cultivated with rice. This plain, throughout its whole extent, is most copiously provided with water, gurgling from innumerable springs, at the line where the eminences to the left blend with it. At Bassowal we found an enclosed village, and two or three agricultural castles. We were hospitably entertained at the village, and the people brought a young female Albino that I might see her, jocosely remarking that she must be a Feringhí, and in the same mood recommending me to take her with me.

Opposite to Bassowal, which is close upon the river, very high steep hills confine the stream, and at their eastern extremity are a series of caves, with triangular entrances. The spot is called Chakanúr, and there are besides many other vestiges of antiquity there. Bassowal appears to occupy an ancient site, and has some venerable tamarisk trees, the remains of its antique groves. The same kind of memorials also distinguish the vicinage of Ghirdí. Between Bassowal and Már Koh (the snake hill), which occurs about three miles west of it, the soil is strewed with fragments of potters ware, and similar indications are seen all round the southern termination of the hill, even so far as Báttí Kot, a distance perhaps of five miles.

We left Bassowal in the evening, but instead of following the high road which passes by Báttí Kot, and thence by Súrkh Dewâl to Alí Bâghân and Jelálabád; we took a pleasanter and possibly a shorter one, tracing chiefly the river bank. Beyond Bassowal, we crossed a marsh full of reeds, and then by a short and open passage through the hill Már Koh, we arrived at Ambhár Khána, a small village on the river. Hence, we traversed the plain of Chahár Déh (the four villages), for four or five miles, and again approached hills, which like Már Koh, close upon the river. Opposite to Chahár Déh, across the stream, is the small and bare looking district of Goshter, into which the Karapa road from Pesháwer conducts. A few naked castles are sprinkled over the plain ascending to the hills, and there resides Fattúlah Khán Momand, a chief of less consequence than Sádat Khán of Lâlpúra, and less respected. South of the plain of Chahár Déh is the village of Battí Kot, famed for the zíárat of A'khúnd Músa, in virtue of whose holy benediction, the snakes numerously found on Már Koh, which derives its name from the circumstance, are believed to have been rendered harmless. I might have noticed that at Ghirdí is a celebrated zíárat of a saint, who was as much in his element when in the water as a fish, for it is credited that he would dive into the river at Ghirdí and re-appear at Atak.

The path from Chahár Déh winds around the hills, overlooking the fine stream. Practicable to footmen, it is difficultly so to horse

At one spot,

men, who in some places are compelled to dismount. there is a Súrâkh, or aperture, for some distance through the rock, whence the whole of the hills are often called Koh Sang Súrâkh (the hill of the perforated rock), and the same name is applied to the path. We came opposite to another of those monuments called Topes, seated on an eminence. It was very picturesque, and the scenery was so agreable, that my Patán companion asked me if there were any spots so charming in my country. A little beyond or north of this Tope, a branch from the hills bounding Goshter terminates in a point, which from the white colour of the rock is called Saféd Bíní (the white nose, that is projection.) The hill itself yields steatite, to which its colour is due. About a mile hence we came to a village called Ghir lí Kach, located pleasantly in a small amphitheatrical recess of the hills, which in the neighbourhood produce asbestus. We passed the night here in a masjid. The people supplied us with food, but did not seem to be well pleased that I was not a Mússúlmân.

The next morning we continued our route, still leading along the river bank. On the opposite side was the district of Kámeh, which had commenced from Safed Bíní. It is abundantly garnished with castles, villages and gardens, and has a good deal of cultivation. It is much more extensive than Goshter, and to the west is described by the river of Khonar and Chitrâl, called here the Kámeh, which divides it from Bísút. Clearing at length the hills named indifferently Koh Sang Súrâkh, or Koh Alí Bâghân, we reached the village of the latter name, seated on rising ground, and about a mile from the river. Here we halted during midday in a tamarisk grove, where some weavers of lúnghís were engaged in their business. At this village, called also Sammah Khél, is a shrine, to which lunatics are brought, it being believed that in virtue of the benediction of the saint interred here, they recover their reason.

In the evening we started, intending to reach Jelálabád some eight or nine miles distant. We choose a path, between the high road and the course of the river, which led through a low tract overspread with marshes full of flags, and with pasture land. We had passed the point, where the Káneh river falls into the river of Jelálabád, and had the district of Bísút on the opposite side of the river, when reaching a small village, Júí Shâhí, (the Royal canal), we were invited by a party sitting under the shade of some trees to rest awhile. The chief man proved to be Khalil Khán, a Baiyát, and farmer of the customs of Jelálabád under the Nawâb Mahomed Zemán Khán. He told me that he lived in Bísút, aud was so urgent

that I should spend two or three days with him that I consented. In the evening we were ferried across the stream in a boat, and I found the Khan's castle, a very neat and commodious one, seated amid the most luxuriant fields of sugar cane and lucerne, and with good gardens and fine groves of trees attached. In the immediate neighbourhood were many other handsome castles, and the country around seemed quite a garden. The heat was the only drawback, which although oppressive did not appear to produce sickness, nor did it absolutely prevent a person from moving about freely during the day. Khalíl Khán and his family were most kind and civil. In the day time they would sit with me under the shade of the mulberry trees, and in the evening, the youths of the contiguous hamlets would exhibit their rural sports and games, which were manly enough, but rough withal. I wished to make enquiries about the Síáposh Káfrs, and various people, Hindú and Mahomedan, were brought, who pretended to have some knowledge of them. I heard their wonderful and incongruous accounts, but benefited little by what I heard.

