Riding along we met one of the “running postmen”: a tall, gaunt hillman without an ounce of superfluous fat on him. These men run for a certain number of miles with the sealed leather post satchel, and then pass it on to the next. There are rough sheds by the wayside where each remains till his turn comes. They carry a long bamboo lance tipped and shod with steel, and with a small bell fixed just below the blade. The post for India leaves Kabul on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and that from India arrives on Sundays and Thursdays. At the stage before Kabul I had received a letter from His Highness directing me to take possession of the house I formerly occupied in the town: to rest for a day; and on the following day to come on to Endekki, when he would receive me. [Sidenote: The Arrival.] We arrived at Kabul on a Sunday morning, in March, 1892. It was a proud day for the Armenian as he rode through the bazaar with his solar helmet on one side--no miserable native turban for him now. His hand was on his hip and his elbow pointed outwards: his uplifted head desired to strike the stars. With a lofty pity, not unmingled with contempt, he gazed around at the admiring faces of the salaaming Kabulis. Was he not a traveller of renown: one who had crossed the great river and penetrated to the very heart of the Feringhi country! Mr. Walter, the tailor, rode out to meet us; he said to the Armenian: “Well, did you like London?” “Sir, what _d’you_ think! But London is very good place for rich man, very bad place for poor man. Kabul is good for poor man.” “What did you do in London?” asked Mr. Walter. “O, Sir! A little I walk this way and that, and upon ladies I pinch eyes.” By this I fancy he must have meant he winked. It was a revelation to me, and I looked at him severely. What other remarkable development might I not detect! I heard from Mr. Walter that the two engineers, Messrs. Stewart and Myddleton, had departed, and their places were taken by two Scotchmen. Mr. Pyne had gone to England on leave and had not yet returned. He was to bring out several other Englishmen. The Armenian had the house swept out, the carpets down, and everything straight in a very short time. Several people called in the afternoon. Some of the Armenian’s relatives: the Compounder; and some Afghans whom I knew. I found half-a-dozen letters waiting for me, one from my wife, whereat I rejoiced, and one from a lady missionary in India who wished to enter the Amîr’s service as medical attendant upon the Harem.