, ammunition will be greatly in request, now that the Bala Hissar has fallen into our hands. A few swords, bayonets, and knives, have come in, but they are of no account. We have received over 3,000 rifles and guns of the different kinds mentioned, and more will, perhaps, be given up.
Far removed from the villagers and the Hazaras are the more pretentious city traders, who bring poshteens, furs, native cloth, chinaware, old coins, Bokhara silks, Persian carpets, jewellery, and precious stones for sale. They are mostly Kizilbashes and Cabul-born Hindus, many of whom have travelled far and have seen most of the cities of Central and Western Asia. As traders they are as keen as Jew pedlars: as visitors they make themselves as much at home as our intimate friends. To bargain with them is an exercise in chicanery that would quicken the wits of a Shylock: to listen to their soft flattery as they extol the benefits of British rule is to believe that we are the finest race in the world. The chicanery is glossed over and hidden by the soothing praises of our benevolence, and the crimson-turbaned Kizilbash or caste-marked Hindu, who has sat himself on our stool or squatted in our tent is enriched accordingly. We buy furs that would cost us less in Peshawur, and silks that, perhaps, have never seen a Bokhara loom, and think we have done well in our bargaining; whereas, most likely, the worthy traders have netted excessive profits. It is the old story of our rupees filling the coffers of the people we have come among as conquerors, and of our pride forbidding us to acknowledge it. And yet we enjoy the chaffering with these rascals, and find an amusement in making them turn out their pockets. From one will be produced a rare fox-skin, from another a Russian tea-cup and saucer (made in England, but stamped with the Moscow dealer’s name); from a third a little packet of diamonds or turquoises—the latter often of a beautiful colour, but marred by flaws. Then the rings on the man’s finger are taken off and examined, the owner fixing a price that is almost prohibitive on each stone; or a curiously-worked belt and pouch is unbuckled at our insistance, and appraised in the usual way. And so on to the end of the chapter. But Kizilbash or Hindu is more than a match for the Western Kafir; and one is tempted to believe that the Caucasian is really “played out” as far as astuteness in trading goes. Perhaps we may be more successful in dealing with the genuine Afghan in the city bazaars which we are now beginning to visit.
Besides the mercenary bartering that wiles away our leisure, there is plenty of stir and excitement in our camp life. Maliks and chiefs from a distance are met in little knots, seeking out the political officers, or waiting upon the commissariat officers to enter into contracts for food supply; gaily-apparalled horsemen come to show off the graces of their Turcoman steeds; while ragged urchins on yaboos, the strong ponies peculiar to the country, ride here and there in easy confidence, halting occasionally to exchange opinions on local affairs. Near the head-quarters of the 1st Brigade is quite a little horse-fair, where General Macpherson passes in review some hundreds of yaboos daily, and purchases largely for transport purposes. The noisy, chattering crowd is densest here, and the yaboo fights are numerous, each pony choosing his nearest neighbour as a fit object of attack. Near by is the Amir’s tent with its little cluster of attendants’ pals about it, and a sentry from a guard of Europeans stationed over them pacing smartly to and fro. At times a few prisoners with an escort of sepoys are marched past on their way to the tent in head-quarters, where the military commission sits which is to try them; or on “execution days” a company of Europeans swing past with one or two men in their midst, and take the path down the ridge to the Bala Hissar, where the gallows is waiting ready. On the circular bit of raised ground, at the western end of the head-quarters’ camp and overlooking the city, is a little party of signallers near a large brass field-piece captured at Sherpur, and now used as a time-gun. The heliograph flashes up in response to one on the Bala Hissar ridge, which is speaking to Kushi, and we know that news is travelling to and from the Shutargardan. In the evening one of the bands plays on this natural band-stand, around the flag-staff which is reared in the centre, and with the last strains of “God Save the Queen” our day closes, the flag is furled, and we pass into the warmth and comfort of our snug little tents. Beneath all this surface of visible camp-life is the steady current of routine work, which goes on unceasingly and smoothly, no outside influences acting as disturbing agents. Our men are healthy and contented; their wounded comrades are doing well; supplies are coming in abundantly; and, looking down upon Sherpur, we see that warm winter quarters are being got ready; so all, apart from political questions, is rose-coloured.
