Nowshera is forty miles from Peshawur. When we were there, in 1868, there was nothing to be seen but a large barracks like a prison situated on the right of the Trunk Road from Peshawur to Attock. When the leave season came round, there was no cholera to prevent me getting away, so I decided to apply for six months’ leave, and to spend them in Cashmere. Our tents, three in number, were as light as they could possibly be made. I took the precaution to have one of them thoroughly waterproof, as a refuge in very bad weather, but it proved unnecessary, as even in the trial of long continued rain none of the other tents leaked. The horses and _impedimenta_ preceded us by a few days from Nowshera, and we were to overtake them at Rawul Pindee. My wife’s steed, called by her ‘Nila,’ was a gentle, well-bred, grey Cabul, full of spirit when required. The way it came into my possession was rather curious. During the time we were at Peshawur, the late General Haly was in command, and, among many other good qualities, he knew a horse right well. I have sometimes accompanied him into the town of Peshawur, where there were several horse-dealers. It was a risky thing going along the narrow streets of that town, filled as they were with wild-looking Afghans and Affriedees armed to the teeth; but we never were insulted. A dealer told General Haly that he had a horse, and invited him to see it. This visit ended in my buying the nag for a very small sum. Next day the dealer came to my bungalow accompanied by a young Afghan, who was leading the horse. This young man placed the rope holding the steed in my hand. He put his arms round the animal’s neck, kissed it on the forehead, burst into tears, and then disappeared. Of course we asked an explanation of this scene, and were informed by the dealer that the young Afghan had come to Peshawur and lost all his money (most probably to the dealer). He had nothing left but his horse, and so he sold it, ‘and your royal highness has got a bargain,’ said the dealer, finishing his story, a conclusion which meant a demand for backsheesh. And Nila was a right good nag. My pony, called Silver Tail, was the most active, savage little brute I ever saw. He could walk very fast, and scrambled over rocks in a wonderful manner.