It was too dark in the Pavilion to see the condition of the ear, and His Highness at once consented to come out into the open. A chair was brought, and His Highness sat with bare head in the blazing sun. “Surely there is danger of sunstroke,” I thought.
I begged permission to put on my helmet, saying I was afraid of the sun. I thought His Highness might then cover his own head; no, he did not seem to mind the heat. I examined the ear with the speculum and found nothing in it. He had, however, a slight catarrh of the throat and of the Eustachian tube leading from the throat to the inner ear. I pointed out the danger of exposing the body while the skin is acting freely to a draught of cold damp air; and indicated the line of treatment I should adopt if I were to attend to the ear. His Highness coincided with my views, said that he had the medicines I spoke of, and should certainly try them. It struck me that all he wanted really was to know if there were anything in his ear: he had not asked me to prescribe for him.
I heard that His Highness spoke highly of me after I left. I think he was not yet prepared to place himself entirely in my hands, and I had not forced him into the uncomfortable position of having to refuse my treatment and, therefore, appear somewhat discourteous.
There is, in this part of Turkestan, a disease which bears a strong resemblance to the so-called Delhi boil—or, more correctly, Delhi ulcer. It was exceedingly prevalent while I was in Turkestan, and after trying various remedies ineffectually I hit upon one which had a marked beneficial effect. Formerly, the ulcers—which appear on the exposed parts of the body, the hands, feet, and face—were very intractable and rarely healed in less than a year. Under the popular native treatment they sometimes attained enormous proportions, and became covered with most exuberant granulations—great mounds of proud flesh: now they healed rapidly in a month, or less, according to the size, so that I gained a sort of reputation in this line. One day the British Agent, Colonel Attaullah Khan, sent his Secretary to ask me to visit him, as he was suffering from one of these sores upon his heel, and his own Hindustani medical attendant had been unsuccessful in giving him relief.
I said, certainly, I would come, and was pulling on my boots, when the Armenian said:—
“Sir, please you kind, a little you wait.”
“What for?” said I, with a boot half on.
“First, I write to Amîr Sahib and ask; then you go or you not go, as he says. You Amîr Sahib’s servant.”
“Well, but——” However, I thought there was no harm in his writing at any rate, and I waited. His Highness’s answer arrived.
The Amîr’s Answer.