{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_32231/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_32231","id":"gutenberg_32231","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/32231","summary":null,"tags":["Afghanistan -- Social life and customs","Afghans","Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: History - Other","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (Pakistan) -- Social life and customs","Missions -- Asia, Central","Missions, Medical -- Pakistan -- North-West Frontier Province","Pennell, T. L. (Theodore Leighton), 1867-1912","Punjab (India) -- Social life and customs","Pushtuns"],"text":"Produced by Steven Gibbs, Jeroen Hellingman and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net/\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n              Among the Wild Tribes of the Afghan Frontier\n\n              A Record of Sixteen Years' Close Intercourse\n                 with the Natives of the Indian Marches\n\n\n                                   By\n\n                  T. L. Pennell, M.D., B.Sc., F.R.C.S.\n\n                        With an introduction by\n\n                 Field-Marshal Earl Roberts, V.C., K.G.\n\n                   And with 37 Illustrations & 2 Maps\n\n\n\n                             Second Edition\n\n                                 London\n                          Seeley & Co. Limited\n                        38 Great Russell Street\n                                  1909\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                   TO\n                               MY MOTHER,\n                                 TO THE\n                 INSPIRATION OF WHOSE LIFE AND TEACHING\n                            I OWE MORE THAN\n                        I CAN REALIZE OR RECORD\n\n\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThis book is a valuable record of sixteen years' good work by an\nofficer--a medical missionary--in charge of a medical mission station\nat Bannu, on the North-West Frontier of India.\n\nAlthough many accounts have been written descriptive of the wild\ntribes on this border, there was still plenty of room for Dr. Pennell's\nmodestly-related narrative. Previous writers--e.g., Paget and Mason,\nHoldich, Oliver, Warburton, Elsmie, and many others--have dealt\nwith the expeditions that have taken place from time to time against\nthe turbulent occupants of the trans-Indus mountains, and with the\nmilitary problems and possibilities of the difficult regions which\nthey inhabit. But Dr. Pennell's story is not concerned with the clash\nof arms. His mission has been to preach, to heal, and to save; and\nin his long and intimate intercourse with the tribesmen, as recounted\nin these pages, he throws many new and interesting sidelights on the\ndomestic and social, as well as on the moral and religious, aspects\nof their lives and characters.\n\nDuring a long career in India I myself have seen and heard a good\ndeal about these medical missions, and I can testify to their doing\nexcellent and useful work, and that they are valuable and humanizing\nfactors and moral aids well worthy of all encouragement and support.\n\nNo one can read Dr. Pennell's experiences without feeling that the\nman who is a physician and able to heal the body, in addition to\nbeing a preacher who can \"minister to a mind diseased\" as well as to\nspiritual needs, wields an influence which is not possessed by him\nwho is a missionary only.\n\nAs the author himself writes: \"The doctor finds his sphere\neverywhere, and his hands are full of work as soon as he arrives\n(at his station). He is able to overcome suspicion and prejudice,\nand his kindly aid and sympathetic treatment disarm opposition,\nwhile his life is a better setting forth of Christianity than his\nwords. There is a door everywhere which can be opened by love and\nsympathy and practical service, and no one is more in a position to\nhave a key for every door than a doctor.\"\n\nThese few words fairly sum up the situation, and I fully agree with\nthe view they express.\n\nOn such a wild frontier as that on the North-West Border of India the\nlife of a doctor-missionary is beset with many perils. A perusal of\nDr. Pennell's most interesting story shows that he has had his share\nof them, and that in the earnest and zealous discharge of his duties\nhe has faced them bravely and cheerfully. I cordially recommend his\nbook to all readers, and my earnest hope is that medical missions\nwill continue to flourish.\n\n\n    ROBERTS, F.M.\n\n        December 19, 1908.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nAfter sixteen years of close contact with the Afghans and Pathans\nof our North-West Frontier in India, I was asked to commit some\nof my experiences to paper. The present book is the result. I have\nused the Government system of transliteration in vernacular names\nand expressions, and I beg the reader to bestow a few minutes'\nconsideration on the table of corresponding sounds and letters given\non p. xvi, as it is painful to hear the way in which Englishmen,\nwho, with their wide imperial interests, should be better informed,\nmispronounce common Indian words and names of places which are in\nconstant use nowadays in England as much as abroad.\n\nNothing is recorded which has not been enacted in my own experience\nor in that of some trustworthy friend. In Chapters XIII. and XIV. it\nwould have been unwise to give the actual names, so I have put the\nexperience of several such cases together into one connected story,\nwhich, while concealing the identity of the actors, may also make the\nnarrative more interesting to the reader; every fact recorded, however,\nhappened under my own eyes. In Chapter XXII., the night adventure of\nChikki, when he met an English officer in disguise, was related by\nhim to me of another member of his profession, and not of himself.\n\nI wish to thank the Church Missionary Society for allowing me\nto reproduce some articles which have already appeared in their\npublications, notably Chapter XX. and part of Chapter IV. I tender\nmy best thanks to Major Wilkinson, I.M.S., Major Watson, H. Bolton,\nEsq., I.C.S., and Colonel S. Baker, for some of the photographs which\nhave been here reproduced; and to Dr. J. Cropper for his kindness in\nreading the proofs.\n\nWe are at present engaged in building a branch dispensary at Thal,\na place on the extreme border mentioned several times in the text,\nwhere the medical mission will have a profound influence on the\ntrans-border tribes, as well as on those in British India. This will\nbe known as the \"Lord Roberts Hospital,\" as that place was at one\ntime of the 1879-80 campaign the headquarters of his column.\n\nThe Author's profits on the sale of this book will be entirely\ndevoted to the building of the hospital, and carrying on of the\nmedical mission work at Thal.\n\n\n    T. L. PENNELL.\n\n    P. and O. s.s. \"China,\"\n        Gulf of Suez,\n            September 24, 1908.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nChapter I\n\nThe Afghan Character\n\nPages\n\nParadoxical--Ideas of honour--Blood-feuds--A sister's revenge--The\nstory of an outlaw--Taken by assault--A jirgah and its unexpected\ntermination--Bluff--An attempt at kidnapping--Hospitality--A midnight\nmeal--An ungrateful patient--A robber's death--An Afghan dance--A\nvillage warfare--An officer's escape--Cousins                     17-30\n\nChapter II\n\nAfghan Traditions\n\nIsraelitish origin of the Afghans--Jewish practices--Shepherd\ntradition of the Wazirs--Afridis and their saint--The zyarat, or\nshrine--Graveyards--Custom of burial--Graves of holy men--Charms and\namulets--The medical practice of a faqir--Native remedies--First aid\nto the wounded--Purges and blood-letting--Tooth extraction--Smallpox\n                                                                  31-43\n\nChapter III\n\nBorder Warriors\n\nPeiwar Kotal--The Kurram Valley--The Bannu Oasis--Independent\ntribes--The Durand line--The indispensable Hindu--A lawsuit and its\nsequel--A Hindu outwits a Muhammadan--The scope of the missionary\n                                                                  44-53\n\nChapter IV\n\nA Frontier Valley\n\nDescription of the Kurram Valley--Shiahs and Sunnis--Favourable\nreception of Christianity--Independent areas--A candid\nreply--Proverbial disunion of the Afghans--The two policies--Sir\nRobert Sandeman--Lord Curzon creates the North-West Frontier\nProvince--Frontier wars--The vicious circle--Two flaws the natives\nsee in British rule: the usurer, delayed justice--Personal influence\n                                                                  54-67\n\nChapter V\n\nThe Christian's Revenge\n\nPolice posts versus dispensaries--The poisoning scare--A native\ndoctor's influence--Wazir marauders spare the mission hospital--A\nterrible revenge--The Conolly bed--A political mission--A treacherous\nKing--Imprisonment in Bukhara--The Prayer-Book--Martyrdom--The\nsequel--Influence of the mission hospital--The medical missionary's\npassport                                                          68-77\n\nChapter VI\n\nA Day in the Wards\n\nThe truce of suffering--A patient's request--Typical cases--A\npainful journey--The biter bit--The condition of amputation--\"I am\na better shot than he is\"--The son's life or revenge--The hunter's\nadventure--A nephew's devotion--A miserly patient--An enemy converted\ninto a friend--The doctor's welcome                               78-88\n\nChapter VII\n\nFrom Morning to Night\n\nFirst duties--Calls for the doctor--Some of the\nout-patients--Importunate blind--School classes--Operation\ncases--Untimely visitors--Recreation--Cases to decide             89-97\n\nChapter VIII\n\nThe Itinerant Missionary\n\nThe medical missionary's advantage--How to know the people--The\nreal India--God's guest-house--The reception of the guest--Oriental\ncustoms--Pitfalls for the unwary--The Mullah and the Padre--Afghan\nlogic--A patient's welcome--The Mullah conciliated--A rough\njourney--Among thieves--A swimming adventure--Friends or enemies?\n--Work in camp--Rest at last                                     98-113\n\nChapter IX\n\nAfghan Mullahs\n\nNo priesthood in Islam--Yet the Mullahs ubiquitous--Their great\ninfluence--Theological refinements--The power of a charm--Bazaar\ndisputations--A friend in need--A frontier Pope--In a Militia post--A\nlong ride--A local Canterbury--An enemy becomes a friend--The ghazi\nfanatic--An outrage on an English officer                       114-125\n\nChapter X\n\nA Tale of a Talib\n\nEarly days--The theological curriculum--Visit to Bannu--A public\ndiscussion--New ideas--The forbearance of a native Christian--First\nacquaintance with Christians--First confession--A lost love--A stern\nchase--The lost sheep recovered--Bringing his teacher--The Mullah\nconverted--Excommunication--Faithful unto death--Fresh temptations--A\nvain search--A night quest--The Mullahs circumvented--Dark days--Hope\never                                                            126-139\n\nChapter XI\n\nSchool-Work\n\nDifferent views of educational work--The changed attitude of the\nMullahs--His Majesty the Amir and education--Dangers of secular\neducation--The mission hostel--India emphatically religious--Indian\nschoolboys contrasted with English schoolboys--School and\nmarriage--Advantage of personal contact--Uses of a swimming-tank--An\nunpromising scholar--Unwelcome discipline--A ward of court--Morning\nprayers--An Afghan University--A cricket-match--An exciting\nfinish--A sad sequel--An officer's funeral--A contrast--Just in\ntime                                                            140-152\n\nChapter XII\n\nAn Afghan Football Team\n\nNative sport--Tent-pegging--A novel game--A football tournament--A\nvictory for Bannu--Increasing popularity of English games--A tour\nthrough India--Football under difficulties--Welcome at Hyderabad--An\nunexpected defeat--Matches at Bombay and Karachi--Riots in Calcutta--An\nunprovoked assault--The Calcutta police-court--Reparation--Home\nagain                                                           153-167\n\nChapter XIII\n\n'Alam Gul's Choice\n\nA farmer and his two sons--Learning the Quran--A village school--At\nwork and at play--The visit of the Inspector--Pros and cons of\nthe mission school from a native standpoint--Admission to Bannu\nSchool--New associations--In danger of losing heaven--First night in\nthe boarding-house--A boy's dilemma                             168-178\n\nChapter XIV\n\n'Alam Gul's Choice (continued)\n\nThe cricket captain--A conscientious schoolboy--The Scripture\nlesson--First awakenings--The Mullah's wrath--The crisis--Standing\nfire--Schoolboy justice--\"Blessed are ye when men shall persecute\nyou for My Name's sake\"--Escape from poisoning--Escape from\nhome--Baptism--Disinherited--New friends                        179-189\n\nChapter XV\n\nAfghan Women\n\nTheir inferior position--Hard labour--On the march--Suffering\nin silence--A heartless husband--Buying a wife--Punishment for\nimmorality--Patching up an injured wife--A streaky nose--Evils of\ndivorce--A domestic tragedy--Ignorance and superstition--\"Beautiful\nPearl\"--A tragic case--A crying need--Lady doctors--The mother's\ninfluence                                                       190-201\n\nChapter XVI\n\nThe Story of a Convert\n\nA trans-frontier merchant--Left an orphan--Takes service--First\ncontact with Christians--Interest aroused in an unexpected\nway--Assaulted--Baptism--A dangerous journey--Taken for a spy--A\nmother's love--Falls among thieves--Choosing a wife--An Afghan becomes\na foreign missionary--A responsible post--Saved by a grateful patient\n                                                                202-210\n\nChapter XVII\n\nThe Hindu Ascetics\n\nThe Hindu Sadhus more than two thousand years ago much as\nto-day--Muhammadan faqirs much more recent--The Indian ideal--This\npresents a difficulty to the missionary--Becoming a Sadhu--An\nAfghan disciple--Initiation and equipment--Hardwar the Holy--A\nreligious settlement--Natural beauties of the locality--Only man\nis vile--Individualism versus altruism--The Water God--Wanton\nmonkeys--Tendency to make anything unusual an object of worship--A\nBrahman fellow-traveller--A night in a temple--Waking the gods--A\nHindu sacrament--A religious Bedlam--A ward for imbeciles--Religious\ndelusions--\"All humbugs\"--Yogis and hypnotism--Voluntary maniacs--The\ndaily meal--Feeding, flesh, fish, and food                      211-226\n\nChapter XVIII\n\nSadhus and Faqirs\n\nBuried gold--Power of sympathy--A neglected field--A Sadhu converted\nto Christianity--His experiences--Causes of the development of the\nascetic idea in India--More unworthy motives common at the present\ntime--The Prime Minister of a State becomes a recluse--A cavalry\nofficer Sadhu--Dedicated from birth--Experiences of a young Sadhu--An\nunpleasant bedfellow--Honest toil--Orders of Muhammadan ascetics--Their\ncharacteristics--A faqir's curse--Women and faqirs--Muhammadan faqirs\nusually unorthodox--Sufistic tendencies--Habits of inebriation--The\nsanctity and powers of a faqir's grave                          227-240\n\nChapter XIX\n\nMy Life as a Mendicant\n\nDependent on the charitable--An incident on the bridge over the Jhelum\nRiver--A rebuff on the feast-day--An Indian railway-station--A\nchurlish Muhammadan--Helped by a soldier--A partner in the\nconcern--A friendly native Christian--The prophet of Qadian--A\nnew Muhammadan development--Crossing the Beas River--Reception\nin a Sikh village--Recognized by His Majesty Yakub Khan, late\nAmir--Allahabad--Encounter with a Brahman at Bombay--Landing\nat Karachi--Value of native dress--Relation to natives--Need\nof sympathy--The effect of clothes--Disabilities in railway\ntravelling--English manners--Reception of visitors              241-256\n\nChapter XX\n\nA Frontier Episode\n\nA merchant caravan in the Tochi Pass--Manak Khan--A sudden\nonslaught--First aid--Native remedies--A desperate case--A last\nresort--The Feringi doctor--Setting out on the journey--Arrival\nat Bannu--Refuses amputation--Returns to Afghanistan--His wife and\nchildren frightened away                                        257-266\n\nChapter XXI\n\nFrontier Campaigning\n\nThe Pathan warrior--A Christian native officer--A secret\nmission--A victim of treachery--A soldier convert--Influence\nof a Christian officer--Crude ideas and strange motives of\nPathan soldiers--Camaraderie in frontier regiments--Example\nof sympathy between students of different religions in mission\nschool--A famous Sikh regiment--Sikh soldiers and religion--Fort\nLockhart--Saraghari--The last man--A rifle thief--Caught red-handed\n                                                                267-276\n\nChapter XXII\n\nChikki, The Freebooter\n\nThe mountains of Tirah--Work as a miller's labourer--Joins\nfortune with a thief--A night raid--The value of a disguise--The\nthief caught--The cattle \"lifter\"--Murder by proxy--The price\nof blood--Tribal factions--Becomes chieftain of the tribe--The\nzenith of power--Characteristics--Precautionary measures--Journey to\nChinarak--A remarkable fort--A curious congregation--Punctiliousness\nin prayers--Changed attitude--Refrained from hostilities--Meets his\ndeath                                                           277-286\n\nChapter XXIII\n\nRough Diamonds\n\nA novel inquirer--Attends the bazaar preaching--Attacked\nby his countrymen--In the police-station--Before