Camp Siah Sung, 28th October.
This morning only did it become publicly known that Yakub Khan had abdicated the Amirship, the newspapers brought in by the mail from India giving all beyond General Roberts and his immediate advisers their first news of the occurrence. It was, of course, on account of possible mischief ensuing if the abdication were made known and the Government afterwards refused to accept it, that secrecy was observed regarding the Amir’s act; and, singularly enough, while people in India and England have been speculating as to the probable consequences of the step, we on the spot have been in happy ignorance of the under-current of events. The incidents of the abdication were as follows:—October 12th was the day appointed for the Proclamation in the Bala Hissar, at which the Amir had been ordered to attend. At six o’clock in the morning of that day he left his camp below the Siah Sung Ridge, and went with only two servants to Major Hastings, Chief Political Officer, and asked for an immediate interview with General Roberts. In a few minutes he was ushered into the General’s tent, and at his request a private interview was granted. Yakub Khan was greatly excited, and he abruptly announced his intention of resigning the Amirship. His life, he said, had become so miserable that he could no longer endure it. Sir F. Roberts at once asked him to consider what he was saying, as abdication was a very serious step. The Amir persisted in saying that his mind was made up; he had intended to resign at Kushi, but was persuaded by his Ministers not to do so. Now he would sooner be a grass-cutter in the British camp than remain Amir of Cabul. He earnestly wished that his resignation should be accepted; and, for himself, he was ready to go to India, London, Malta, or wherever the Viceroy should choose to send him. General Roberts again requested him to reconsider the matter, and placed a tent at his disposal near head-quarters. At ten o’clock, the hour fixed for falling in for the procession to the Bala Hissar, the Amir again visited the General, and announced that his decision was fixed: he wished to resign at once. Sir F. Roberts replied that he himself could not accept the resignation without having consulted the Viceroy, and he asked the Amir to let matters remain in statu quo until an answer could be received from Simla, the British authorities in the meantime carrying on the Government in the Amir’s name. Yakub Khan agreed to this without further parley, but asked permission to absent himself from the Bala Hissar that morning, as the excitement and trouble he had undergone had made him ill. He would order his eldest son and all the principal sirdars to attend and hear the Proclamation read. He was accordingly excused, and the same afternoon his tents and those of his personal attendants were moved to the head-quarters. He knew nothing of the contents of the Proclamation of October 12th, and was quite unaware of the intended arrest of his Ministers. Such were the circumstances attending his abdication.
Up to this afternoon it was believed that the ex-Amir was acting in good faith, but within the last few hours we have had reason to change our opinion. Since the entrance into the Bala Hissar, on October 12th, Yakub Khan has been living in a large tent close to head-quarters, and has had about him a little army of servants, whose tents also have been pitched about that of their master. He was reported to be much happier in his mind now that his scheming Ministers had been removed from about his person, and once or twice he had shown himself among us in the evening, walking with General Roberts up and down the row of tents in which the Staff are lodged, and listening with much delight to the band playing near. The restraint placed upon him after he had come voluntarily into our camp from among his own people on the lower slope of the Ridge, was merely that a guard of twenty European soldiers was stationed over his tents, while two sentries paced before them night and day. This was his “guard of honour” nominally, though if he had tried to escape they would instantly have become his gaolers. It was most important that we should have him with us while we were examining into the guilt of the various persons concerned in the Massacre; for if once he had been a free agent, he would probably have been made an instrument of intrigue by such men as the Mustaufi and the Wazir. This was proved by the episode of Nek Mahomed’s visit to him at Charasia the day before the action of the 6th, the commander-in-chief of the rebel army returning to Cabul and proclaiming that the Amir had ordered all men to resist the British force. Thus was there every reason to keep him under fairly close surveillance, as the scattered units of his disbanded army are still capable of doing harm if once gathered together. In my letter of the 23rd I pointed out very fully the anomalous position we were occupying here: proclaiming the Amir’s authority on the one hand, and appropriating all his stores and munitions of war on the other. This was, of course, written without knowledge of what had occurred on the 12th; and, viewed in the new light that has now scattered the political darkness here, the anomaly at once vanishes. Yakub Khan had voluntarily cast away all power and responsibility, and the only course remaining for Sir F. Roberts was to assume the discarded authority and take every means to secure order in Cabul. The clearing out of the Bala Hissar and the appropriation of all that it contained, except Yakub Khan’s personal property, now stands out as merely an ordinary taking over of effects surrendered to us, and not the spoliation of a sovereign whose authority we were re-establishing. We could not, in fact, have done otherwise, unless we had waited for a declaration of the ministerial policy at home, and the delay might, perhaps, have had mischievous results.
