and there dwell the poorer Hazara agriculturists of the Bamian valley. There are cave-dwellers in many parts of Afghanistan, and it is men of this kind, who combine the professions of agriculturist and warrior, who would be likely to cause more trouble to an invader of Afghanistan than would the regular army of the Amîr. During the last Afghan war the English were at first much puzzled by the rapidity with which thousands of armed men would appear, and, if occasion required, the equal rapidity with which they would vanish. All that could be found was here and there a peaceful peasant hard at work in the fields with his mattock--the rifle was left at home. The furniture of one of these rock dwellings is simple enough. The most prominent feature is the great ornamented earthen jar, in which grain and provisions are stored: a strip of carpet occupies the place of honour in the centre of the floor: a few copper cooking utensils, a “chillim,” an Afghan “samovar” for tea, and a rough “charpoy,” complete the establishment. In the Bamian valley, fertile, full of interest and with a delightful climate, we travelled deliberately, taking two days to traverse the ten miles or so. As we rode, my Armenian told me many stories. I do not know what they were about; I didn’t then. One only I understood. He said that once on a march, utterly wearied, he went to sleep on horseback. “It is thrown out,” said he, meaning himself; and pointing to his forehead, with a mild smile, he said, “He is broke, and blood is come.” I laughed, and asked what happened next. “I got him upstairs horse, but I not go to sleep again.” [Sidenote: The Pass of the “Tooth-breaker.”]