the\nEnglish magistrate--Declares he is a Christian--Arrival\nof his mother--Tied up in his village--Escape--Takes\nrefuge in the hills--A murder case--Circumstantial\nevidence--Condemned--A last struggle for liberty--Qazi Abdul\nKarim--His origin--Eccentricities--Enthusiasm--Crosses the\nfrontier--Captured--Confesses his faith--Torture--Martyrdom\n                                                                287-295\n\nChapter XXIV\n\nDeductions\n\nNumber of converts not a reliable estimate of mission work--Spurious\nconverts versus indigenous Christianity--Latitude should be allowed\nto the Indian Church--We should introduce Christ to India rather\nthan Occidental Christianity--Christianizing sects among Hindus and\nMuhammadans--Missionary work not restricted to missionaries--Influence\nof the best of Hindu and Muhammadan thought should be welcomed--The\nconversion of the nation requires our attention more than that\nof the individual--Christian Friars adapted to modern missions--A\ntrue representation of Christ to India--Misconceptions that must be\nremoved                                                         296-304\n\nChapter XXV\n\nA Forward Policy\n\nFrontier medical missions--Their value as outposts--Ancient\nChristianity in Central Asia--Kafiristan: a lost opportunity of the\nChristian Church--Forcible conversion to Islam--Fields for missionary\nenterprise beyond the North-West Frontier--The first missionaries\nshould be medical men--An example of the power of a medical mission\nto overcome opposition--The need for branch dispensaries--Scheme of\nadvance--Needs                                                  305-312\n\nGlossary                                                        314-318\n\nIndex                                                           319-324\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n    Dr. Pennell Travelling as a Sadhu                      Frontispiece\n    A Khattak Sword-Dancer                                           28\n    A Zyarat or Shrine on the Takht-i-Suliman                        34\n    A Group of Lepers at a Zyarat or Shrine in Hazara                36\n    The Khaiber Pass. A Village in the Pass                          46\n    A Cavalry Shutur-sowar, or Camel-rider                           46\n    Types of Frontier Tribesmen                                      50\n    Bannu Villagers                                                  56\n    The Khaiber Pass. Khaiber Rifle Sepoy on the Watch               62\n    The Result of a Blood-Feud                                       82\n    A Transborder Afghan bringing his Family to the Hospital         82\n    Bannu Mission. A Group of Patients                               94\n    A Group of Out-patients at the Mission Hospital                  94\n    Travelling by Riding Camel                                      100\n    Itineration by Means of Ekkas and Mules                         100\n    Ferrying across the River Indus                                 112\n    Travelling down the Indus on a \"Kik\"                            112\n    Mahsud Labourers at Work in Bannu Cantonment                    148\n    Bannu Mission. A Group of Students                              148\n    A Football Match at Bannu                                       154\n    The Bannu Football Team                                         154\n    The Chief Bazaar, Peshawur City                                 156\n    The Bazaar in Peshawur City                                     156\n    The Indus in Flood-time                                         158\n    A Ferryboat for the Mail on the Indus River                     158\n    A Modern \"Black Hole\"                                           164\n    Boy and Girl grazing Buffaloes                                  170\n    Women carrying Waterpots                                        196\n    Women going for water at Shimvah                                198\n    Water-carrying at Shimvah                                       198\n    Near Shinkiari, Hazara District                                 208\n    A Muhammadan Faqir                                              212\n    Dr. Pennell                                                     244\n    Flour Mills near Shinkiari                                      278\n    Map of the North-West Frontier Province                         313\n    Map of the North-West Frontier of India                         318\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF THE CHIEF SOUNDS REPRESENTED IN THE\nGOVERNMENT SYSTEM OF TRANSLITERATION\n\n\n\n\n     a   =  short u, as in \"bun.\"\n     \u00e1   =  broad a, as in \"mast.\"\n     i   =  short i, as in \"bin.\"\n     \u00ed   =  ee, as in \"oblique.\"\n     e   =  a, as in \"male.\"\n     o   =  long o, as in \"note.\"\n     u   =  short oo, as in \"foot.\"\n     \u00fa   =  long oo, as in \"boot.\"\n     q   =  guttural k.\n     kh  =  ch, as in \"loch.\"\n     gh  =  guttural r, not used in English.\n     '   =  the Arabic letter 'ain, a guttural not used in English.\n\n\n\n\nPRONUNCIATION OF THE PRINCIPAL ORIENTAL WORDS USED IN THIS BOOK\n\n\n        Afgh\u00e1n           Jah\u00e1n            Niz\u00e1m\n        Afgh\u00e1nist\u00e1n      Jam\u00e1la           Panj\u00e1b\n        Afr\u00eddi           Jel\u00e1l\u00e1bad        Panj\u00e1bi\n        All\u00e1hu Akbar     Kab\u00edr            Path\u00e1n\n        Am\u00edr             K\u00e1bul            Patw\u00e1r\n        Badaksh\u00e1n        K\u00e1fir            Pesh\u00e1wur\n        Baltist\u00e1n        K\u00e1lab\u00e1gh         Qur\u00e1n\n        Beng\u00e1li          Kal\u00e1m            R\u00e1m\n        Bezw\u00e1da          Kar\u00e1chi          Ramaz\u00e1n\n        Bh\u00e1galpur        Kar\u00edm            Ris\u00e1ld\u00e1r\n        Bukh\u00e1ra          Khal\u00edfa          R\u00edsh\u00edkes\n        Chen\u00e1b           Khoras\u00e1n         S\u00e1dhu\n        Chil\u00e1s           Koh\u00e1t            Sany\u00e1si\n        Chin\u00e1rak         Laghm\u00e1ni         Sarag\u00e1ri\n        Chitr\u00e1l          Loh\u00e1ni           Sard\u00e1r\n        Deraj\u00e1t          Maj\u00edd            Sark\u00e1r\n        Dharms\u00e1la        M\u00e1lik            Subad\u00e1r\n        Ghul\u00e1m           Mirz\u00e1da          Sul\u00edman\n        H\u00e1kim (ruler)    Mugh\u00e1l           T\u00e1lib\n        Hak\u00edm (doctor)   Mult\u00e1n           Tam\u00e1na\n        Hardw\u00e1r          N\u00e1nak            Tir\u00e1h\n        Haz\u00e1ra           N\u00e1row\u00e1l          Wazirist\u00e1n\n        Isl\u00e1m            Nezab\u00e1zi\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAMONG THE WILD TRIBES OF THE AFGHAN FRONTIER\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE AFGHAN CHARACTER\n\n    Paradoxical--Ideas of honour--Blood-feuds--A sister's revenge--The\n    story of an outlaw--Taken by assault--A jirgah and its unexpected\n    termination--Bluff--An attempt at kidnapping--Hospitality--A\n    midnight meal--An ungrateful patient--A robber's death--An Afghan\n    dance--A village warfare--An officer's escape--Cousins.\n\n\nThe East is the country of contradictions, and the Afghan character is\na strange medley of contradictory qualities, in which courage blends\nwith stealth, the basest treachery with the most touching fidelity,\nintense religious fanaticism with an avarice which will even induce\nhim to play false to his faith, and a lavish hospitality with an\nirresistible propensity for thieving.\n\nThere are two words which are always on an Afghan's tongue--izzat\nand sharm. They denote the idea of honour viewed in its positive and\nnegative aspects, but what that honour consists in even an Afghan\nwould be puzzled to tell you. Sometimes he will consider that he\nhas vindicated his honour by a murder perpetrated with the foulest\ntreachery; at other times it receives an indelible stain if at some\npublic function he is given a seat below some rival chief.\n\nThe vendetta, or blood-feud, has eaten into the very core of Afghan\nlife, and the nation can never become healthily progressive till public\nopinion on the question of revenge alters. At present some of the best\nand noblest families in Afghanistan are on the verge of extermination\nthrough this wretched system. Even the women are not exempt. In 1905,\nat Bannu, there was a case where a man had been foully murdered over\nsome disputed land. It was generally known who the murderer was, but\nas he and his relations were powerful and likely to stick at nothing,\nand the murdered man had no near relation except one sister, no one\nwas willing to risk his own skin in giving evidence, so when the case\ncame up in court the Judge was powerless to convict.\n\n\"Am I to have no justice at the hands of the Sarkar?\" passionately\ncried the sister in her despair. \"Bring me witnesses, and I will\nconvict,\" was all the Judge could reply. \"Very well; I must find my own\nway;\" and the girl left the court to take no rest till her brother's\nblood, which was crying to her from the ground, should be avenged.\n\nShortly after this I was sitting in a classroom of the mission\nschool teaching the boys. It was a Friday morning, when thousands\nof the hillmen come in to the weekly fair, and the bazaars are\nfull of a shouting, jostling throng, the murmur of which reaches\neven the schoolroom. Suddenly a shot was heard, and then a confused\nshouting. Running out on to the street hard by, I found a Wazir, quite\ndead, shot through the heart. It was the murderer who had escaped the\njustice of the law, but not the hand of the avenger, for the sister\nhad concealed a revolver on her person, and coming up to her enemy in\nthe crowded bazaar, had shot him point-blank. She was arrested there\nand then, and the court condemned her to penal servitude for life. I\nmet her some weeks later as she was on the march with some other\nprisoners to their destination in the Andaman Islands. Resignation and\nsatisfaction were her dominant feelings. \"I have avenged my brother;\nfor the rest, it is God's will: I am content.\" Those were the words\nin which she answered my inquiries.\n\nThe officer who has most power with the Pathans is the one who,\nwhile transparently just, yet deals with them with a strong hand,\nwhose courage is beyond question, and who, when once his mind is made\nup, does not hesitate in the performance of his plans. To such a one\nthey are loyal to the backbone, and will go through fire and water\nin his train.\n\n\n                \"Tender-handed grasp a nettle,\n                  It will sting you for your pains;\n                Grasp it like a man of mettle,\n                  Soft as silk it then remains.\"\n\n\nThis has its counterpart in a Pashtu proverb, and is no doubt a true\ndelineation of the Afghan character.\n\nSome years ago some outlaws had fortified a village a few miles across\nthe border, and had there bidden defiance to the authorities while\ncarrying on their depredations among the frontier villages, where\nthey raided many a wealthy Hindu, and even carried off the rifles\nfrom the police posts. The leader of the gang was Sailgai. His father\nwas Mian Khan, a Wazir of the Sparkai clan. When still a boy Sailgai\nshowed great aptitude and skill in archery, and when about fifteen\nhe commenced rifle-shooting, and soon became a noted marksman. This,\nhowever, led him to associate with the desperadoes of the clan, and\nbefore long he became the leader of a gang which used to go out at\nnight-time to break into shops and into the houses of rich Hindus. When\nthis occupation began to pall on him he became a highway robber, and\nlay in wait with his confederates in various parts of the Kohat-Bannu\nroad to waylay and rob travellers both by day and night. The next\nstep onward--or downwards, we should say--was to become the leader\nof a gang of dacoits. These men would enter a village, usually in\nthe late evening, and hold up the inhabitants while they looted the\nhouses of the rich Hindus at leisure. On these occasions they often\ncut off the ears of the women as the simplest way of getting their\nearrings; and fingers, too, suffered in the same way if the owner did\nnot remove his rings quickly enough. At the same time Sailgai became\na professional murderer, and used to take two hundred to four hundred\nrupees for disposing of anyone obnoxious to the payer.\n\nStill, up to this time he had contrived to keep clear of the police,\nand had never been caught. If anyone informed against him he soon\ndiscovered who the informant was, and paid him a night visit, only\nleaving after he had either killed him or taken a rich ransom. Some\neight years ago he took two hundred rupees for killing a Bizun\nKhel Wazir, and went to his house one evening with fifteen of his\nfollowers. The Wazir, however, got a warning, and made a bold stand,\nand Sailgai had to fire seven times before he despatched him, and\nby that time the brother of the deceased had fetched some police and\nfollowed up in chase of Sailgai. When, however, the police saw that\nthey had a well-armed band to contend with, although about equal in\nnumber to the Wazirs, they beat a hasty retreat, with the exception\nof one man, who opened fire on the murderers at two hundred paces,\nbut was hit and disabled, so that Sailgai and his party got away in\nsafety. Government gave a reward to this, the one brave man, and put\na price on Sailgai's head, so that he could no longer enter British\nterritory except by stealth, and he retired to his fort at Gumatti,\nwhich he strengthened and made the base for marauding expeditions on\nGovernment territory.\n\nThese subsequently became so frequent and so successful that the\nIndian Government was finally constrained to send up a column under\nColonel Tonnochy, who was in command of the 53rd Sikhs at Bannu,\nto destroy his fort once for all. Before the guns opened fire the\nPolitical Officer, Mr. Donald, walked up alone to the loopholes of\nhis fort to offer Sailgai and his fellow-defenders terms. Knowing well\nthe long list of crimes that would be proved against him, he replied\nthat he had determined to sell his life as dearly as possible in the\nfort where he had been born and bred; and we must say, to his credit,\nthat they restrained their fire till Mr. Donald got back to his own\nlines. Colonel Tonnochy brought the guns up to within sixty yards\nof the fort, and while directing their operations he was mortally\nwounded. When the tower was finally taken by storm, all Sailgai's\ncompanions were dead, and he himself wounded in four places. He,\nhowever, with a last effort took aim at the British officer, Captain\nWhite, who was bravely leading the assault, and shot him dead, and was\nalmost at the same moment despatched by that officer's orderly. Wazirs\nfrom Gumatti, as well as from all the rest of the neighbourhood,\nare constantly coming to the mission dispensary, and some of them\nhave been in-patients. The police munshi who made the bold stand\nabove mentioned was himself treated for his wound in our hospital.\n\nThe Afghan has in some respects such inordinate vanity in connection\nwith his peculiar ideas of sharm, and is so hot-headed in resenting\nsome fancied insult, that he sometimes places himself in a ridiculous\nposition, from which he finds it difficult to extricate himself\nwithout still further sacrificing his honour.\n\nAn instance of this occurred in December, 1898. The mission school\nathletic sports were in progress in the mission compound, and the\npolitical officers of the Tochi and Wano were engaged not far off\nin a jirgah of the representatives of the Mahsud and Darwesh Khel\nsections of the Wazirs. Suddenly the cry was raised, \"The Wazirs have\nattacked us!\" and for a short time all was confusion. Wazirs were seen\nrushing pell-mell into school, bungalow, and other buildings, and a\ngreat part of the spectators who had gathered to see the sports fled\nin confusion. It transpired, however, that, so far from the Wazirs\ndesiring to do us any injury, they were the Mahsuds in flight from\nthe Darwesh Khels, who were hot in pursuit, chasing them even into the\nmission buildings where they had sought refuge. The council had been\nproceeding satisfactorily, and with apparently amicable relations on\nboth sides, when a Darwesh Khel malik, in the excitement of debate,\ngesticulated too close to the seat of the Political Officer. A Mahsud\norderly, thinking he was disrespectful to the officer, pushed him back\nwith needless force, so that the malik slipped and fell. The Darwesh\nKhels round him at once set on the orderly, saying he had done it of\nmalice prepense, and began to beat him. In another moment the whole\nassembly were frantically attacking each other; but the Mahsuds,\nbeing very decidedly in the minority, found safety in flight, and,\nour mission compound being the nearest rallying-place, had come down\nupon us in this unceremonious manner, with the Darwesh Khels in hot\npursuit. Fortunately, no serious injury resulted, and both parties\nwere soon laughing at their own foolish hot-headedness.