The dismantlement of the Bala Hissar has made such rapid progress, that within the walls the houses are now in ruins, all the beams and wooden supports, as well as every scrap of timber of every kind, being in course of removal to Sherpur. We are looking forward to a severe winter; and, however snug our quarters may be in the long ranges of barracks built here by Shere Ali, there will be much discomfort, not to say sickness, if firewood runs short. There are no forests from which large supplies can be drawn: the hillsides all around being bare rock or shingly deposit on which no vegetation can grow. Some of the large houses in the Bala Hissar, though now deserted and partially demolished, show signs of luxury and comfort which speak highly of the pains taken by rich sirdars to enjoy life in their own rude way. The palace in which Yakub Khan lived was furnished luxuriously, no doubt, in his estimation; thick Persian carpets, bright-coloured rugs and _dhurries_ covering the floors; while English-made tables, sideboards, and chairs were ranged side by side with the usual Eastern pillows, cushions, and _rezais_, which are the delight of indolent loungers. In one small room the ceiling was so closely hung with glass chandeliers that to move about was to risk a small shower of pendants falling; while the shades for the candles were of such brilliancy in light green and pink that the effect in the bright sunshine was quite dazzling. “Pearls and barbaric gold” there were none to be seen,—they had been removed for safe-keeping to his father-in-law’s house in the city, where the ladies of the harem were also lodged,—but such gimcracks as usually light up the houses of the poorest classes in England were not wanting. Cheap pictures in common gilded frames, the kind turned out by the thousand in Germany, all gaudy colours and painfully real, were hanging on the walls; while a few well-executed portraits of Russian officers, in full uniform and bedecked with orders, were found scattered about. These were all neatly framed in wood, and were so well got up that most probably they had been presents to Shere Ali from the Embassy, whose stay in Cabul gave rise to such serious results. One small picture was discovered, which is certainly a great curiosity. It is plainly the work of an Afghan artist, and carries us back to the disasters of 1841-42, when for a time our arms suffered so serious a reverse. The subject of the drawing is an Afghan on horseback, in full splendour of gold-braided coat of many colours, enormous black Astrakan hat with its characteristic cone shape, small black boots peeping out of the white drapery of his wide-flowing trouser, and the silver scabbard of his sword dangling at his side. His saddle is gorgeous in red and gold, while the trappings of his charger are bright with elaborate gilding. The horse is, in the language of heraldry, _rampant_, while his rider sits proudly in the saddle, staring