In the storeroom of the Dispensary I found on the shelves of glazed cupboards a great many cases of old-fashioned surgical instruments, some of which were marked “Hon. East India Co.,” and on other shelves a large collection of European drugs in their bottles, jars, and parcels. The name of each drug was written in Persian as well as in English characters. These had been ordered from time to time by certain Hindustani Hospital assistants who were in the service of the Amîr, and who had had charge of the Out-patient Hospital and the European drug stores. The Hospital assistants had not used any great amount of judgment in their orders, nor had they considered expense in the least. I found great quantities of patent medicines warranted to cure every disease under the sun; and of the newer and more expensive drugs of which so much is expected and so little is known. The old tried friends of the Medical Profession, whose cost is reasonable and whose action is known, such as quinine, ipecacuanha, carbonate of ammonia, Epsom salts, were conspicuous by their absence. I enquired what plan had been adopted by the Hindustanis when they were making out their orders, and learnt that they got hold of the price list of some enterprising vendor which had found its way to Kabul through India, and ticking off any drugs or patent mixtures that seemed to promise an easy road to success in treatment, they ordered great quantities of these, regardless of cost and before they had tested them. The stores were in charge of a Hindustani, who had obtained a medical qualification in Lahore, and who had been in the British service. He showed me a medal, and was reported to be in receipt of a small pension from the Government, though how he received it while in Kabul I never heard. I reached the Hospital about nine o’clock in the morning, and found myself confronted by some eighty sick Afghans who had heard of the arrival of a “Feringhi doctor,” and were all eager to be cured by him. In the time when Lord Roberts occupied Kabul the regimental surgeons had done good work among the Afghans. A guard, with fixed bayonet, stood at the door to keep off the crush; he did not use the bayonet, but he used a stick that he had with some vigour. [Sidenote: The First Patient.] Every patient who had a weapon, and most Afghans wear one of some kind, was disarmed before he entered the room. I had no interpreter, and had been advised by Mr. Pyne not to learn Persian; so that when the first patient was admitted I was in somewhat of a difficulty. I had seen in a Persian grammar that the word “Dard” meant _pain_, so that when the first man came up I said, “Dard?” putting a note of interrogation after it. The patient looked blankly at me. I thought he must be intellectually very dull, and I repeated my word, but with no better result. Not knowing quite what to say next, I examined him with the stethoscope.