I had remained two or three days at Khalil Khán's castle, when a messenger from Abdúl Ganní Khán, one of his neighbours, came and entreated that I would step over to his castle. I did so, and found that the Khán's object was to procure my advice for his young son, who had recently become deaf. I explained that I knew nothing of diseases, but was scarcely credited. They much wished to put something into the ears, and protesting that I did not dare to interfere with so tender an organ, I besought them to emply no violent remedies. The mother of Abdúl Ganní Khán, a most respectable Dúrání lady, gave me an interview. She was unveiled, and held an ivory mounted cane in her hand. She expressed much solicitude that her grandson should recover his hearing. I suggested that benefit might arise from warmth, and protecting the parts from air, but I suspect it was little conceited that remedies so simple could be of use. At this meeting I was regaled with a profusion of grapes and melons, and I was not allowed to return to Khalil Khán's castle for a day or two, being detained as a guest. Abdúl Ganní Khán who was a Bárak Zai, and relative of the ruling Sirdárs in Afghánistàn, had a handsome seignorial castle, with all necessary appurtenances, as became a man of his rank and condition.

My friend Khalil Khan was a violent politician, and indulged frequently in severe diatribes against the Nawáb Mahomed Zemán Khán, whom he represented as an incapable ruler, and as little better than an old woman. Abdul Ganní Khán had also while I resided

with him an opportunity of displaying his political bias, and I was surprised to discover, that within three miles of Jelálabád, he was not only inimical to the Nawáb, whose relative he was, and whose subject I should have considered him to be, but that he was in the interest of the Pesháwer Sirdárs. I have in other places mentioned the coalition of the Sirdárs of Pesháwer and Kándahár with the object of humbling Dost Mahomed Khán, and that the Pesháwer army was to move upon Jelálabàd. Sufficient reasons had prevented its march, but the idea was not abandoned. Now it seemed the Kándahár army had moved, or was about to move upon Ghazni and Kábal. Dost Mahomed Khan had summonsed Mahomed Zemán Khán to attend him. His absence leaving the Jelálabád province bare of troops, the Nawab Jabár Khán, governor of the Ghiljís between Kàbal and Jelálabád, was appointed to protect it from invasion on the side of Peshawer, and tidings were at this time brought to Abdul Ganní Khán, that he had arrived with his troops at Jelálabád. The Khán immediately ordered the ferry boats to be secured, avowing that he would not allow Jabár Khán's soldiery to cross the river, and pillage his raiyats. Some persons asked the Khán, whether he was not acting precipitately, and he replied that the Pesháwer army would arrive in a day or two, strong in cavalry and guns, and that there was nothing to fear. He then went into the country to concert measures, and I found that he had two other brothers in Bísút, holding their jaghírs under the Nawáb, but no more friendly to him than was Abdul Ganni Khán.

While the latter was absent, I returned to Khalíl Khán, but could not cross the river, as a guard was stationed over the ferry boats. I was not then aware that by passing higher up on the same side of the stream, there were other ferries beyond the Bísùt district. After a farther stay with Khalíl Khán, he having himself business which required him to cross the river, it was arranged to make a jála or float of inflated skins, and on it we passed. I took farewell of the friendly Khán, who strove to induce me to accept clothes, money and horses, but I forbore to trespass on his bounty. I was sorry to have learned during my abode with him, that his affairs were embarassed; and that his anger with Mahomed Zemán Khán was principally owing to the latter being apt to require, as Khalíl Khán thought unreasonably, an adjustment of his long unsettled accounts.

We soon reached Jelálabád, which we entered by the eastern gate, after having passed the decayed yet very obvious ramparts of two former towns, whose site is now occupied by the present town, the smallest of the three. Enclosed within mud walls, it has but an indiffer

ent appearance, yet its bazár now exhibited much activity, being filled with the soldiery of the Nawáb Jabár Khán.

I was no sooner recognized to be a Feringhí, then many hastened to inform the Nawab of my arrival, that popular chief being notorious for his good feelings towards Europeans. In a short time his people were with me, requesting me to wait upon him. I was not then particularly acquainted with his history, but had heard it frequently remarked at Pesháwer, that there, Sáltán Mahomed Khán was the Feringhí's friend, and at Kábal, the Nawab Jabár Khán. I was not in the best trim to appear before the good Nawáb, or before any other person, yet I had discovered that Afgháns are not particular as to trifles, and that I was just as well received in rags, as I should have been, had I been more sumptuously arrayed.

I therefore accompanied his emissaries to a garden house without the town, where the chief had established his quarters. He was in the upper apartments, which were choked up with his subordinate officers, attendants, and soldiery. He saluted me civilly, and said that I must stay with him, to which I replied, no, and that I intended to go on. He then observed that I must stay two or three days with him, and I again replied, no, on which he said that I must at least spend the day with him, to which I answered I had no objection. The people about wondered how I had got through Khaibar, and the Nawab remarked for me, that I had nothing to lose. He informed me that he would provide a man to conduct me in safety to Kábal, to which I did not object, and thanked him. He then inquired if I needed any thing, and I replied negatively. The Nawáb directed that I should be taken all care of, and I took my leave of him. I was now conducted to a house, which I was told to consider mine as long as I pleased to occupy it, and to give myself no anxiety about any thing, as all my wants would be attended to by the Nawab's orders.

I was soon visited by two singular characters, the one a Molaví from Lahore, the other a Bráhman from Laknow. They stated that they had each set out on a tour for some years, and accidentally meeting, had become companions. Chance had brought them into contact with the Nawáb, and they were now sojourners with him. They much praised his good qualities. In manners and conversation, they were extremely refined and intelligent, and had mirth and spirituality, which I had never before witnessed in a Mahomedan or Hindú. They seemed independent in circumstances, and their apparel, equipage, &c. all bore the marks of affluence. Both made me offers of clothing, money, &c. and apparently with sincerity. I had indeed some difficulty to decline a horse, which was urged upon me by the Mola