For wounds, ulcers, or abscesses the villagers bind on either a piece of fresh sheepskin, which they leave on till it stinks, or a piece of an old water bag (mussack), which they soften afresh by soaking. Sometimes they plaster on mud or clay. In the case of ulcers, the fact that they _never_ heal under these circumstances does not seem to strike the Afghans, and they continue in the old custom. If the discharge oozes from under the clay they plaster on a little more. Cover a sore, get it out of sight, is the golden rule of hakims, dressers, and people. The condition of the ulcer when the clay is removed is indescribable. In some cases the only possible treatment is the removal of the limb. [Sidenote: The Feringhi as a Healer.] I noticed that the richer and more educated Afghans did not seem so ready to avail themselves of European medical aid as the poorer people, and it struck me there were two reasons for this. First, that the hakims took the trouble to explain to the richer people, from whom they expected to receive fees, that Europeans use deadly poisons in their medicines, which are just as likely to kill as to cure. A certain amount of weight attaches to this by the often unfortunate results of medical treatment by the Hindustani hospital assistants. The other reason seems to be due, not to the hakims, but to the influence of the priests. The more religious of the Afghans apparently look upon a European as one who, by the help of the Powers of Evil, has in this world the gifts of knowledge, skill, and wealth, but who in the next life must inevitably be consigned to eternal torment. Doubtless with his deadly poisons he can cure diseases if he wish, but it is not wise, and, indeed, is scarcely lawful, for a sick man to make use of him. They feel it will offend God less if, before they traffic with the evil one by employing a Feringhi doctor, they use all lawful and right means to become well, such as trying the efficacy of prayer, or the wearing of amulets and charms: should these fail, by placing themselves under the care of their hereditary physicians, the hakims, who attended their fathers and their fathers’ fathers. They can always call in the Feringhi as a last resource. The peasants and the hillmen, the soldiers and the poorer townsfolk--in fact, all those who are but occasionally under the influence of the priests, and from whom the hakims can expect a small, if any fee--these are ready enough to trust themselves, when sick, to European medical skill. They take advantage of that which seems to them good, as an animal might, without entering upon the deeper question whether it is religiously right or wrong--in fact, they even look upon a doctor as one to be classed with Dewanas or madmen, and prophets, who are all more or less sacred.