\n\nBluff is a very prominent characteristic of the Afghan, and this makes\nhim appear more formidable than he really is to those who are not\nacquainted with his character. He is also a great bully and exults in\ncruelty, so that he becomes a veritable tyrant to those who have fallen\ninto his power or are overawed by his bluff. At the same time, he has\na profound reverence for the personification of power or brute force,\nand becomes a loyal and devoted follower of those whom he believes to\nbe his superiors. It is often asked of me whether I carry a revolver\nor other arms when travelling about among these wild tribes. For a\nmissionary to do so would not only be fatal to his chance of success,\nbut would be a serious and constant danger. It would be impossible\nfor him to be always on his guard; there must be times when, through\nfatigue or other reasons, he is at the mercy of those among whom he is\ndwelling. Besides this, there is nothing which an Afghan covets more,\nor to steal which he is more ready to risk his life, than firearms;\nand though he might not otherwise wish harm to the missionary, the\npossibility of securing a good revolver or gun would be too great a\ntemptation, even though he had to shed blood to secure it. My plan was,\ntherefore, to put myself entirely in their hands, and let them see\nthat I was trusting to their sense of honour and to their traditional\ntreatment of a guest for my safety.\n\nAt the same time, I was rather at pains than otherwise to let them\nsee that the bluff to which they sometimes resorted had no effect\nupon me, and that I was indifferent to their threats and warnings,\nwhich, as often as not, were just a ruse on their part to see how far\nthey could impose on me. Once, when I was in a trans-border village,\nresting a few hours in the heat of the day, some young bloods arrived\nwho had just come in from a raid, and were still in the excitement\nof bloodshed. Some of them thought it would be a good opportunity to\nbait the Daktar Sahib, and one of them, holding his loaded revolver\nto my chest, said: \"Now we are going to shoot you.\" I replied:\n\"You will be very great fools if you do, because I am of more use to\nyou than to myself, and you would as likely as not poison yourselves\nwith my drugs if I were not there to tell you how to use them.\" At\nthis the senior man of the party rebuked them, and offered me a kind\nof apology for their rudeness, saying: \"They are only young fellows,\nand they are excited. Do not mind what they say. We will see that no\nharm comes to you.\" On another occasion I came to a village across\nthe border rather late at night. There were numerous outlaws in the\nvillage, but the chief under whose protection I placed myself took the\nprecaution of putting my bed in the centre of six of his retainers,\nfully armed, in a circle round me, one or two of whom were to keep\nwatch in turns. I had had a hard day's work, and was soon sound asleep,\nand this was my safety, because I was told in the morning that some\nof the more fanatical spirits had wanted to kill me in the night,\nbut the others said: \"See, he has trusted himself entirely to our\nprotection, and because he trusts us he is sleeping so soundly;\ntherefore, no harm must be done to him in our village.\"\n\nNot long ago there was a notorious outlaw on the frontier called\nRangin, who had been making a practice of kidnapping rich Hindus,\nand then holding them to ransom. I was in the habit of visiting our\nout-station at Kharrak about once a month, and usually went alone\nand by night. Information was brought that Rangin, knowing of this,\nintended one day to kidnap me, and hold me to a high ransom. The next\ntime I visited Kharrak, I purposely slept by the roadside all night\nin a lonely part, that the people might see that I was not afraid of\nRangin's threats. Needless to say, no harm came of it; but the people\nthere in the countryside spread the idea that, as there was an angel\nprotecting the Daktar Sahib, it would be a useless act of folly to\ntry to do him an injury.\n\nAlthough the honour which an Afghan thinks is due to his guest has\noften stood me in good stead, yet sometimes the observance of the\ncorrect etiquette has become irksome. A rich chief will be satisfied\nwith nothing less than the slaying of a sheep when he receives\na guest of distinction; a poorer man will be satisfied with the\nslaying of a fowl, and the preparation therefrom of the native dish\ncalled pulao. On one occasion I came to a village with my companions\nrather late in the evening. The chief himself was away, but his son\nreceived me with every mark of respect, and killed a fowl and cooked\nus a savoury pulao, after which, wearied with the labours of the day,\nwe were soon fast asleep. Later on, it appeared, the chief himself\narrived, and learnt from his son of our arrival. \"Have you killed for\nhim the dumba?\" he at once asked; and, on learning from his son that\nhe had only prepared a fowl, he professed great annoyance, saying:\n\"This will be a lasting shame (sharm) for me, if it is known that,\nwhen the Bannu Daktar Sahib came to my village, I cooked for him\nnothing more than a fowl. Go at once to the flock, and take a dumba,\nand slay and dress it, and, when all is ready, call me.\" Thus it\ncame about that about 1 a.m. we were waked up to be told that the\nchief had come to salaam us, and that dinner was ready. It would not\nonly have been useless to protest that we were more in a mood for\nsleep than for dinner, but it would also have been an insult to his\nhospitality; so we got up with alacrity and the best grace possible,\nand after a performance of the usual salutations on both sides, we\nbuckled to that we might show our appreciation of the luscious feast\nof roast mutton and pulao that had been prepared for us.\n\nOn one occasion, in turning back to Bannu from a journey across\nthe frontier, I had an escort of two villainous-looking Afghans,\nwho appeared as though they would not hesitate at any crime,\nhowever atrocious. They, however, looked after us with the greatest\nattention, and brought us safely into Bannu. On arrival there, I\noffered them some money as a reward for their good conduct; they,\nhowever, refused it with some show of indignation, saying that to\ntake money from one who had been their guest would be contrary to\ntheir best traditions. Consequently, I sent them over to rest for the\nnight at the house of one of my native assistants, with a note to give\nthem a good dinner, and send them away early in the morning. He gave\nthem the dinner, but when he got up in the morning to see them off,\nhe found that they had already decamped with all his best clothes.\n\nAmong the Afghans theft is more or less praiseworthy, according to\nthe skill and daring shown in its perpetration, and to the success in\nthe subsequent evasion of pursuit. Two years ago an Afghan brought\nhis little daughter for an operation on her eye. The operation was\nsuccessfully performed, and the day of discharge came. Meanwhile\nthe eyes of the Afghan had lighted on my mare, and he thought how\nuseful it would be to him on his travels, and the night following\nhis discharge we found that he had come with a friend and taken the\nhorse away. Unfortunately for the success of the undertaking, he had\nan enemy, who, when a reward was offered for the discovery of the\nthief, thought he might enrich himself and pay off an old grudge\nat the same time. The culprit had, however, by this time arrived\nwith his capture safely across the Afghan frontier into Khost,\nand no laws of extradition apply there. Other members of the tribe,\nhowever, reside in British India, and would be going up with their\nfamilies into the hills as the heat of summer increased. The Deputy\nCommissioner called for the chiefs of the tribe, and informed them\nthat until they arranged for the return of the mare, he would be\nreluctantly compelled to issue orders that they were not to go up\nto the hills with their families. At first they protested that they\nhad no control over the thief, whom they had themselves turned out\nof their tribe because he was a rascal; but when they found that\nthe officer knew them too well to be hoodwinked by their bluff,\nthey found it convenient to send up into Khost and bring back the\nmare. The man through whose instrumentality it was brought back has\nposed to me ever since as my benefactor, and expected a variety of\nfavours in return. The theft was universally reprobated by the tribe,\nbut chiefly because circumstances had doomed it to failure.\n\nNotorious thieves and outlaws have frequently availed themselves of\nthe wards of the mission hospital when suffering from some fever\nor other disease which has temporarily incapacitated them; but,\nof course, they come under assumed names, and otherwise conceal\ntheir identity. It is to be hoped, however, that they benefit\nall the same from the addresses and good counsel which they daily\nhear while under treatment. Sometimes, as in the case I am about\nto relate, their identity becomes known. A few years ago, in Bed\n26--the \"Southsea\" bed--there was Zaman, a noted thief, who came in\nsuffering from chronic dysentery, and continued under treatment for\nover two months. He lingered on, with many ups and downs, but was\nevidently past recovery when he came in. He paid much attention to\nthe Gospel that was read to him, and sometimes professed belief in\nit, but showed no signs of repenting of his past career. But when\ntold eventually that there was no hope of his recovery, he at once\nhad a police officer summoned, so as to give him the names of some\nof his former \"pals,\" hoping thereby not only to get them caught and\npunished in revenge for their having thrown him off when too weak and\nill to join in their nefarious practices, but also to gain a reward\nfor the information given. He gradually sank and died, professing\na belief in Christ; but He alone, who readeth the heart, knoweth. I\ndo not think he would have turned informer had not his confederates\napparently deserted him in his distress.\n\nNo description of Afghan life would be complete which did not give\nan account of their public dances. These take place on the 'Id days,\nor to celebrate some tribal compact, or the cessation of hostilities\nbetween two tribes or sections. It can only be seen in its perfection\nacross the border, for in British India the more peaceful habits\nof the people and the want of the requisite firearms have caused\nit to fall into desuetude. Across the frontier some level piece of\nground is chosen, and a post is fixed in the centre. The men arrange\nthemselves in ever-widening circles round this centre and gyrate round\nit, ever keeping the centre on the left, so as to give greater play\nto their sword-arms. The older and less nimble of the warriors form\nthe inner circles; outside them come the young men, who dance round\nwith surprising agility, often with a gun in one hand and a sword in\nthe other, or, it may be, with a sword in each hand, which they wave\nalternately in circles round their heads. Outside them, again, circle\nthe horsemen, showing their agility in the saddle and their skill\nwith the sword or gun at the same time. On one side are the village\nminstrels, who give the tune on drums and pipes. They begin with a slow\nbeat, and one sees all the circles going round with a measured tread;\nthen the music becomes more and more rapid, and the dancers become\nmore and more carried away with excitement, and to the onlooker it\nappears a surging mass of waving swords and rifles. The rifles are\nas often as not loaded and discharged from time to time, at which the\ngyrations of the horsemen on the outside become more and more excited,\nand one wonders that heads and arms are not gashed by the swords which\nare seen waving everywhere. Suddenly the music ceases, and all stop to\nregain their breath, to start again after a few minutes, until they\nare tired out. The excitement and the intricate revolutions often\nbring the scene to the brink of a real warfare, and not infrequently\nit ends in bloodshed. In one instance, where a man fell, and in\nfalling discharged his rifle with fatal effect into another dancer,\nthe unintentional murderer would have had his throat cut there and\nthen had not his friends hurriedly dragged him out and carried him\noff to his home, fighting as they went. In this way blood-feuds are\nsometimes started, which will divide a village into two factions,\nand not end till some of the bravest have fallen victims to it.\n\nOn one occasion I was seated with some Afghans in a house in the\nvillage of Peiwar in the Kurram Valley. Most of the houses were on\neither side of one long street running the length of the village,\nand I noticed that some little doors had been made from house to house\nall down the street, and on inquiring the object of this, I was told\nthat some time before a great faction fight had been carried on in the\nvillage. One side of the street was in one faction and the other side\nin the other faction, and they were always in ambush to fire at each\nother across the street. The only way to get to the village supply of\nwater was to go from house to house down to the bottom of the street,\nand in order to do this without exposure, doors had been made, while\nby common consent they had agreed not to shoot while getting their\nsupplies from the stream at the bottom. My host went on to show me\nsundry holes in his door and in the wooden panels of the windows,\nwhich the bullets of his neighbours across the street had penetrated,\nand said: \"It was behind that hole in the door there that my uncle\nwas shot; that hole in the window was made by the bullet which killed\nmy brother.\" Pointing to another Afghan who had come into the room\nand seated himself on the bed, he said: \"That is the man who shot my\nbrother.\" On my remarking upon the peace and goodwill in which they\nappeared to be living at the present time, he said: \"Yes, we are good\nfriends now, because the debt is even on both sides. I have killed\nthe same number in his family.\" After a faction fight of this kind,\nthe fatalities on both sides are added up, and if they can be found to\nbe equal, both sides feel that they can make peace without sacrificing\ntheir izzat (honour), and amicable relations are resumed, it being\nthought unnecessary to investigate who were the real instigators or\nmurderers. If, however, one side or the other believes itself to\nbe still aggrieved, or not to have exacted the full tale of lives\nrequired by the law of revenge, then the feud may go on indefinitely,\nuntil whole families may become nearly exterminated. The avenger will\ngo on waiting his opportunity for months or years, but he will never\nforget; and one will always remember the hunted look and the furtive\nexpression and nervous handling of the revolver and cartridges which\nmark the man who knows that one or more such avenger is on his track.\n\nA Political Officer in the Kurram Valley was once visiting a chief\nof the village of Shlozan, who, like all chiefs, had a high tower,\nin which he would seek security from his enemies at night. His host\ntook him up into the tower, after carefully seeing that a window\nin the upper story was shut. The officer, thinking he would like\na view of the country round, went to open it, but was hurriedly\nand unceremoniously pulled back by the chief, who told him that\nhis cousin had been watching that window for months in the hope of\nhaving an opportunity of shooting him there. The officer made no\nfurther attempt to look out of the window, but some months later he\nheard that his friend the chief, having inadvertently gone to the\nopen window, had been shot there by his cousin. So universal is the\nenmity existing between cousins in Afghanistan that it has become a\nproverb that a man is \"as great an enemy as a cousin,\" the causes of\nsuch feuds being such as are more likely to arise between those who\nhave some relationship. The causes of 90 per cent. of such feuds are\ndescribed by the Afghans as belonging to one of three heads--zan, zar,\nand zamin, these being the three Persian words meaning women, money,\nand land; and disputes are more likely to arise between cousins than\nbetween strangers on such matters as these.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nAFGHAN TRADITIONS\n\n    Israelitish origin of the Afghans--Jewish practices--Shepherd\n    tradition of the Wazirs--Afridis and their saint--The zyarat\n    or shrine--Graveyards--Custom of burial--Graves of holy\n    men--Charms and amulets--The medical practice of a faqir--Native\n    remedies--First aid to the wounded--Purges and blood-letting--Tooth\n    extraction--Smallpox.\n\n\nA controversy as to the origin of the Afghans centres round the\nquestion as to whether they are the children of Israel or not;\nand there are two opposing camps, one regarding it as an accepted\nhistorical fact that they are descended from the lost ten tribes of\nIsrael, and the other repudiating all Israelitish affinities except\nsuch as may have come to them through the Muhammadan religion. The\nAfghans themselves--at least, the more intelligent part of the\ncommunity--will tell you that they are descended from the tribe of\nBenjamin, and will give you their genealogy through King Saul up to\nAbraham, and they almost universally apply the term \"Bani-Israil,\"\nor children of Israel, to themselves. Wolff, the traveller, relates\nthat an Afghan, Mulla Khodadad, gave him the following history:\nSaul had a grandson called Afgh\u00e1na, the nephew of Asaph, the son of\nBerachiah, who built the Temple of Solomon. One year and a half after\nSolomon's death he was banished from Jerusalem to Damascus on account\nof misconduct. In the time of Nebuchadnezzar the Jews were driven\nout of Palestine and taken to Babylon. The descendants of Afgh\u00e1na\nresiding at Damascus, being Jews, were also carried to Babylon,\nfrom whence they removed, or were removed, to the mountain of Ghor,\nin Afghanistan, their present place of residence, and in the time of\nMuhammad they accepted his religion.