The Durbar was one of the most striking and picturesque sights I have seen. The background was formed by the deep shadows of the trees: under a brilliantly coloured awning, lit up by a multitude of lamps, sat some two hundred officers, in every kind of uniform, resplendent with gold embroidery; and at intervals, around the awning and Palace, stood an Afghan soldier in native costume, holding a blazing torch in one hand and an oil flask in the other, and the gleam from the torches on the billowy masses of leaf gave those soft touches of light in the background which prevent it being heavy. We had dinner somewhat early, as the men had been fasting all day. When we got home the Armenian gave an explanation as to why the Amîr was so particularly charming. It was this:--During the shooting expedition, a great deal of wild pig had been killed, and the chief Cook sent a messenger to enquire whether I would have roast pork for dinner. I was highly indignant, thinking, that as the pig is unclean, an insult was intended. I ordered the messenger to be thrashed--he was the bearer of evil tidings--and threatened direful things if such a message were repeated. The Sultana then sent for the Armenian and enquired if I would not like a young pig or two, and whether it were not a fact that Christians ate pig. The Armenian said that Christians were indeed allowed by their religion to do so; but that neither Christian Priests nor Christian Doctors ever suffered anything unclean to pass their lips!! [Sidenote: The Attempted Vendetta: the Result.] The same evening a man was brought on a charpoy suffering great pain from a “strangulated hernia.” To save his life it was necessary to operate that night. He was moved to the Hospital, where all the instruments were, and I did the operation by the light of two or three tallow candles. The next morning the brother of the patient was lying in wait for me at the Hospital with several large knives, seeking to slay me. He said I had killed his brother! “On the contrary,” I explained, “I have saved his life.” Then the Armenian came forward in all his strength. “Harem Zada!” he shouted, “thou base-born scoundrel, thy _Father_ could not speak in the Sahib’s presence!” and he laid his stick across the man’s shoulders with such vigour and energy that presently he broke it. He then flung the pieces at him and told him to “get”--“Birau” in Persian. He “got” accordingly.