Shortly after my visit to the general, I developed, from being constantly among the sick, a “Hospital throat,” and had to stop at home for a day or two. His Highness sent me a very kind message of condolence; and while I was at home there was brought to me, from the Post Office, a post card written in French and addressed to the “Postmaster-General, Afghanistan.” The Amîr wished to know what was written. I found the card came from the Postmaster of some small Belgian town. It was a proposal on his part to the Postmaster-General of Afghanistan to exchange “stamps.” He was, he explained, a “stamp collector.” With the help of the Armenian I sent a Persian translation to His Highness. The Amîr directed me to write and enquire what was the colour of the stamps the collector required: on receipt of his answer they would be forwarded to him. I imagine His Highness considered that the collection was more for artistic effect than on account of the intrinsic value of the stamps. The Belgian received his stamps in due time. Just at this time, too, I received a letter from the Editor of one of the Indian papers asking me to contribute a series of articles on Afghanistan. As, however, I was in the service of the Amîr I did not feel justified in doing so, and was compelled to leave the letter unanswered. [Sidenote: The Escape of Allah Nûr.] Another incident also occurred. There was in the Hospital a soldier named Allah Nûr. He was suffering from disease of the elbow, which had advanced to such a degree that the joint was completely disorganized. The Hakims had promised to cure him by the application of ointments. I explained to him, however, that this was impossible, and that the only remedy was to remove the arm. Poor Allah Nûr had been ill a long time: he was much reduced by pain and constant discharge, and he begged me from day to day to postpone the operation. He explained his dread of the knife, of which he seemed ashamed, by calling attention to his pitiable state of weakness. When I was laid up with my throat he seized the opportunity one night to make his escape from the Hospital: he got on a donkey which some kind friend had provided, and managed to reach a place called Takh-ta-Pul, some three or four miles off, before he was captured. The next morning he was brought back and taken before the Amîr. His Highness said:-- “A child or a fool is he who runs from his Physician.” He sent for a probe and proceeded to examine the joint. “Without doubt the limb must come off,” said he. “Barâie Khuda!” said Allah Nûr. “Be silent!” said the Amîr. “For God’s sake, do not. My Lord----” The Amîr reached out his Royal hand and boxed his ear. Allah Nûr was conducted back to the Hospital. That afternoon, my throat being better, I attended the military Durbar. His Highness discussed with me the case of Allah Nûr, advising amputation.