\n\nTo most observers the Afghan has a most remarkably Jewish cast of\nfeatures, and often in looking round the visitors of our out-patient\ndepartment one sees some old greybeard of pure Afghan descent, and\ninvoluntarily exclaims: \"That man might for all the world be one of\nthe old Jewish patriarchs returned to us from Bible history!\" All\nMuhammadan nations must, from the origin of their religion, have\nmany customs and observances which appear Jewish because they were\nadopted by Muhammad himself from the Jews around him; but there\nare two, at least, met with among Afghans which are not found among\nneighbouring Muhammadan peoples, and which strongly suggest a Jewish\norigin. The first, which is very common, is that of sacrificing an\nanimal, usually a sheep or a goat, in case of illness, after which\nthe blood of the animal is sprinkled over the doorposts of the house\nof the sick person, by means of which the angel of death is warded\noff. The other, which is much less common, and appears to be dying out,\nis that of taking a heifer and placing upon it the sins of the people,\nwhereby it becomes qurban, or sacrifice, and then it is driven out into\nthe wilderness. The Afghan, more than most Muhammadans, delights in\nBiblical names, and David, Solomon, Abraham, Job, Jacob, and many other\npatriarchs, are constant inmates of our hospital wards. New Testament\nnames, such as King Jesus (Mihtar Esa) and Simon are occasionally met\nwith. The ceremonies enacted at the Muhammadan \"'Id-i-bakr,\" or Feast\nof Sacrifice, have a most extraordinary similarity to the Jewish\nPassover; but as these have a religious, and not a racial, origin\nand signification, and can be read in any book on Muhammadanism,\nit is unnecessary to describe them here. The strongest argument\nagainst their Jewish origin is the almost entire disappearance of\nany Hebrew words from their vocabulary; but this may be partly,\nat least, explained by their admixture at first with Chaldaic, and\nsubsequently with Arab, races. The Wazirs have a tradition as to their\norigin, which, although its Biblical resemblance may be accidental,\nis yet certainly remarkable when found among so wild and barbarous\na race. The tradition is that a certain ancestor had two sons, Issa\nand Missa (probably Jesus and Moses). The latter was a shepherd, and\none day while tending his flocks on the hills a lamb strayed away and\ncould not be found. Missa, leaving his other sheep, went in search of\nthe lost one. For three days and nights he wandered about the jungle\nwithout being able to find it. On the morning of the fourth day he\nfound it in some distant valley, and, instead of being wroth with it,\nhe took it up in his arms, kissed it, and brought it safely back to\nthe flock. For this humane act God greatly blessed him, and made him\nthe progenitor of the Wazir tribe. Though it would seem to us more\nappropriate had this action been attributed to Issa instead of to\nMissa, yet this tradition has often given me a text for explaining\nthe Gospel story to a crowd of these wild tribesmen.\n\nThough all Afghans are fanatically zealous in the pursuit of their\nreligion, yet some are so ignorant of its teachings that more\ncivilized Muhammadans are hardly willing to admit their right to a\nplace in the congregation of the faithful. The Wazirs, for instance,\nwho would always be ready to take their share in a religious war, are\nnot only ignorant of all but the elementary truths of Muhammadanism,\nbut the worship of saints and graves is the chief form that their\nreligion takes. The Afridis are not far removed from them in this\nrespect, and it is related of a certain section of the Afridis that,\nhaving been taunted by another tribe for not possessing a shrine of\nany holy man, they enticed a certain renowned Seyyed to visit their\ncountry, and at once despatched and buried him, and boast to this\nday of their assiduity in worshipping at his sepulchre.\n\nThe frontier hills are often bare enough of fields or habitations, but\none cannot go far without coming across some zyarat, or holy shrine,\nwhere the faithful worship and make their vows. It is very frequently\nsituated on some mountain-top or inaccessible cliff, reminding one\nof the \"high places\" of the Israelites. Round the grave are some\nstunted trees of tamarisk or ber (Zisyphus jujuba). On the branches of\nthese are hung innumerable bits of rag and pieces of coloured cloth,\nbecause every votary who makes a petition at the shrine is bound\nto tie a piece of cloth on as the outward symbol of his vow. In\nthe accompanying photograph is seen a famous shrine on the Suliman\nRange. Despite its inaccessibility, hundreds of pilgrims visit this\nyearly, and sick people are carried up in their beds, with the hope\nthat the blessing of the saint may cure them. Sick people are often\ncarried on beds, either strapped on camels or on the shoulders of\ntheir friends, for considerably more than a hundred miles to one or\nother of these zyarats. In some cases it may reasonably be supposed\nthat the change from a stuffy, unventilated dark room to the open air,\nand the stimulus of change of climate and scenery, has its share in\nthe cure which often undoubtedly results.\n\nAnother feature of these shrines is that their sanctity is so\nuniversally acknowledged that articles of personal property may\nbe safely left by the owners for long periods of time in perfect\nconfidence of finding them untouched on their return. This is the more\nremarkable, remembering that these tribes are thieves by profession,\nand scarcely look upon brigandage as a reprehensible act. The\ninhabitants of a mountain village may be migrating to the plains for\nthe winter months, and they will leave their beds, pots and pans,\nand other household furniture, under the trees of some neighbouring\nshrine, and they will almost invariably find them on their return,\nsome months later, exactly as they left them. One distinct advantage\nof these shrines is that it is a sin to cut wood from any of the trees\nsurrounding them. Thus it comes about that the shrines are the only\ngreen spots among the hills which the improvident vandalism of the\ntribes has denuded of all their trees and shrubs.\n\nGraves have a special sanctity in the eyes of the Afghans, more\neven than in the case of other Muhammadans, and you will generally\nsee an Afghan, when passing by a graveyard, dismount from his horse\nand, turning towards some more prominent tomb, which denotes the\nburial-place of some holy man, hold up his hands in the attitude\nof Muhammadan prayer, and invoke the blessing of the holy man\non his journey, and then stroke his beard, as is usually done by\nthe Muhammadans at the conclusion of their prayers. There are few\ngraveyards which do not boast some such holy man or faqir in their\nmidst; in fact, as often as not, the chance burial of some such\nholy man in an out-of-the-way part determines the site of a cemetery,\nbecause all those in the country round desire to have their graves near\nhis, in the belief that at the Resurrection Day his sanctity will atone\nfor any of their shortcomings, and insure for them an unquestionable\nentry into bliss. The graves always lie north and south, and after\ndigging down to a depth determined by the character of the soil,\na niche is hollowed out at one side, usually the western, and the\ncorpse is laid in the niche, with its face turned towards Mecca. Some\nbricks or stones are then laid along the edge of the niche, so that\nwhen the earth is thrown in none of it may fall on the corpse, which\nis enveloped in a winding-sheet only, coffins being never used. The\norigin of the word \"coffin\" is possibly from the Arabic word kafn,\nwhich denotes the winding-sheet usually used by Muhammadans. [1]\n\nGreat marvels are related about the graves of these holy men, among\nthe commonest being the belief that they go on increasing in length of\ntheir own accord, the increase of length being a sign of the acceptance\nof the prayers of the deceased by the Almighty. Near the mission house\nin Peshawur was one such grave, which went on lengthening at the rate\nof one foot a year. When it had reached the length of twenty-seven\nfeet it was seriously encroaching on the public highway, and it was\nonly after the promulgation of an official order from the district\nauthorities that the further growth of the holy man should cease that\nthe grave ceased to expand. This shrine is still famous in the country\nround as \"the Nine-Yard Shrine,\" which numbers of devotees visit\nevery year, in the expectation of obtaining some material benefit.\n\nThe use of charms or amulets is practically universal. The children\nof the rich may be seen with strings of charms fastened up in little\nornamented silver caskets hung round their neck, while even the\npoorest labourer will not be without a charm sewn up in a bit of\nleather, which he fastens round his arm or his neck. These charms are\nmost usually verses out of the Quran, transcribed by some Mullah of\nrepute and blessed by him; others are cabalistic sentences or words,\nwhile some are mere bits of paper or rag which have been blessed by\na holy man. On more than one occasion I have found my prescriptions\nmade up into charms, the patient believing that this would be\nmore efficacious than drinking the hospital medicines; in fact,\none patient assured me that he had never suffered from rheumatism,\nto which he had previously been subject, after he had tied round his\narm a prescription in which I had ordered him some salicylate of soda,\nalthough he had never touched the drug. In one instance I found that\na man who had been given some grey powders, with directions how to\nuse them, had instead fastened them up, paper and all, into a little\npacket, which he had sewn up in leather and fastened round his neck,\nwith, he told me, very beneficial result. From this it can be readily\nunderstood that Mullahs and faqirs who pretend to have the power of\nmaking charms for all known diseases, and sell them to the people at\nlarge, are often able to enrich themselves far more rapidly than a\ndoctor who confines himself to the ordinary methods of treatment.\n\nOnce, when I was in camp, I came across a mountebank who was making\nquite a large fortune in this way. He had travelled over a large\npart of South-Western Asia, but did not stop long in any one place,\nas no doubt his takings would soon begin to wear off after the first\ndays of novelty. One of his performances was to walk through fire,\nprofessedly by the power of the Muhammadan Kalimah. A trench was\ndug in the ground, and filled with charcoal and wood, which was set\nalight. After the fire had somewhat died down, the still glowing\nembers were beaten down with sticks, and then the faqir, reciting\nthe Kalimah with great zest, proceeded to deliberately walk across,\nafter which he invited the more daring among the faithful to follow\nhis example, assuring them that if they recited the creed in the\nsame way and with sincerity, they would suffer no harm. Some went\nthrough the ordeal and showed no signs of having suffered from it;\nothers came out with blistered and sore feet. These unfortunates were\njeered at by the others as being no true Muhammadans, owing to which\nthey had forfeited the immunity conferred upon them by the recitation\nof the creed. One young Sikh student, calling out the Sikh battle-cry,\nventured on the ordeal, and came out apparently none the worse. The\nMuhammadans looked upon this as an insult to their religion, because\nMuhammadans oftener than not heard that cry when the Sikhs had been\nengaged in mortal combat with them, and this action of the young\nSikh appeared to them to be a challenge as to whether the Muhammadan\nor the Sikh cry had the greater magic power. However, some of the\nmore responsible persons present checked the more hot-headed ones,\nand the affair passed off with a little scoffing. Every morning and\nafternoon the faqir prepared for the reception of the patients,\nwho were collected in great numbers on hearing of his fame. Each\napplicant had to give 5 pice to the assistant as his fee. He was\nthen sent before the faqir, who remained seated on a mat. The faqir\nasked him one or two questions as to the nature of the illness,\nwrote out the necessary charm, and passed on to the next. Three or\nfour hundred people were often seen at one sitting. This would give\nabout 50 rupees (\u00a33. 6s. 8d.) as a day's takings. Some days would,\nno doubt, be occupied in travelling, and others less fruitful;\nbut his equipment and his method of travelling showed that it was\na very profitable business. He was stopping in the rest-house,\nand invited me to dinner, which was served in English fashion. He\nentertained me with stories of his travels, and made no secret of the\nfact that he took advantage of the credulity of the people to run a\ngood business. When dinner was nearly over an assistant came in to\nsay that there were many people outside clamouring for charms. With\nan apology to me for the interruption, he took a piece of paper,\ntore it up into squares, quickly wrote off the required number, and\ngave them to the assistant to go on with. In some cases, especially\nthose suffering from rheumatism or old injuries or sprains, he used\nrubbings and manipulations, much as a so-called bone-setter does,\nand these, no doubt, helped the charm to do its work.\n\nThe medical and surgical treatment of the faqirs is extremely\ncrude. Sometimes Jogis and herbalists from India travel about the\ncountry and practise a certain amount of yunani, or Hippocratic\nmedicine; but the native doctors of Afghanistan have extremely little\nknowledge of medicine. The two stock treatments of Afghanistan are\nthose known as dzan and dam. Dzan is a treatment habitually used in\ncases of fever, whether acute or chronic, and in a variety of chronic\ncomplaints, which they do not attempt to diagnose. It consists in\nstripping the patient to the skin and placing him on a bed. A sheep or\na goat is then killed and rapidly skinned. The patient is then wrapped\nup in the skin, with the raw surface next him and the wool outside. He\nis then covered up with a number of quilts. When successful, this\ntreatment acts by producing a profuse perspiration, and when it\nis removed--on the second day in the summer and the third day in\nthe winter--the patient is sometimes found to be free from fever,\nthough very worn and weak from the profuse sweating. If the first\napplication is not successful, it may be repeated several times. In\na case of severe injury to one of the limbs, the same treatment is\noften applied locally. In the case of a fractured thigh, for instance,\nthe sheepskin is tied on, a rough splint applied externally, and\noften left for a week or more. Where there has been an open wound,\nand the patient has been brought several days' journey through the\nheat down to our hospital in Bannu, you can usually anticipate the\ncharacter of the case by seeing the men who have carried the bed in\ncarefully winding their pagaris round their noses and mouths before\nproceeding to unbandage it for your inspection, and when it is at\nlast opened all except the doctor and his assistant try to get as far\naway as possible. A surgeon can scarcely be confronted with a more\ncomplete antithesis to his modern ideas of aseptic surgery than a\ncase like this, and many and prolonged applications of antiseptics\nand deodorants are required before the wound begins to assume a\nhealthy aspect, even if inflammation and gangrene have not rendered\namputation a necessity. In the case of a small wound, the whole or\na part of the skin of a fowl is used in the same way, the flesh of\nthe slaughtered animal being always a part of the fee of the doctor.\n\nThe other remedy, or that known as the dam, is akin to what is known\nin Western surgery as a \"moxa.\" A piece of cloth is rolled up in a\npledget of the size of a shilling, steeped in oil, placed on the\npart selected by the doctor, and set alight. It burns down into\nthe flesh, and a hard slough is formed; this gradually separates,\nand leaves an ulcer, which heals by degrees. This remedy is used\nfor every conceivable illness, a particular part of the body being\nselected according to the disease or the diagnostic ability of the\ndoctor who applies the remedy. Thus, in people who have suffered from\nindigestion you will often see a line of scars down each side of the\nabdomen. For neuralgia, it is applied to the temples; for headache,\nto the scalp; for rheumatism, to the shoulders; for lumbago, to the\nloins; for paralysis, to the back; for sciatica, to the thighs; and so\non indefinitely. I have counted as many as fifty scars, each the size\nof a shilling, on one patient as the result of repeated applications\nof this remedy. The Afghans have extraordinary faith in both these\ntreatments, and I have sometimes sat in a village listening to an\nargument in which some young fellow, lately returned from a visit\nto a mission hospital, recounted the wonderful things he had seen\nthere, to which some old conservative greybeard retorted: \"What do\nwe want with all these new-fangled things? The dzan and the dam are\nsufficient for us.