Now it is all plain-sailing. We know what our course is to be, and we can follow it out consistently. Yakub Khan as Amir was merely a puppet; and government through such a medium is always unsatisfactory. Now his position is simplified—and simplified, too, by his own act—though his future position in life not a man in camp can foreshadow. The proclamation accepting his abdication was received here from Simla by cypher telegram on the 26th; and to-day a translation of it was issued to the chief sirdars of Cabul, who cannot mistake the meaning conveyed in the following terse sentences:—
“I, General Roberts, on behalf of the British Government, hereby proclaim that the Amir having of his own free will abdicated, has left Afghanistan without a Government. In consequence of the shameful outrage upon its Envoy and suite, the British Government has been compelled to occupy by force of arms Cabul, the capital, and take military possession of other parts of Afghanistan. The British Government now commands that all Afghan authorities, chiefs, and sirdars do continue their functions in maintaining order, referring to me whenever necessary. The British Government desires that the people shall be treated with justice and benevolence, and that their religious feelings and customs be respected. The services of such sirdars and chiefs as assist in preserving order will be duly recognized; but all disturbers of the peace and persons concerned in attacks upon the British authority will meet with condign punishment. The British Government, after consultation with the principal sirdars, tribal chiefs, and others representing the interests and wishes of the various provinces and cities, will declare its will as to the future permanent arrangements to be made for the good government of the people.”
Judging from internal evidence, this Proclamation bears the stamp of the home Ministry, and it has been hailed with unbounded satisfaction by all among us who have been fearing a repetition of the old shilly-shally policy which has had such disastrous results. The Government has now committed itself to a distinct policy which can be proclaimed throughout Afghanistan, and our duty now is to wait until “the principal sirdars, tribal chiefs, and others representing the interests and wishes of the various provinces and cities,” have been made aware of what has occurred. Messengers will be sent with copies of the Proclamation to them; and they will no doubt be invited to come to Cabul, and hear the “will” of the British Government. It is no longer a question of the “wishes” of the Viceroy of India, but a distinct assertion of our newly-acquired power in Afghanistan.
To-day has been marked, also, not only by the issue of the Proclamation, but by a new change of front on the part of Yakub Khan. Whatever his fears or suspicions may be, or whatever guilty consciousness he may have of participation in the Massacre, he has withdrawn so far from his position of the 12th—when he said he would willingly go wherever the Viceroy might deport him: to India, London, or Malta—that he has contemplated flight to Turkistan. Such, at least, is the information generally believed to have been received; and the action taken this afternoon proves that he has so far committed himself as to jeopardize his future freedom. About five o’clock his tent was isolated by the removal of all those of his servants pitched about it: his guard was increased to forty British soldiers, and instead of two sentries there are now four pacing to and fro with fixed bayonets. A fifth sentry is within the tent itself, and the ex-Amir is as close a prisoner as he can be made. Four personal attendants only are now allowed to him, and these, also, are under guard. His food will be examined carefully before it is passed to his servants, and every possible precaution against outside information being conveyed to him will be taken.
Camp Siah Sung, 30th October.
