After we had drunk tea permission was given us to withdraw, and we rode home. During the reception the Armenian had translated. Waiting outside and expecting to be sent for, was the Hindustani, but though Prince Habibullah asked where he was, no one answered. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXVI. A KABUL SPRING. Spring clothing: a grateful Afghan. Poison bowls. The dreadful book. A haunted house: the skeleton in the garden. Increase of patients. Called to the Palace: Amîr’s costume: flowers: Amîr’s generous proposal. Troubles of a Ruler: Secretary in disgrace. Amîr’s plans for the future. Geologists in the service: their difficulties. Occidental _v._ Oriental. Mercantile commissions. The Armenian’s leave. Delay. The locusts. Prince Mahomed Omer and his Lâla. The Palace gardens. A military Durbar. Amîr’s thoughtfulness. A portrait. Amîr’s opinion of his people: education of his soldiers. The arrest: murder of the prisoner: the Amîr’s decision. Other portraits. Ramazàn. Rising of the river. The Îd Festival. The Physician’s plans: the Amîr’s comment. Prince Habibullah’s portrait: the Shaghassi’s criticism. Prince Nasrullah’s portrait: his remark. The holidays lasted a week. The sports were continued at Asmai, and in the evening fireworks were let off in the town. Whatever the weather may be, postîns and winter clothing are never left off till Naû Roz, and never continued afterwards. The weather, however, in Afghanistan behaves more according to rule and is less eccentric than in England. I became clothed in a tunic of camel’s hair and a leather belt. Around the brow the awe-inspiring turban was wreathed in many folds--heavy but picturesque and protecting. The camel-hair cloth was given me by a grateful Afghan because I cut off his little son’s toe. He also gave me two ancient China bowls. These were intelligent articles, for if at any time food should be put into them containing poison they would at once break themselves into a thousand pieces--at least, so I was informed; I did not, however, put the bowls to the inconvenience of exhibiting their power of discernment, for it seemed better to keep them as they were than to take them home in a thousand pieces. At this time I found that the Engineers had got a book, and I borrowed it, having had nothing new to read for many months. The book was that ancient and gruesome collection of stories called “The Night Side of Nature.” The narratives in it were similar to those that the _Review of Reviews_ laid before Seekers after Truth, under the title of “Real Ghost Stories.” [Sidenote: A Haunted House.] It was a dreadful book. Read it alone in the haunted wing of a house, and in a town full of the memory of murders and midnight assassins; where in the dead silence of the night unaccountable noises force themselves upon the startled ear; and see how you like it. I knew my house was haunted, because I had been told so.