\" As formerly in the West, so still in Afghanistan,\nthe village barber performs the ordinary surgical operations, such\nas opening an abscess or lancing a gum.\n\nThe women all claim a greater or less knowledge of such surgery and\nmedicine as they think necessary for them. After one of the village\nfrays, when the warriors come back to their homes more or less cut\nand wounded, the women of the household at once set about their\ntreatment. If there is severe h\u00e6morrhage some oil is quickly raised\nto boiling-point in a saucepan, and either poured into the wound,\nor if, for instance, a limb has been cut off, the bloody stump is\nplunged into the oil. This, no doubt, acts as an effective, though\nsomewhat barbarous, h\u00e6mostatic. If the bleeding is only slight,\na certain plant gathered from the jungle is reduced to ashes, and\nthese ashes rubbed on the wound. In the case of a clean cut the\nwomen draw out hairs from their own head, and sew it up with their\nordinary sewing-needles, and I have sometimes seen flesh wounds which\nhave been quite skilfully sewn up in this way. They are less skilful\nin the application of splints. In most neighbourhoods there is some\nvillage carpenter who prides himself on his skill in the application\nof splints to broken bones; but in most cases he bandages them too\ntightly, or with too little knowledge of the circulation of the limb,\nso that not a year passes in which we do not get one or more cases\nof limbs which have become gangrenous after quite simple fractures\nthrough this kind of treatment.\n\nAlmost the only drugs which are used to any extent in Afghanistan\nare purgatives, and especially those of a more violent and drastic\nnature. Nearly every Afghan thinks it necessary to be purged or bled,\nor both, every spring, and not unfrequently at the fall of the year\ntoo. Scarcely any illness is allowed to go to a week's duration without\nthe trial of some violent purge. Sometimes the purge is given with so\nlittle regard to its quantity and the vitality of the patient that it\nresults in rapid collapse and death. In other cases a latent dysentery\nis excited, which may result in an illness lasting many months,\nand leaving the patient permanently weakened thereby. The seasonal\nblood-lettings are performed, as in the West, from the bend of the arm,\nthis position having, no doubt, come down to the practitioners of both\nEast and West from the ancient Greeks; but in the case of illness,\nwhile the physicians of the West have had their practice revolutionized\nby modern ideas of anatomy and physiology, those of the East still\nfollow the humoral and hypothetical pathologies of Hippocrates and\nhis predecessors. These practitioners know the particular vein in\nthe particular limb or part of the body which has to be selected for\nvenesection in any particular illness. I have known a young doctor from\nEngland lose at once the confidence which the people might up to that\ntime have had in his medical knowledge, because in a case of illness\nto which he was called he recommended venesection, and the patient's\nmedical attendant who was to carry out the treatment made the, to him,\nvery natural inquiry, \"From what vein?\" The English doctor said: \"It\ndoes not matter.\" Both patient and medical attendant not unnaturally\nassumed that he was either a very careless doctor or an ignoramus,\nand, in either case, that they had better call in a fresh opinion.\n\nCataract is a very common complaint in Afghanistan, and from time\nimmemorial there have been certain hakims, or native practitioners,\nwho operate on this by means of the old process of couching. These\nmen usually itinerate about the country from village to village, as\nin most cases the old men and the old women who are suffering from\ncataract are unable to undertake the journey to a town where one\nof these practitioners lives; or it may be that their relations are\nnot willing to take the trouble for someone whose working days are\napparently over. In some cases no doubt the operation results in good\nsight, but in the majority other changes which take place in the eye\nas a result of the operation lead before long to total blindness. As,\nhowever, the hakim seldom goes over the same ground again till after\nthe lapse of several years, his reputation does not lose by these\nfailures, as it would have done if he were always resident in one\nplace. The tooth extracting of the village is usually entrusted to the\nvillage blacksmith, who has a ponderous pair of forceps, a foot and\na half to two feet long, hung up in his shop for the purpose. Where\nthe crown of the tooth is fairly strong and prominent the operation\ngenerally results in a short struggle, and then the removal of the\naching tooth; but if the tooth is very carious, or not prominent enough\nfor a good grip, the results are often disastrous, even to fracture of\nthe jaw, and these ultimately come to the mission hospital for repair,\nseveral often turning up in one day.\n\nAt one time smallpox was terribly rife in Afghanistan, and even now\nno village can be visited without seeing many who are permanently\ndisfigured by it. When an Afghan comes to negotiate about the price of\nan eligible girl for marrying to his son, one of the first questions\nasked is, \"Has she had the smallpox?\" and if not, either the settlement\nmay be postponed until she is older, or else some deduction is made\nfor her possible disfigurement if attacked by the disease. Many times\nfathers have brought their daughters to the hospital with the scars\nleft by smallpox in their eyes, begging me to remove them, not so much\nfor the sake of the patient as because the market value of the daughter\nwill be so much enhanced thereby. The custom of inoculation was at\none time almost universal in Afghanistan. A little of the crust of the\nsore of a smallpox patient was taken and rubbed into an incision made\nin the wrist of the person to be inoculated. The smallpox resulting,\nthough usually mild, was sometimes so severe as to cause the death\nof the patient, and the people have not been slow to recognize the\ngreat advantages which vaccination has over inoculation. Only two\ncircumstances deter the people from universally profiting by the\nfacilities offered by the British Government. The first reason is that\nvery often the vaccinators are underpaid officials, who use their\nopportunities for taking bribes from the people, and make the whole\nbusiness odious to them. The other is, that they have a widespread\nsuperstition that the Government are really seeking for a girl, who\nis to be recognized by the fact that when the vaccinator scarifies\nher arm, instead of blood, milk will flow from the wound; she is then\nto be taken over to England for sacrifice, and the parents are afraid\nlest their girl should be the unlucky one.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nBORDER WARRIORS\n\n    Peiwar Kotal--The Kurram Valley--The Bannu Oasis--Independent\n    tribes--The Durand line--The indispensable Hindu--A lawsuit and its\n    sequel--A Hindu outwits a Muhammadan--The scope of the missionary.\n\n\nI was standing on a pine-clad spur of the Sufed Koh Range, which\nruns westwards towards Kabul, between the Khaiber Pass on the north\nand the Kurram Pass on the south. The snow-clad peaks of Sika Ram,\nwhich rise to a height of fifteen thousand feet, tipped by fleecy\nwhite clouds, were just behind me, while in front was the green valley\nof the Kurram River, spread out like a panorama before me, widening\nout into a large plain in its upper part, where numerous villages,\npartly hidden in groves of mulberry and walnuts, nestled among the\nlower spurs of the mountains, while farther down the hills on either\nside of it closed in and became more rugged and bare, and the river\nwound its circuitous path through defile and gorge, till it debouched\non the plains of India. Immediately before me was the pine-covered\nPass of Peiwar, which will always be memorable as the scene of the\ngreat battle fought between the forces of the Amir, Sher Ali, and\nthe advancing column of Sir Frederick Roberts. There were the pines\ncovering the crest where the Afghan batteries were ensconced, and one\ncould trace without difficulty the circuitous path up the stony bed\nof the mountain torrent, through a deep ravine, and then winding up\namong the pine-woods, by which the gallant regiments of the advancing\narmy stormed and finally captured the Afghan position. Westward of the\npass was a fertile valley, dotted over with villages here and there,\nforming part of the territory of the Amir of Afghanistan. A few miles\nbelow the top of the pass could be seen the fort where the soldiers\nof the Amir guarded his frontier. Turning eastward, some dozen miles\noff, could be seen the cantonments of Parachinar, the westernmost\ncantonments of British occupation, and the seat of administration of\nthis trans-border valley. There was a fort garrisoned by the local\nlevies of the Kurram Militia--Afghans from the villages round, who,\nunder the training and influence of three or four British officers,\nhave become part of the \"far-flung battle line\" of the defences of\nthe Empire.\n\nI had been spending some weeks among the people of this district,\nand the time had come for reluctantly leaving the shady groves and\ncool breezes of the Upper Kurram for the sweltering plains of Bannu,\nwhich even now I could see in the eastern distance covered by heat\nhaze, recalling the punkahs and restless nights which were soon to\nbe my lot instead of the bracing air of the Sufed Koh. Our tents and\nbaggage had been loaded up on some mules, which we could see winding\nalong the white road below us, while we were lingering behind to take\na last leave of the hearty Afghans, who had been both our hosts and\nour patients. Three times had we to pitch our nightly camp before we\ncrossed the border of British India and entered the border town of\nThal, which is the first town in British India which a traveller from\nAfghanistan enters. From the time of crossing the Afghan frontier till\nnow, he has been going through what is known as an \"administrative\narea.\" Here was a fort, occupied by troops of the Indian Army, under\ncommand of a British officer.\n\nThirty-four miles still remained in a direct line between us and\nour destination in Bannu, and before accomplishing this special\narrangements had to be made with the tribes occupying it for our\nescort; for this tongue of country running up between Thal and\nBannu was not British India, nor even an administrative area,\nbut independent, and owned by the marauding Wazir tribe, who owed\nallegiance to neither Amir nor Viceroy. A couple of ruffianly-looking\nWazirs arrived to escort us down. Their rifles were slung over their\nshoulders, and well-filled cartridge belts strapped round their waists;\na couple of Afghan daggers were ensconced in the folds of the dirty\nred pagaris which they had bound round their bodies, and they carried\ntheir curved Afghan swords in their hands. We had now left the fertile\nvalley of Upper Kurram behind us, and wandered through a succession of\nrocky mountain defiles, over precipitous spurs, and along the stony\nbed of the river for more than thirty miles. The lower mountain\nranges separating Afghanistan from India form by their intricacy\nand precipitate nature a succession of veritable chevaux de frise,\nwhich by their natural difficulties maintain the parda or privacy of\nthe wild tribes inhabiting them, who value the independence of their\nmountain fastnesses more than life itself. Here and there is a patch of\narable land in a bend of the Kurram River, overlooked by the walled and\ntowered village of its possessors, who have won it by force of arms,\nand only keep it by their armed vigils, even the men who are ploughing\nbehind their oxen having their rifles hung over their shoulders,\nand keeping their eyes open for a possible enemy. In some places a\nchannel from the river has been carried with infinite labour on to a\nflat piece of ground among the mountains, where a scanty harvest is\nreaped. For the rest the hill seems to be almost devoid of animal or\nvegetable life. A few partridges starting up with a shrill cry from a\ntuft of dry grass in front of one are occasionally seen, and stunted\ntrees of ber and acacia supply a certain amount of firewood, which\nsome of the Wazirs gather and take down to the Friday Fair in Bannu.\n\nThe Afghans will tell you that when God created the world there were\na lot of stones and rocks and other lumber left over, which were\nall dumped down on this frontier, and that this accounts for its\nunattractive appearance. There is one more range of hills to surmount\nbefore we reach the plains of India. We have toiled up a rocky path,\nfrom the bare stones of which the rays of the summer sun are reflected\non all sides, without any relief from tree or shrub, or even a tuft of\ngreen grass, till the ground beneath our feet seems to glow with as\nfierce a heat as that of the blazing orb above us. We have reached\nthe summit, and the vista before us changes as if by magic. Five\nhundred feet below us is the broad plain of India, irrigated in this\npart by the vivifying waters of the Kurram River, which, liberated\nfrom the rock-bound defile through which they have wandered for the\nlast thirty miles, now dashing over their stony bed, anon hemmed\nin by dark overhanging cliffs, are at last free to break up into\nnumberless channels, which, guided by the skill of the agriculturist,\nform a labyrinth of silver streaks in the plain below us. As far as\nthe life-giving irrigation cuts of the Kurram River extend are waving\nfields of corn, sugar-cane, maize, rice, turmeric, and other crops,\nspread in endless succession as far as the eye can reach.\n\nScattered among the fields are the teeming villages of the Bannuchies,\npartly hidden in their groves of mulberries and figs and their\nvineyards, as though Cornucopia, wearied by the barren hills above\nthem in Afghanistan, had showered down all her gifts on the favoured\ntribes below. Such is India as it appears to the Pathans inhabiting the\nhills on our North-West Frontier, and when we see it thus after some\ntime spent with them in their barren and rocky hills, we can readily\nunderstand that two thoughts are dominant in their minds. The one is:\n\"Those rich plains have been put there, in contiguity to our mountains,\nbecause God intended them to be our lawful prey, that when we have\nno harvest we may go down and reap theirs; and when we are hard up,\nand have a big fine to pay to the British Government, we may lighten\nsome of the wealthy Hindus of the money that they have accumulated\nthrough usury and other ways which God hates.\" The other thought is:\n\"What possible reason has the British Government, the overlord of such\nrich lands, for coming and interfering with us in our mountain homes,\nwhich, though nothing but rocks and stones, are still our homes for all\nthat, where we resent the presence and interference of any stranger?\"\n\nThe reader will have observed that in the journey above described,\nfrom Peiwar down to Bannu, four different territories have been\npassed through. The first and the last--viz., Afghanistan and British\nIndia--are two well-defined, easily comprehensible geographical areas;\nbut it is seen that betwixt the two are various other tribal areas,\nin varying relations with the Indian Government. A few words must\nbe said to familiarize the reader with the political conditions\nobtaining there. The frontier of British India is well defined, but\nthat of Afghanistan was more or less uncertain until the year 1893,\nwhen Sir Mortimer Durand was deputed by the British Government to\nmeet the officers delegated by the Amir Abdurrahman, in order that\nthe frontier might be delimited. This frontier is since known as the\n\"Durand Line.\" The intervening area between the Durand Line and the\nBritish frontier is in varying relations to the Indian Government.\n\nSome parts of this, such as Tirah (the country of the Afridis and\nOrakzais) and Waziristan (the country of the Wazirs and Mahsuds), are\nseverely left alone, provided the tribes do not compel attention and\ninterference by the raids into British territory, which are frequently\nperpetrated by their more lawless spirits.\n\nThese raids are no doubt disapproved of by the majority of the\ntribesmen, who recognize the fact that they must stand to lose in\nany conflict with the British Government; but such is the democratic\nspirit of the people that every man considers himself as good as his\nneighbour, and a step better if he has a more modern rifle. As in the\ninterregnums of the days of the Israelitish Judges, each man does what\nseems good in his own eyes, and bitterly resents any effort of his\nneighbour, and even of the tribe, to control his actions or curtail\nhis liberty. Thus it happens that it is really very difficult for the\ntribal elders to prevent their bad characters from perpetrating these\nraids. The raiders are usually men with nothing to lose, owning no\nlanded property within the confines of British India, and guilty of\nprevious murders or other crimes, which make it impossible for them\nto enter the country, except surreptitiously, as they would certainly\nbe imprisoned, and perhaps hanged, if caught.