Since the issue of the Proclamation and the close confinement of Yakub Khan to his tent two days ago, there has been no further development of the situation, and it seems as if we should quietly wait here for the winter in order to allow events to develop themselves without further demonstration of our force. We have Cabul city and its guilt to deal with; and though there are few outward signs of the investigation into the circumstances surrounding the Massacre of our Embassy, there is a steady stream of work running on, the results of which have yet to be declared. This has been done chiefly by Colonel Macgregor, aided hitherto, by Hyat Khan, Assistant Political Officer, who ferrets out persons likely to give evidence; and now that Dr. Bellew (the third member of the Commission) has arrived, still further progress is being made in unravelling the complicated web of falsehood which has been drawn about the occurrence. Sixty witnesses have been examined privately; and, as each one is quite in ignorance of what has been said before, the truth of the various stories told can be tested by the comparisons drawn between the testimony of the friends and enemies of Yakub Khan. Such of his late confidential advisers and adherents as have come under cross-examination have generally injured his cause by affirming too much; and plausible stories have been concocted to divert attention from his shortcoming in not affording material aid to Sir Louis Cavagnari. Much, for instance, has been made of the little flash of energy he showed in sending Daoud Shah and thirty men to remonstrate with the mutineers; and it has been asserted that the determined attitude of the rabble was proved by Daoud Shah being bayoneted and all his escort killed. But when this episode is looked closely into, and a little independent evidence is taken, it becomes apparent that Daoud Shah had merely a few attendants with him, and none of these were killed; while he himself was by no means so maltreated as he would have us believe. There is another incident, too, which assumes a new complexion when carefully examined. Soon after the Massacre, Yakub Khan put to death Abdul Karim, a powerful Kohistani chief, whose English proclivities were very pronounced. The explanation of this act, as given by Abdullah Gyaz (a confidential adviser of the ex-Amir, arrested yesterday) is that Yakub Khan sent that chief from his palace to remonstrate with the troops, and that, instead of carrying out his orders, he gave direct encouragement to the mutineers, and urged them to continue their attack on the Residency. Upon Abdul Karim’s return to the palace, Abdullah Gyaz affirms, Yakub Khan was informed of his treacherous disobedience, and, after the Massacre had taken place, ordered that he should be executed. This story is so utterly improbable that it is scarcely worth consideration; but its falsity has been proved very directly, as the name of every man of importance who went near the mutinous troops has been obtained from various sources, friendly and otherwise, and Abdul Karim has never before been mentioned in the list. The inference that suggests itself is that the wire-pullers about Yakub Khan were distrustful of Abdul Karim, whose honesty of purpose and known sympathy with the English rendered him a dangerous personage in their eyes, and on the principle that dead men tell no tales, they induced the Amir to sanction his execution. He probably knew too much, and was put out of the way before he had an opportunity of using his knowledge. In an investigation, such as that now going on, it is only possible to shape out conclusions by inference, for even such witnesses as profess unbounded friendship towards us lie so circumstantially to serve their own ends, that very little reliance can be placed on them. It is not as if a long period had elapsed since the events took place: the occurrence must still be fresh in the minds of everybody: but there is such a tendency to intrigue now that our power is established in Cabul, that distrust is bred in our minds in an increasing ratio as the evidence accumulates. There is no bottom to the well in which Afghan truth was sunk ages ago, and it is disheartening to sound it now. The ex-Amir’s partisans have lied honestly enough to shield their master, while he was still protected by us; but now that he is a nonentity, and all semblance of power has passed from him, there may be a change in their attitude. They have a certain rude idea of faithfulness to their salt; but when they see their Chief arrested without a word of warning, after being allowed to move freely among us for weeks, their fortitude may not be equal to the emergency, and they may seek to purchase their own safety by voluntary disclosures. For these we must wait.
