I replied that I felt the honour he did me deeply, for I was his servant and he a King. He said:-- “I have seen many men: high and low; rich and poor; men of noble descent, and men of obscure birth; but I call no man a friend of my heart till I have watched his deeds. I judge a man by his deeds, and not by his words, and again I address you as a Friend of my Heart.” His Highness desired me to take eight months’ leave; my pay was to continue during my absence, and, in addition, he gave me as a wedding present an order upon his Agent with the Government in India for a considerable sum of money. The Armenian, who was to accompany me, received written instructions relating to the commissions the Amîr wished executed in London. During his absence his salary would be paid to his wife in Kabul. [Sidenote: Adieux.] The next day my packing was done. Firmans for pack-horses, tents, and guard procured, and I took a formal leave of His Highness the Amîr. I visited Prince Habibullah, who received me most kindly, and after he had conversed with me for about an hour I took leave of him. I then rode out to Aliabad, a few miles out of Kabul, where Her Highness the Sultana was staying, and sent in my salaams to her and the little Prince Mahomed Omer. Her Highness sent a large tray of sweetmeats, and presented me with some very beautiful embroidered cashmere. On June 4th, after a good-bye to Mr. Pyne and the other Englishmen, I started on my journey home. I will not trace the journey in detail: it was excessively hot, and I will merely mention one or two incidents that occurred. One day the march was particularly trying. We were at Borikâb. I had breakfast at dawn--three small poached-eggs and some tea. The baggage and tents were sent off, and when the sun rose we started gaily. Gaily--_I_--poor fool! little did I know--but you shall hear. We trotted and trotted, and shuffled and climbed by mountain and gorge, over pebble and rock, until at midday we reached Jigdilik. We descended, and sat in the valley in the cool shade of the big trees and had lunch. Mine was a hard-boiled egg from my holster, a piece of native bread, and some tea. I thought the march was over, and lay basking in the shade. Was ever mortal so deluded! “Sir, please you get up and start; a long way we go to-day,”--thus the Armenian after an hour. “Start!! man alive, we started hours ago: you are not going any further to-day, surely.” “Sir, we must make haste. Between Dacca and Lalpur, this month is very difficult hot: and slowly by slowly it makes hotter. Better this, we get through it soon: you European.” Immortal Pluto! not the Turkestan plains over again! “Come along, then,” said I, jumping up, “let us start at once,” and we started. Along the narrow rocky ravine we rode--just after midday in June--and the sun shot down at us. It dried our blood, and the glare burnt into our brain, at any rate, into mine; I don’t know about the cast-iron Afghans.