\n\nA great number in the tribe own lands on both sides of the border, and\nfind it to their interest to take no overt part against the Government;\nwhile at the same time, unless they give asylum to the desperadoes,\nand conceal them on occasion, they are liable to be themselves the\nvictims. Thus it happens that in nearly every frontier expedition\nthere are some sections of the tribe which desire to be on good terms\nwith the British, and are known as \"friendlies.\" It is difficult\nfor a military commander who has not previously known the people\nto appreciate this, and when he finds his camp being sniped from a\nsupposed \"friendly\" village, he not unnaturally doubts the sincerity\nof the people. As likely as not, however, the recalcitrant sections of\nthe tribe have been at pains to snipe from such points as to implicate\nthe friendly sections and force them into joining the standard of\nwar. On one occasion the exasperated General refused to believe the\nrepresentations of the Political Officer that the villages from the\nneighbourhood of which the sniping came were friendly until he left\nthe camp and went over to live in the (supposed) enemies' village\nhimself! The well-disposed clans would welcome an administration of\nthe country by which these lawless spirits could be kept in check.\n\nThen, there are certain semi-independent States, such as Chitral and\nDir, where there are rulers of sufficient paramount power to govern\ntheir own country and to render it possible for the British to maintain\nthat amount of control of their external relations which is considered\ndesirable, by means of a Political Agent attached to the court of the\nchief, while still leaving the latter free to manage his own internal\naffairs in accordance with the customs of his tribe and the degree\nof his own supremacy over the often conflicting units composing it.\n\nThirdly, there are what are known as \"administered areas,\" such as the\nUpper Kurram Valley, above mentioned. These are inhabited by tribes\nover whom no one chief has been able to gain paramount authority for\nhimself, where, as is so often the case among Afghans, the tribe is\neaten up by a number of rival factions, none of which are willing\nto acknowledge the rule of a man from a faction not their own. The\nGovernment official, therefore, is unable to treat with one ruler,\nbut has to hear all the members of the contending factions. So great\nis the democratic spirit that any petty landowner thinks he has as\nmuch right to push his views of public policy as the representative\nof an hereditary line of chiefs. This naturally greatly complicates\nofficial relations, and the Political Officer, however much he would\nlike to refrain from interference in tribal home policy, finds that,\namid a host of conflicting units, he is the only possible court\nof appeal. This results in an intermediate form of government: the\nIndian Penal Code does not obtain; tribal laws and customs are the\nrecognized judicial guides, and there is a minimum of interference\nwith the people; yet the Political Officer is the supreme authority,\nand combines in himself the executive and judicial administration of\nthe area.\n\nNotwithstanding the exclusiveness of the religion that these\npeople profess, they find it impossible to do their business or\nlive comfortably without the help of the ubiquitous and obsequious\nHindu. Just as much as the great Mughal Emperors of old found it\nbest to have Hindus for the posts of treasurer, accountant, adviser,\netc., so the frontier chief of to-day has his Hindu vassal always with\nhim, to keep his accounts, write his petitions, and transact most of\nhis written and judicial business. The majority of the shopkeepers\nalso are Hindus. Even under the settled administration of British\nIndia the Muhammadan has never become such an adept at bargaining,\npetty trade, and shopkeeping as the more thrifty and quick-witted\nHindu. Thus in every village of any pretension there are the Hindus,\nwith their shops, who make their journeys to the big market-towns\non the frontier--Peshawur, Bannu, and Dera Ismail Khan--and return\nwith piece-goods, matches, looking-glasses, and a variety of Western\ntrinkets, as well as the food-stuffs which the Afghan covets, but\ncannot produce himself, such as white sugar and tea. These Hindus\nare regarded as vassals by the Muhammadan community they supply,\nand each Hindu trader or shopkeeper has his own particular overlord\nor Muhammadan malik, who in return for these services guarantees his\nsafety, is ready to protect him--by force of arms, if necessary--from\nrival Muhammadan sections, and to revenge any injury done to him as\nif it were a personal one to himself.\n\nThe Hindu supplies the brains and the Muhammadan the valour. The\nHindu is ever ready to outwit his overbearing but often obtuse\nmasters, and under British rule avails himself of the protection\nthe law affords to do things he would not venture on across the\nborder. Once when travelling across the border my guide was an outlaw,\nwho had been obliged to fly from British territory after committing\na murder. He told me that he had gone into partnership with a Hindu\nfor an extensive contract for road-making: the Hindu was to supply\nthe capital and keep accounts, and he was to recruit the coolies and\ndo the supervision of the work. \"While I,\" he said, \"was broiling\nand sweating in the summer sun, that pig of a Hindu was comfortably\nseated in his office falsifying the accounts, and I never got an anna\nfor all my labours. I thought I should get justice from the Sarkar,\nso I brought a civil action against him; but I was a plain man, and he\nlearnt all about the ways of the law from some pleader friend of his,\nand I lost the case. Then I paid another pleader a big sum to take\nmy appeal to the Sessions Judge, but he had manipulated the accounts\nand paid the witnesses, so that I lost that too. Allahu Akbar! The\nJudge gave his verdict before the shadow had turned [before midday],\nand before the time of afternoon prayers had arrived that son of a\npig was as dead as a post. But then I had to come over here, and I\ncan only pay an occasional night visit to my village now.\"\n\nA story which he told me to illustrate the mercantile genius of the\nHindu will bear repeating. A Muhammadan and a Hindu resolved to go\ninto partnership. The Muhammadan, being the predominant partner,\nstipulated that he was to have the first half of everything, and the\nHindu the remainder. The Hindu obsequiously consented. The first day\nthe Hindu brought back a cow from market. He milked it, got the butter\nand cream, made the dung into fuel-cakes for his fire, and then went\nto call the Muhammadan because the cow was hungry and wanted grass\nand grain. The Muhammadan said he was ready to do his share if the\nHindu did his. The Hindu blandly replied that he had already done his,\nwhile the stipulated \"first half\" of the cow included the animal's\nmouth and stomach, and fell clearly to the lot of the Muhammadan.\n\nNow let us see what is the position of the missionary in each of these\nareas. In British India he has a free hand so long as he keeps within\nthe four corners of the law. In Afghanistan there is an absolute veto\nagainst even his entry into the country, and there is no prospect of\nthis changing under the present r\u00e9gime. A convert from Muhammadanism\nto Christianity is regarded within the realms of the Amir as having\ncommitted a capital offence, and both law and popular opinion would\ndecree his destruction. In the intervening tribal areas there is no\nreason why a cautious missionary, well acquainted with the language and\ncustoms of the people, should not work with considerable success. A\nmedical missionary who did not attack their religion with a mistaken\nzeal would undoubtedly be welcomed by the greater number of the people,\nthough the Mullahs, or priests, would be an uncertain element, and\ncertainly hostile at the beginning. The local political authorities\nhave the final say as to how far the missionaries may extend their\noperations. I shall revert to this subject in the concluding chapter\n(Chapter XXV.), where I shall show that in no part of the country are\nmedical missions more obviously indicated, not only for Christianizing\nthe people, but equally so for pacifying them and familiarizing them\nwith the more peaceful aspects of British rule.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nA FRONTIER VALLEY\n\n    Description of the Kurram Valley--Shiahs and Sunnis--Favourable\n    reception of Christianity--Independent areas--A candid\n    reply--Proverbial disunion of the Afghans--The two policies--Sir\n    Robert Sandeman--Lord Curzon creates the North-West Frontier\n    Province--Frontier wars--The vicious circle--Two flaws the\n    natives see in British rule: the usurer, delayed justice--Personal\n    influence.\n\n\nAmong the various tracts of border territory that have recently\nbeen opened up and brought under the influence of civilization by\nthe frontier policy of the Indian Government, none is fairer or\nmore promising than the Upper Kurram Valley, on the lower waters of\nwhich river Bannu, the headquarters of the Afghan Medical Mission, is\nsituate. The River Kurram rises on the western slopes of Sikaram, the\nhighest point of the Sufed Koh Range (15,600 feet), and for twenty-five\nmiles makes a d\u00e9tour to the south and east through the Aryab Valley,\nwhich is inhabited by the tribe of Zazis, who are still under the\ngovernment of the Amir, and form his frontier in this part. The river\nthen suddenly emerges into a wider basin, the true valley of Upper\nKurram, stretching from the base of the Sufed Koh Range to the base\nof a lower range on the right bank, a breadth of fifteen miles, the\nriver running close to the latter range, and the north-western corner\nof this basin being separated from the head-waters of the Kurram by\nthe ridge of the Peiwar Kotal, where was fought the memorable action\nof December 2, 1879, by which the road to Kabul was opened. This wide\nvalley runs down as far as Sadr, thirty miles lower down towards the\nsouth-east, being narrower, however, below. Here the valley narrows\ndown to from two to four miles, and runs south-east for thirty-five\nmiles to Thal, where it ceases to be in British territory, but winds\nfor thirty miles among the Waziri Hills, until it emerges into the\nBannu Plain, and flows through the Bannu and Marwat districts into\nthe Indus at Isa Khel. Thus, with the exception of the head-waters and\nsome thirty miles just above Bannu, the territory is all now subject\nto British rule, and is steadily becoming more peaceful and civilized.\n\nBelow the Zazis the valley down as far as Waziristan was originally\npossessed by the Bangash, a Sunni tribe of Pathans, who came themselves\nfrom the direction of Kohat. The Turis were a Shiah tribe inhabiting\nsome districts on the eastern bank of the Indus near Kalabagh,\nwho, being ardent traders and nomads, were accustomed to visit\nthe cool regions of Upper Kurram every summer for trade, health,\nand pasturage. One summer, some two hundred years ago, a quarrel\narose between them and the Bangash of a village called Burkha, and\nresulted in a battle, in which the Turis came off victorious, and,\ndestroying or driving away the inhabitants of Burkha, made it their\nfirst settlement in the valley. Soon after this they attacked and\npossessed themselves of two of the most important villages of the\nvalley, Peiwar and Milana, and to this day every Turi with aspirations\nto importance claims land in one of these three villages, though it\nmay be only the fiftieth part of a field, as proof of his true lineage.\n\nYear by year the Turis gradually strengthened their position, driving\nthe Bangash farther down the valley, except in some cases, such as\nthe inhabitants of the large and beautiful village of Shlozan, the\nBangash of which, all becoming Shiahs, amalgamated with the Turis,\nand retained their lands.\n\nFinally, having made their position secure, and realizing the charms\nof the valley, the Turis ceased to return to the plain, and remained\nin the valley all the year round. Hence to-day we find the upper part\nof the valley inhabited only by Turis, while below this, as far as\nthe Alizai, the Turis and Bangash are mingled, their villages being\noften side by side; and further down still the Bangash have the land\nall to themselves.\n\nSince the people have realized the peace resulting from English rule,\nand have begun to beat their swords into ploughshares, many of the hill\ntribes bordering the valley have taken every opportunity of settling\nin allotments in the valley, and enjoying the larger produce of its\nricher soil. These are the Mangals and Makbals above, and the Zaimukhts\nbelow, thus introducing a fresh element into the population. Over and\nabove these any worker in the valley has to count on dealings with the\nneighbouring tribes, who still cling to their mountain fastnesses,\nand sometimes still show their old disposition to loot the more\npeaceable inhabitants. These are the Ningrahars, Spinwars, and Paris\non the north, and the Zazi-i-Maidan on the south; while the Afghan\ncountry of Khost being in close proximity, its people also would be\neasily reached. To make the enumeration of the inhabitants complete,\nit only remains to mention the Hindus, who, mostly of the Arora caste,\nare in large numbers in the valley, and retain most of the trade,\nand do much clerical and business work for the Muhammadans.\n\nIn the time of the Hindu Rajahs of Kabul they were probably in the\nascendant here, and the little arch\u00e6ology which the valley presents\nis all of Hindu origin. Apart from the variety of tribes who are thus\nbrought into close proximity in the valley, it has a special interest\nand importance from its being one of the two routes from Kabul to India\n(the other being the Khaiber). Hence many nomads from Afghanistan\nfrequently visit and temporarily inhabit the valley. Prominent at\npresent among these are the Hazaras, numbers of whom have been driven\nout from their own lands by the Amir, and have come here to labour\non the roads.\n\nThe Khorotis and Ghilzais also frequent the valley. It is owing to\nthis peculiarly central and cosmopolitan position, and partly to\nthe character of the people themselves, that this district presents\nso many advantages as a centre of mission work and influence. There\nis a great opportunity for mission work among the Turis. These, as\nabove mentioned, are Shiahs, while all the tribes round belong to\nthe orthodox sect of Sunnis; consequently, previously to the English\noccupation in 1891 they were subjected to persistent, relentless\npersecution at the hands of the Amir, and to frequent inroads\nfrom their Sunni neighbours. They naturally, therefore, look on the\nChristians as deliverers from the throes of Sunni rule and persecution,\nand are ipso facto inclined to look on Christianity favourably, since\nit has brought them so much peace and freedom from oppression. And\nstill, as a wordy warfare is carried on by their respective Mullahs,\nboth sides endeavour to find in Christianity points of resemblance\nby which they can magnify their own sect, rather than, like the\nMuhammadans of Bannu, to be constantly cavilling at every word from\na Christian tongue or a Christian book.\n\nThis has resulted in a wonderful (wonderful, at any rate, to a\nmissionary from bigoted Bannu) openness to conversation about the\nChristian Scriptures, and readiness to receive Christian teaching. For\ninstance, in Bannu a well-inclined Mullah dare not read a Bible except\nin secrecy, while in Kurram I have frequently seen Mullahs publicly\nreading and commenting on the Holy Word to large groups of Khans and\nother men.\n\nAgain, in Bannu mention of such doctrines as the Sonhood, the\nCrucifixion, or the Sinlessness of Christ, or the Fatherhood of God,\nis as often as not the signal for an uproar; while here the same\ndoctrines, even if not partially accepted, may yet be freely talked\nabout, with the certainty of nearly always getting a fair hearing.\n\nThe first summer during which I spent some time among these\npeople I nearly everywhere had a hospitable, not to say cordial,\nreception. This, of course, was partly attributable to the\nmedical benefits they received, but it was markedly different\nfrom the reception often accorded to the bearer of Gospel tidings\nin Hindustan. At no place was there any open opposition from the\nMullahs, and most of them came to see me, and had long talks about\nthe Injil (Gospel), and asked for and gratefully accepted copies of\nit, which I have reason to believe they preserved carefully and read\nregularly; while the people often besought us to partake longer of\ntheir hospitality or to visit them again next year, or, better still,\nto start a dispensary in their midst.\n\nA reference to the map shows how intimate are the relations of this\nvalley with Afghanistan, and relics of Afghan rule frequently present\nthemselves to the doctor when going about their villages--men who have\nbeen crippled for life as a punishment for some crime, or it may be\nmerely because they incurred the displeasure of someone of influence,\nwho manufactured a case against them. I have seen men who have had\ntheir right hand cut off for robbery, and others whose feet were\ncompletely crippled by long-continued incarceration in the stocks,\nor by a torture often inflicted to extract evidence, in which the\nfoot is tied with cords to a piece of wood like a magnified tent-peg\nfixed in the ground. This peg has a cleft in it, and a wedge is then\nhammered slowly into this cleft, thus gradually tightening the cords\ntill they cut into the foot and cause its mortification.