My “fool-horse”—the fighter, with tooth and nail (that is to say, hoof)—developed “cracked heels.” This was unfortunate, for I knew nothing about horse doctoring, and he got into the habit of stumbling and coming down on his nose. Twice did I remain on under these circumstances, and proudly I said to the Armenian,
“Behold, now! I am as a great rider among men.”
“Yes, sir?” said the Armenian, “I think it you fall off.”
But, alas! Pride cometh, then cometh the fall. Then next time he came down I went over his head. There was a sentence I had to learn in my Persian lesson that day that seemed appropriate, it was:—“Ba zamin ûftad, Ustoghonash rèz rèz shud,” which means, “He fell to the earth and his bones were broken to pieces.” Not that mine were, but they might have been. I seemed, as it were, to have lost confidence in my horse, and I said to the Armenian, “This must not occur again; see to it.”
“Sir! what I do?” he asked.
“Sell him, or shoot him.”
But he said No; he would report the matter to Amîr Sahib at the next Durbar.
The Amîr as a Pathologist.
Tuesday arrived and we went to the Durbar. After I had saluted His Highness, and was seated, a case of epilepsy was brought. His Highness described to me the symptoms the man was exhibiting, told me the Persian name of the disease, and gave his own views as to the pathology. He told me the old books said, that a man in this condition was possessed by the Devil, “Shaitân;” but, that this was, of course, absurd. He went on to say that he considered the disease was due to an organism—probably, animal—having found its way into the ventricles of the brain: the irritation caused by its presence culminating in a nervous explosion; the outward signs of which were a convulsive seizure, a thrusting forward of the tongue, spasm of the jaws, a foaming at the mouth, and insensibility. He said, he wished to administer a native medicine, but, at the same time, I was to give such European drugs as I thought suitable for the case.