In the mean time the smaller fry are being dealt with by the Military Commission, under whose orders eleven prisoners have been hanged. The order of procedure is that the case against men under arrest is fully gone into by Colonel Macgregor, aided by Hyat Khan; and when the evidence and witnesses are ready, the prisoners are “committed,” so to say, to the Commission, just as in ordinary criminal inquiries they would be passed from the Police Magistrate to the Assize Judge. There is no unseemly hurry or vindictive haste displayed in the inquiry. All goes on systematically and deliberately; and before the Commission the men under arrest are allowed to hear all that has been stated against them and to give such explanation as they desire. If there then appears new matter for inquiry, they are remanded from day to day; and no effort is spared, in common fairness to them, to test the truth of their statements. If found guilty, they are condemned to death; but even then the sentence is not carried out without reference to a third source of authority—that of Sir Frederick Roberts himself. If he approves the finding, he signs the order for execution, and the Provost-Marshal has then to fulfil the duty of his office without delay. But if there seem doubtful points strong enough to be yet a third time considered, the sentence of death is held in suspense; and even now we have in our quarter-guards men in this stage, with the halter dangling before their eyes. It will be seen that nothing can be fairer than the course taken by Sir Frederick Roberts to punish such as deserve death for their past actions in the early weeks of September; and in the face of it there is none of that reckless blood-spilling which we may get the credit for. In our Assize the old line—
“And wretches hang that jurymen may dine—”
is unknown: and if there is grumbling occasionally at the pains taken to convict prisoners instead of hanging them on mere suspicion, it is all the more creditable to our Chief and his Commissioners that no attention is paid to it. To-day two men were marched off to execution who richly deserved their fate. The one was the jemadar of the rascally Kotwal of Cabul, himself hanged on the 20th. Like the Kotwal, he was most servile in offering aid to us after our arrival, and, on the night of the 8th, acted as a guide to some troops marching up the Bala Hissar Ridge[Ridge], in connection with the action against the rebels on that day. The second prisoner was a Mahomedan resident of Cabul, in whose house a box, marked “Cabul Embassy,” was found by a searching party of the 28th Regiment. He could give no explanation of how he came by the box, except the colourless one that it had been placed in his rooms by an enemy. Several guns and swords were also found in his house; and, nothing in his favour being forthcoming, he was sent to execution. The guilt or innocence of the confidential friends of Yakub Khan, who are now prisoners, is still a question of doubt; but none are arrested without justification, and their cases will undergo the usual scrutiny.
There is a probability that the taking of Cabul may not be so barren as we first thought in the matter of loot. The city itself having been respected, there was not much to get out of the Bala Hissar beyond warlike stores and ammunition. But to-day the news has been made known that a vast store of treasure is hidden in houses belonging to Yakub Khan, or his near relatives living within the walls. Our treasure-chest has sunk very low of late[late] by reason of the enormous purchases made by the Commissariat, which has to provide five months’ stores for the army. Carriage was so scarce when we marched up from Ali Kheyl, that only a few lakhs were brought up, and poverty is staring us in the face. Such expedients as giving bills upon India to Hindu and Kizilbash merchants in Cabul, or in receiving from Wali Mahomed and his sirdars many thousands of Bokhara gold tillahs (worth Rs. 9 or Rs. 10 each), or Russian five-rouble pieces said to be worth Rs. 11-8, though nobody really knows their legitimate market value—such expedients could not last long; and as nothing has been done to exact the fine imposed upon the Cabulis, it was clear that specie would have to be raised from some source yet untouched. It is said that Yakub Khan, on assuming the Amirship, appropriated many lakhs of rupees which his father had given to the mother of Abdullah Jan, Shere Ali’s favourite son, and these he had cleared out of the Bala Hissar, and, with other property of value, had hidden in the city. A little party of British soldiers filed off to the house indicated by our informers this morning, and the officer in charge of our treasure-chest (Major Moriarty) and Lieutenant Neville Chamberlain, Assistant Political Officer, had soon their eyes gladdened by bags and boxes of gold coins, besides finding on all sides rich silks, brocades, and other portable property of enormous value. About eight lakhs in gold were secured, and native rumour affirms that before the examination comes to an end, a million sterling may be unearthed. Boxes innumerable have still to be opened, and our spies are firm in their assurance that the value in coin and precious stones alone is eighty lakhs of rupees. To-morrow the examination of the place will be continued, and it is hoped another good day’s find will be the result. This prize-money, for no doubt it will be considered as such, if it is confiscated, will be a just reward for the energy and dash our commander and his troops have shown in the capture of Cabul; and even if it is found necessary to use the money now for our immediate wants, the debtor and creditor account should be carefully kept in view of future distribution. Such scandals as that of Delhi and Kirwee need not be repeated in the case of Cabul.[[22]]