\n\nIn every village there are one or more matamkhanas, where the Shiahs\nhold their annual mournings for the martyrs of Kerbela (Hasan and\nHuse\u00efn) at every Muharram. Under Afghan (Sunni) rule these ceremonies\nwere often interdicted, or at least restricted; but now they are\nable to carry them on unhindered, and pray for the continuance of\nBritish rule in consequence. These places form convenient centres\nfor the men to gather together and talk, and in them many of my\nreligious discussions have been held. They are all the more ready\nto accept the Christian account of the Crucifixion and its meaning\n(which is such a stumbling-block to the Sunnis), because they look on\nthe martyrdom of the two brothers at Kerbela as having a vicarious\nefficacy for those who perform the memorial rites, and regard 'Ali,\nthe fourth Khalifa from Muhammad, as being indeed a saviour.\n\nIf we could have visited this valley in the days long before\nthe Christian era, when the first Aryan immigrants were passing\ndown from Central Asia into the Panjab, we should have seen it\ncovered with their settlements, and seen them engaged in the simple\nNature-worship depicted in the Vedas, which record this stage of\nAryan civilization. This region was probably much better watered and\nmore fertile in those days than it is now. Not only does geological\nevidence point to a greater rainfall and vegetation, but as these\nearly immigrations were mostly of large bands of pastoral people,\nmoving with their flocks and herds, their families and household\npossessions, and as they probably only gradually moved down the valley\ninto the plains below, they must have found more pasturage than the\ndesolate frontier ranges would now afford.\n\nThe Kurram Valley above described serves as a good example of an\nadministered area fairly well advanced in the civilizing effects of\na settled and just Government.\n\nThe independent tribes, on the other hand, go down the scale till\nyou find tribes, such as some sections of the Wazirs and Afridis,\nwho are utter barbarians, entirely devoted to a nomadic life of\nsystematic highway robbery.\n\nA Political Officer was once seated, with a number of the head men of\nsome of these independent tribes, on the top of one of their rugged\nmountains, from which you look down on Afghanistan to the west and\nIndia to the east. They had been touring with him as his escort for\nsome days. He had fed them well, and could chat familiarly with them\nin their own lingo, so that they had learnt to talk with him without\nreserve about even their tribal secrets.\n\n\"Now, tell me,\" said the officer, \"if there were to be war--which\nGod forbid--between Russia and England, what part would you and your\npeople take? whom would you side with?\"\n\n\"Do you wish us to tell you what would please you, or to tell you\nthe real truth?\" was their na\u00efve reply.\n\n\"I adjure you only tell me what is the 'white word'\" (meaning the\ntrue statement).\n\n\"Then,\" said an old greybeard among them, voicing the feelings of all\npresent, \"we would just sit here up on our mountain-tops watching you\nboth fight, until we saw one or other of you utterly defeated; then\nwe would come down and loot the vanquished till the last mule! God\nis great! What a time that would be for us!\"\n\nNo doubt he spake truly, but such is the discord of the Afghan tribes\nthat no doubt the spoil would scarcely be gathered in before they\nwould begin to fight among themselves over the division of it. These\ntribal jealousies and petty wars are inherent among the Afghans,\nand greatly diminish their formidableness as foes. If you ask them\nabout it they will acknowledge this defect in their character, and\ntell you how that one of their ancestors displeased the Almighty,\nwho, to punish him, wove the strands of discord in the web of their\nnature from that time onwards. Hence the saying, \"The Afghans of the\nfrontier are never at peace except when they are at war!\" For when some\nenemy from without threatens their independence, then, for the time\nbeing, are their feuds and jealousies thrown aside, and they fight\nshoulder to shoulder, to resume them again when the common danger is\naverted. Even when they are all desirous of joining in some jihad,\nthey remain suspicious of each other, and are apt to fail one another\nat critical moments; or else one tribe will wait to see how it fares\nwith those already in it before unsheathing their own swords. Thus it\nwas in the frontier rising of 1897 that the difficulty of quelling\nthe rising would have been immensely greater had it not been that\nthe tribes rose seriatim instead of simultaneously, and the rising\nin one part of the frontier had been put down before another broke out.\n\nTwo policies have at various times been advocated with equal warmth by\ntheir respective partisans. The earlier policy, which was supported by\nLord Lawrence in the days of his Viceroyalty, was generally known as\nthe \"policy of masterly inactivity.\" Later on the \"forward policy\"\nreceived more general approbation, its chief exponent being Sir\nRobert Sandeman. Those who advocate the former point out the great\nexpenditure involved in all interference with the internal tribes\nacross our border, and that almost inevitably we become sooner\nor later involved in wars with them. They would therefore have the\nBritish Government strictly abstain from all trans-frontier politics,\nand leave the tribes severely alone, so long as they give no trouble\nto us on our side of the border. The \"forward\" party, on the other\nhand, point out the danger of having this extensive area on the\nmost vulnerable part of our Indian Empire outside our own control,\nand they advocate a system of controlling all the political affairs\nof the trans-border tribes, while leaving their internal policy in\nthe hands of their own chiefs, who, though guided by our political\nofficers, would be free to maintain the ancient tribal customs.\n\nSir Robert Sandeman is, perhaps, the most remarkable instance of\nthe power which a single officer has been able to exercise over\nthese border tribes, and it was through him that the large tract\non the border between Quetta and the Deras was organized under our\nPolitical Officers, working through the tribal chiefs. Allowances are\nmade to the tribes, in return for which they guarantee the safety of\nthe British posts on the highroads, and become responsible for any\nmisdemeanours on the part of other members of their tribe. Tribal\nlevies are organized under young officers of the British Army, who\ntrain them in military discipline, drill, and marksmanship. The pay\nreceived by these soldiers becomes a valuable asset to the tribe,\nand a strong inducement to give up their more predatory habits, in\nfavour of the pax Britannica. Still, it was found necessary to place\nregular troops of the Indian Army in some of the more important and\ncritical situations. The frontier is, for the most part, composed of\nintricate, and in many parts inaccessible, mountain ranges, which form\nan absolute barrier to the passage of troops; but piercing through\nthese are the passes, of which the best known are the Khaiber and the\nBolan, which from time immemorial have formed the highways through\nwhich hostile armies have invaded India, and it would be through them\nthat any enemy of the future would endeavour to bring its forces. It\nis therefore a paramount necessity to the British Government that\nthese passes should be securely guarded, and therefore each one of\nthem forms part of one of the areas administered by British officers,\nand guarded either by native troops or tribal levies.\n\nIt is through these passes, too, that the great merchant caravans pass\ndown from Afghanistan and Central Asia into British India. In former\ntimes the merchants had to subsidize the tribes through which they\npassed, who would otherwise have blocked the passes and stolen their\ngoods; and it is partly to make up to the tribes for the loss of this\nincome that the tribal subsidies were arranged. Near where each of\nthese passes debouches on to the trans-Indus plain is a city, which\nforms an emporium for the merchandise brought down, and a military\nstation for the protection of the pass. While Peshawur serves this\npurpose for the Khaiber, Kohat commands the Kurram, Bannu the Tochi,\nand Dera Ismail Khan the Gumal.\n\nWhen Lord Curzon assumed the Viceroyalty, the frontier districts\nformed part of the Panjab, and the Lieutenant-Governor of that\nprovince was in administrative control of them. Lord Curzon wished\nto bring them more directly under his own control, so in 1901 a new\nprovince, composed of five frontier districts of the Panjab, was\nconstituted, and called the North-West Frontier Province. The five\ndistricts composing this province are Hazara, Peshawur, Kohat, Bannu,\nand Dera Ismail Khan. These are all beyond the Indus, except Hazara,\nwhich is to the east of that river.\n\nA Chief Commissioner was appointed over the whole province, directly\nresponsible to the Viceroy, and he had his headquarters and the centre\nof government at Peshawur.\n\nLord Curzon's next move was to advance the railway systems of the\nPanjab along the frontier, bringing their termini to the mouths of\nthe Khaiber and Kurram Passes. As this enabled a rapid concentration\nof troops at any point along the frontier, he was able to withdraw\nthe regiments of the Indian Army which garrisoned the more outlying\ndistricts, and to replace them by tribal levies.\n\nNo doubt it is the desire of the Government not to make any further\nannexations of this barren, mountainous, and uninviting border\nregion; but it is not always equally easy to avoid doing so, and it\nis a universal experience of history that when there are a number of\ndisorganized and ill-governed units on the borders of a great power,\nthey become inevitably, though it may be gradually and piece by piece,\nabsorbed into the latter. There are, however, financial considerations\nwhich induce the Government to refrain from annexing a country which\nhas few natural resources, can pay little in taxes, and must cost a\ngreat deal to administer.\n\nBut these frontier tribes form some of the finest fighting material\nfrom which the Indian Army is recruited, and it may be that years\nof regular and peaceful administration will destroy the military\nqualities of these people, as has been the case in South India. The\nmany opportunities afforded by the frontier to the Indian Army for\nactive service, and the training that they get in the little frontier\nexpeditions, may also be looked upon by some as a valuable asset.\n\nThe usual sequence of events is as follows: First, the more\nunruly sections of the tribes carry on a series of raids on the\nfrontier villages of India, as has been their custom from time\nimmemorial. Sometimes the miscreants are captured and meet their fate;\nmore often they escape, and, in accordance with the system of tribal\nresponsibility, a fine is put on the tribe from which they come. These\nfines go on accumulating, the tribe running up an account with the\nGovernment for its misdeeds.\n\nThus we come to the second stage, when the patience of the Government\nis exhausted. The tribal heads are called in, and an ultimatum offered\nto them. They must pay so much in fines and deliver the criminals\ndemanded, or an expedition will be organized. Much time--it may be\nmany months--is occupied in councils, while the tribe is endeavouring\nto gain time or to make the terms more favourable.\n\nThe third stage is when the tribe fail to meet the Government's\nconditions, and a punitive expedition is organized against them. This\nexpedition enters their hills, raises their parda, burns their\nvillages, fights a few actions--usually of the nature of ambuscades\nor rearguard actions--realizes more or less of the fine, confiscates\na number of rifles, and comes back again.\n\nThe tribe is now free to commence its depredations afresh with a\nclean sheet, and to begin to run up a new account, and, in order more\neffectually to prevent this and keep a greater control over them,\nthe Government find themselves compelled to enter on the fourth stage,\nwhich is that of annexing some points of vantage where military posts\ncan be erected, which will overawe and control them.\n\nIt is thus that a gradual, though it may be reluctant, annexation of\nterritory becomes inevitable.\n\nThen, it must be remembered that there is always a section of the\ntribe, and often a majority, who are favourable to annexation, for the\nmore settled and peaceful rule of the British brings many advantages\nin its train. While before they were not able to cultivate their crops\nat any distance from the village, and even then only when fully armed,\nnow they are able to till the ground in peace even miles away from\ntheir habitations, and land which was before unculturable becomes\nof great value. They are able to trade and carry on the ordinary\navocations of life with a security to which they have been hitherto\nstrangers. They learn the value of money, and begin to amass wealth.\n\nThere are always, however, two parties in the tribe who are opposed\ntooth and nail to British rule, and as they have got power far\nin excess of their more peacefully disposed brethren, they are\nusually able to terrorize the more peace-loving majority into a\nfalse acquiescence in their own opposition. These two parties are\nthe outlaws and the Mullahs.\n\nThe outlaws have made their living by raiding and robbery for\ngenerations, and have no inclination to give up their profession for\nmore peaceable but less exciting and less profitable employment.\n\nNot only have the Mullahs an antipathy to those whom they consider\nkafirs, or infidels, but they know that under the changed conditions of\nlife, their influence, their power, and their wealth must all suffer.\n\nBesides this, there are two elements in our rule which are\nequally repugnant to all. One is the protection which we give to\nthe money-lender, and the other is the dilatory nature of our\njustice. Usury is unlawful to the Muhammadans, but as they are\nspendthrift and improvident, the Hindus are able to make a living\namong them by lending them money in times of necessity. The Hindu\nwas formerly prevented from charging too high a rate of interest\nor running up too long an account, by the fact that if he did so,\nhis Muhammadan masters, who held the sword, would come one night and\nburn his house over his head, and let him start afresh. Under British\nr\u00e9gime, however, the usurer is protected. He is able to recover his\ndebts from the impecunious Muhammadan by a civil action, and may\nget the latter thrown into prison if he does not pay; while if the\nMuhammadan tries to burn his account-books, he will find himself an\ninmate of His Majesty's gaol.\n\nThe justice which the Muhammadan of the frontier appreciates is a rapid\nand appropriate justice, such as used to be meted out by officers in\nthe days of Nicholson, when the offender might find himself accused,\narrested, judged, and visited with some punishment appropriate to\nthe crime all within the course of a few days. At the present time he\ncan, if rich enough, call in a pleader, and get any number of false\nwitnesses, and his case is inevitably dragged out by the magistrate\nby successive postponements for getting the attendance of these\nwitnesses, or through some technicality of the law; and even when\nhe does--it may be after the lapse of some months--get a judgment,\nthe losing party in the suit is at liberty to bring an appeal to the\nSessions Judge, and from him another appeal can be lodged at the High\nCourt of Lahore, which has so many cases on its lists that it may be\nhis case will not be taken till after the lapse of two or three years.\n\nThe real strength of our administration on the frontier is the\npersonnel of our officers, for it has always been the man, and not\nthe system, that governs the country; and there are names of officers\nnow dead and gone which are still a living power along that frontier,\nbecause they were men who thoroughly knew the people with whom they\nhad to deal, and whose dauntless and strong characters moulded the\ntribes to their will, and exerted such a mesmeric influence over\nthose wild Afghans that they were ready to follow their feringi\nmasters through fire and sword with the most unswerving loyalty,\neven though they were of an alien faith.\n\nAs an example of this, it is related that on a certain frontier\nexpedition the regiments were passing up a defile on a height, above\nwhich some of the enemy had ensconced themselves in ambush behind\ntheir sangars. The Afghans had been soldiers in the Indian Army,\nwho had now completed their service and retired to their hills, and\nwere, as is often the case, using the skill which they had learnt\nin their regiments against us. They were about to fire, when one\nof them recognized the officer riding at the head of the regiment\nas his own Colonel. He stopped the others, and said: \"That is our\nown Karnal Sahib. We must not fire on him or his regiment.\" That\nregiment was allowed to pass in safety, but they opened fire on the\none which succeeded.