one stall the silks of Bokhara and indigenous products of the Khanates are packed side by side with the cloths of Manchester; while in another Sheffield cutlery and “Brummagem” goods are the near neighbours of the rudely-made iron-ware and roughly-finished jewellery of native artificers. That the bazaars are full of goods of all kinds, from diamonds to _dhoties_, and from _kabobs_ to cabbages, is quite true, but it all seems petty trading, and the stalls, if numerous, are small and insignificant-looking. The city feeds as it trades—in its bazaars; and the picturesque view of a silk-merchant’s shop is marred by its association with the masses of meat on the butcher’s stall adjoining, or the incongruous grouping of the filthy goods of a clothesman near by. And yet when once the feeling of disappointed expectations has been overcome, there is much to notice and criticise, both in the people and the place. Our ride through was necessarily a hurried one—it is never good policy to make long halts when traversing for the first time the streets of a conquered city—and apart from the above comments, which I have set down, as they are the general impressions left upon my mind after a hasty visit, I will try to give a rough sketch of Cabul, such as we saw it to-day. That it was seen under abnormal circumstances should, of course, be steadily kept in mind. After entering by the Lahore Gate, wide enough to admit two horsemen abreast with comfort—the gate is nothing more than the usual tall wooden framework let into the dilapidated mud wall—we entered a dirty, ill-kept street, and followed it for a short distance until it branched off right and left, to the Char Chowk, or chief bazaar in the Afghan quarter on the one hand, and to Chandaul on the other. We took the latter road to the left, the dead walls of the houses shutting in all but the immediate view. Little gaps on the left, where side passages had been made, enabled us to see the wall of the Bala Hissar, in places only forty or fifty yards off. It looked strong and menacing when compared with the city itself. Leaving the fortress behind we turned to the right, and were soon in a narrow, but well-kept, bazaar. The stalls, raised two or three feet from the ground, were filled with articles such as one always meets in native Indian cities, varied occasionally by heaps of grapes, melons, apples, and fruit and vegetables of the kind which the gardens about produce so lavishly. This was the Hindu quarter, and the stall-owners watched us ride past with every expression of satisfaction, salaaming smilingly, and no doubt praying that the English _raj_ might now be established and last for ever. These Hindus have had rough times to endure when their Afghan masters have played the tyrant, and they now see an era of safety and rupees before them which shall repay them for all their past sufferings. The bazaars continued for a considerable distance, and Hindu faces with their caste marks were replaced after a