Yesterday two ressaldars of the Afghan cavalry, who were proved to have been in the Bala Hissar during the attack upon the Embassy, and to have shared in the after-events, were marched out to execution in the Bala Hissar. When told they were to suffer death ignominiously by hanging, they showed no alarm, answering merely “It is well.” This indifference to death stands these men in good stead; for, if found guilty, they are executed within twenty-four hours, thus leaving them only a very short time in which to consider the awkward termination of their careers. As a little trait of character it may be mentioned that one of these ressaldars, a fine portly man, picked out the stone from his signet-ring during the night, his pride no doubt prompting him to destroy the stone sooner than it should fall into infidel hands. It may be that he found means to convey it away secretly to his friends; but so close a watch is kept upon condemned prisoners that this seems unlikely. Ten o’clock is the hour at which men are generally hanged; and now, daily, a little crowd of soldiers, camp-followers, and traders from the city gathers near the 72nd quarter-guard, from which starts the road down the ridge. The soldiers, in shirt-sleeves and with the favourite short pipe in their mouths, betray but faint curiosity, looking upon the culprits with hearty contempt, and only regretful that they have not had to meet them in fair fight. “If we’d been the French,” I heard one man plaintively say, “there’d have been more than two or three.” No doubt there would; but our mode of warfare with men, compared with whom the Arabs of Algeria are gentlemen, is very different to that followed by the generals of Napoleon III. The few Afghans who watch the little company of British infantry marching down with the prisoners in their midst are almost as much attracted by the bayonets of our men as by the presence of their unlucky countrymen; and they soon turn back to our tents to mulct us in rupees by sharp bargaining in poshteens (sheep-skin coats), furs, carpets, and Russian chinaware. The two ressaldars stepped out boldly enough to keep pace with their escort; and whatever their feelings may have been, they concealed them stolidly enough. They looked less brave when standing pinioned, with the rope about their necks, facing the ruins of the Residency; and not one on-looker felt the least pity for them, for the shot-marked walls on every side call up bitter memories and silence any thought of mercy. Our Black Assize is a very small one so far; for the majority of the leaders have escaped, and we have to content ourselves with the small fry. Even as it is, men are remanded from day to day if the evidence is at all faulty, and the Military Commission are careful to avoid jumping to conclusions. To-day a sepoy of the 1st Herat Regiment was hanged; and as he was caught in the city by a Kizilbash, it is expected that more of his companions are still hidden within the walls.