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE CHRISTIAN'S REVENGE\n\n    Police posts versus dispensaries--The poisoning scare--A\n    native doctor's influence--Wazir marauders spare the mission\n    hospital--A terrible revenge--The Conolly bed--A political\n    mission--A treacherous King--Imprisonment in Bukhara--The\n    Prayer-Book--Martyrdom--The sequel--Influence of the mission\n    hospital--The medical missionary's passport.\n\n\nI was once urging on a certain official the need of a Government\ndispensary in a certain frontier district. \"There is no need there,\"\nhe replied; \"the people are quiet and law-abiding. Now A---, that is a\ndisturbed area: there we ought to have medical work\"--an unintentional\ntestimony to one result of the doctor's work, though rather hard on\nthe law-abiding section of the populace that they should have no\nhope of a hospital unless they can organize a few raids, or get a\nreputation for truculence.\n\nWhich will be better--a punitive police post or a civil\ndispensary? This seems a not very logical conundrum, yet it is based\non sound reasoning, and a well-managed establishment of the latter\nkind will often remove the necessity of setting up the former. The\ndoctor is a confidant in more matters than one, and the right man\nwill often smooth down little frictions and mollify sorenesses which\nbid fair to cause widespread conflagrations.\n\nA medical mission is a pacific, as well as an essentially pioneer,\nagency.\n\nThere was a little missionary dispensary on the frontier, in charge\nof a native doctor, a convert from Muhammadanism, who had gone in\nand out among the people till he was a household friend all down\nthe country-side.\n\nOne day he was sitting in his dispensary seeing out-patients, when\nhe heard the following conversation:\n\nAbdultalib. \"The Sarkar has sent out agents to kill the Mussulmans\nby poisoning their drinking-water.\"\n\nBalyamin. \"Mauzbillah! how do you know that?\"\n\nA. \"Mullah D. arrived last night, and, sitting in the chauk, he told\nhow he had seen a man throwing pills into the well at Dabb village. He\nwent after him, but as soon as the man saw him he ran away.\"\n\nB. \"What is to be done?\"\n\nA. \"First we must tell the women not to draw water from the wells--they\nhave certainly been poisoned in the night--but they can take their\npitchers to the tank in the big mosque; no one would interfere\nwith that.\"\n\nB. \"If we can catch the miscreant, we will show him plainly enough\nwho is the Mussulman and who the infidel.\"\n\nAs the news spread through the village, the excitement grew; women who\nhad already filled their pitchers from the wells hurriedly emptied\nthem and started off afresh to the mosque tank. Guards were placed\nat the well, both to warn the faithful and to give short shrift to\nany hapless stranger on whom suspicion might fall. The men about the\nbazaar had procured thick sticks, and seemed only waiting for the\nopportunity of using them, and things looked black all round. News was\nbrought to the police-station, and, without waiting to don his uniform,\nthe inspector buckled on a revolver, and, taking a constable with him,\nhurried off to the most disturbed portion of the village.\n\nThe men there were sullen, and would give no information, and\ntwo or three of the more truculent seemed inclined to hustle the\npolice-officer. Just then the native doctor appeared on the scene,\nand recognized the gravity of the situation at once. One rash act,\nand the police might have to use their firearms in self-defence. The\npeople, however, trusted the doctor. Had he not often championed them\nwhen subjected to little police tyrannies, and had they not often\nsought counsel from him in their village quarrels, and always found\nhis advice had helped them to come to an amicable settlement? So now,\nwhen he quietly slipped his arm into that of the inspector, and led\nhim out of the dangerous quarter, chatting the while, till he got\nhim safely into a house without loss of official dignity, not even\nthe most truculent tried to resist his passage. Then he returned and\nreasoned with them on the groundlessness of their suspicions. Had any\nof them ever seen anyone throw anything into the wells? Had anyone\neven got a stomach-ache from drinking the water? Did any King ever\nwant to kill off all his own subjects? If so, whom would he rule,\nand where would be his kingdom? Finally, he bantered them out of\ntheir warlike intentions: the sticks were returned home, business\nresumed, the inspector came back as though his authority had never\nbeen questioned, and a very ugly situation was successfully negotiated.\n\nIn the year 1879 the tribe of the Wazirs had been incited by their\nMullahs to rise, and they came down suddenly with their lashkar on\nthe little frontier town of Tank. There was a mission hospital there,\nin charge of an Indian doctor, the Rev. John Williams. Before the\nauthorities could summon the troops the Wazir warriors had overrun\ntown and bazaar, and were burning and looting. Some young bloods went\nfor the mission hospital, but they were at once restrained by the\ntribal elders, who forbade them to meddle with the property of \"our\nown Daktar Sahib,\" as they called him. Had they not often been inmates\nof his hospital and partakers of his hospitality? Not a hair of his\nhead was to be injured. They at once set a guard of their own men on\nthe mission hospital, who warned off any excited tribesmen who might\nhave done it injury, and that was the only place in the bazaar that\nescaped fire and sword and pillage. Some of his surgical instruments\nhad been carried off before the posting of the guard; but upon this\nbeing made known, search was made through Waziristan, and the friends\nof the doctor were not satisfied until all were returned to him.\n\nRevenge is a word sweet to the Afghan ear, and even a revenge satisfied\nby the culminating murder is the sweeter if the fatal blow, preferably\non some dark night, is so managed that the murdered man has a few\nminutes of life in which to realize that he has been outwitted,\nand to hear the words of exultation with which his enemy gluts his\nhatred. In one case that came to my knowledge, after strangling his\nvictim, but before he was quite gone, the murderer dealt his victim a\nterrific blow on his jaw, shattering the bone, with the taunt: \"Do you\nremember the day when I told you I would knock out your teeth for you?\"\n\nIn the autumn of 1907 a fine stalwart Wazir was brought to the Bannu\nMission Hospital in a pitiable state: both of his eyes had been slashed\nabout and utterly blinded with a knife. His story was that his enemies\ncame on him unexpectedly in his cottage one day, beat his wife into\ninsensibility, tied him to a bed, and then deliberately destroyed his\neyes with a knife. His wife came to hospital with him, suffering from\nsevere contusions and some broken ribs, and we put them both into one\nof our small \"family wards\"--so called because father, mother, and\nchildren, if there be any, can all stop together for treatment. It was\npainful to have to tell him that he would never see again, and still\nmore painful to hear him as he piteously said: \"Oh, Sahib, if you can\ngive me some sight only just long enough to go and shoot my enemy,\nthen I shall be satisfied to be blind all the rest of my life.\" It\ncould not be. His lot would probably become that of the numerous\nblind beggars that throng Eastern bazaars; for who would plough his\nland now or speak for him in the village council? Yet of pure pity we\nkept him a few weeks, that he might hear the story of the Gospel of\ngoodwill and forgiveness; but he would shake his head and sigh. \"No,\nthat teaching is not for us. What I want is revenge--revenge!\" Then,\nbecause a concrete case will sometimes accomplish what a mere statement\ncannot effect, I told him the story of the Conolly bed. Over each bed\nis a little framed card denoting the benefactor or supporter of that\nbed and the person commemorated thereby, and over this particular\nbed is written:\n\n\n    Conolly Bed.\n\n    In Memory of Captain Conolly, beheaded at Bukhara.\n\n\nAs long ago as 1841 this brave English officer was sent on a\npolitical mission to Bukhara, which was then an independent State,\nand not under the rule of Russia, as now. The Muhammadan ruler,\nBahadur Khan, affected to be suspicious of his intentions, and threw\nhim into prison, where another English officer, Colonel Stoddart,\nhad already been incarcerated. It was in vain for them to protest\nand to claim the consideration due to a representative of the British\nGovernment; they were met by the answer that no letter had come from\nthe Queen in reply to one sent by the Amir, and that therefore they\nhad certainly come to stir up Khiva and Khokand to war against the\nAmir of Bukhara. Their effects were confiscated; even their very\nclothes were taken from them, till they only had their shirts and\ndrawers left, when a filthy sheepskin was given to Captain Conolly\nas some protection against the winter cold of Bukhara. Their servants\nwere thrown into a horrible dungeon called the Black Well, into which\neach man had to be lowered by a rope from the aperture at the top,\nand was then left to rot in the filth below.\n\nCaptain Conolly managed to secrete a small English Prayer-Book about\nhis person, and this was a daily source of comfort to him and his\ncompanion in prison, and he marked verses in the Psalms and passages in\nthe prayers from which they derived comfort. On the fly-leaves and the\nmargins he wrote a diary of their sufferings; month succeeded month,\nand their hearts grew sick with hope deferred, and their bodies worn\nwith fever, wasting and wounds. On February 10, 1842, he writes:\n\"We have now been fifty-three days and nights without means of\nchanging or washing our linen. This book will probably not leave me,\nso I now will, as opportunity serves, write in it the last blessing of\nmy best affection to all my friends.\" Again, on March 11, he writes:\n\"At first we had viewed the Amir's conduct as perhaps dictated by mad\ncaprice, but now, looking back upon the whole, we saw indeed that it\nhad been the deliberate malice of a demon, questioning and raising\nour hopes and ascertaining our condition, only to see how our hearts\nwere going on in the process of breaking.\n\n\"I did not think to shed one more tear among such cold-blooded men,\nbut yesterday evening, as I looked upon Stoddart's half-naked and\nmuch lacerated body, conceiving that I was the especial object of\nthe King's hatred, because of my having come to him after visiting\nKhiva and Khok, and told him that the British Government was too\ngreat to stir up secret enmity against any of its enemies, I wept on,\nentreating one of our keepers to have conveyed to the chief my humble\nrequest that he would direct his anger upon me, and not further destroy\nby it my poor broken Stoddart, who had suffered so much and so meekly\nhere for three years. My earnest words were answered by a 'Don't cry\nand distress yourself.' He, alas! would do nothing, so we turned and\nkissed each other and prayed together, and we have risen again from our\nknees with hearts comforted, as if an angel had spoken to us, resolved,\nplease God, to wear our English honesty and dignity to the last, within\nall the misery and filth that this monster may try to degrade us with.\"\n\nAgain, on March 28: \"We have been ninety-nine days and nights without\na change of clothes.\"\n\nOne of the native agents of the mission, Salih Muhammad by name,\nsubsequently escaped to India, and thus relates the closing scene of\nthe tragedy.\n\n\"On Tuesday night (June 14, 1842) their quarters were entered by\nseveral men, who stripped them and carried them off, but I do not know\nwhether it was to the Black Well or to some other prison. In stripping\nColonel Stoddart a lead pencil was found in the lining of his coat\nand some papers in his waist. These were taken to the Amir, who gave\norders that he should be beaten with heavy sticks till he disclosed\nwho brought the papers, and to whom he wrote. He was most violently\nbeaten, but he revealed nothing. He was beaten repeatedly for two or\nthree days. On Friday the Amir gave orders that Colonel Stoddart should\nbe killed in the presence of Captain Conolly, who should be offered\nhis life if he would become a Muhammadan. In the afternoon they were\ntaken outside the prison into the street, which is a kind of small\nsquare. Their hands were tied across in front. Many people assembled\nto behold the spectacle. Their graves were dug before their eyes.\n\n\"Colonel Stoddart's head was then cut off with a knife. The chief\nexecutioner then turned to Captain Conolly and said: 'The Amir spares\nyour life if you will become a Mussulman.' Captain Conolly answered:\n'I will not be a Mussulman, and I am ready to die!' saying which he\nstretched forth his neck, and his head was then struck off. Their\nbodies were then interred in the graves which had been dug.\"\n\nFor a long time the fate of these two officers was unknown in England,\nand, indeed, overshadowed by the greater disaster in Kabul. Then a\nmissionary, the Rev. Joseph Wolff, undertook a journey to Bukhara,\nand after many sufferings and dangers, ascertained that they had been\nmurdered two years before. He did not, however, come across the little\nPrayer-Book, which appears to have been lying about in some shop in\nBukhara for seven years after the officers' death, when a Russian\nofficer, passing through the bazaar, happened to light on it. He\npicked it up, and, observing its interesting nature, purchased it\nfrom the shopkeeper. For another fourteen years the little book was\nlying on his table at St. Petersburg, when a visitor who knew Captain\nConolly's relations saw it, and obtained leave to take the precious\nrelic and place it in the hands of the relatives of the deceased;\nand thus, twenty-one years after her brother's death, Miss Conolly\nobtained the full account of his sufferings, written with his own hand.\n\nSo far no vengeance had been exacted for the Amir's atrocity; now the\nmurdered man's sister thought she would like to have her revenge, so\nwhen the Bannu Mission Hospital was inaugurated, she wrote out to the\nmedical missionary, expressing her desire to support a bed in memory\nof her brother, and that bed has been supported in his name ever\nsince, and we tell the Afghans in it that that is the Christian's\nRevenge. When I sit by the bedside of some sick or wounded Afghan\nin that bed, and tell him and the others round him that it was their\nco-religionists who killed this officer because he would not forsake\nChristianity for Islam, and that now his sister is paying for them\nto be nursed and tended, and praying for them that they may learn\nof the Saviour who bid us forgive our enemies, and do good to those\nwho despitefully use us and persecute us, then it is easy to see that\nthe story has set them thinking. And when it is further brought home\nby their experiences in the mission hospital, where they have been\nlovingly tended by the very native converts whom they have abused and\nperhaps maltreated in the bazaar, they return to their Afghan homes\nwith very different feelings towards Christians.\n\nIt is thus that the medical missionary gets his passport to all\ntheir villages, not only in British India, but across the border\namong the independent tribes. While visiting a Wazir chief once in\nhis border fort, he said to me: \"You can do what we cannot possibly\ndo. I cannot go into that village over there, because I have enmity\nwith the people there. The chief of that tribe across the river a\nfew miles off has a blood-feud with me, and I have always to go armed\nand with a guard lest he should waylay me; at night I cannot leave my\nfort, but have to sleep ready armed in my tower. And I am like most\nof us in this country: we all have our enemies, and never know when\nwe may meet them. But you can go into any of our villages and among\nall the tribes, although you have not even got a revolver with you,\nand, more than that, you get a welcome, too.\"\n\nIn some parts of the country across the border it is necessary to take\na fresh guide every few miles, as the various villages are on bad\nterms, and might injure the traveller on the lands of the opposing\nvillage merely in order to get their enemies involved in a feud, or\ninto trouble with the Government. These guides are called badragga,\nand within the tribal boundary any member of the clan, even a child,\nis often sufficient protection, as that is sufficient to show that the\ntraveller has received the sanction of the tribe to move about within\ntheir boundaries. If, however, marauding bands are known to be about,\nor if the tribe is at feud with a neighbouring one, then they will\nsend a fully-armed badragga of several men with you. I have, however,\nseen a traveller consigned to the care of a boy of nine years or so,\nand, no doubt, with perfect security.\n\nOn one occasion when it had been arranged that the badragga of a\ncertain clan was to meet me at a prearranged rendezvous, I arrived\nat the appointed time and place under the care of the badragga of\nthe clan through whose territories I had just passed, but no one\nwas forthcoming. We waited an hour or so, but still no one came;\nmy badragga then accompanied us a little way forward till we came in\nview of the first village of the next clan. Here they stopped and said:\n\"We can go no farther. If we were to go into that village, there would\nvery likely be bloodshed, as there is enmity between us and them;\nbut we will sit at the top of this knoll here and watch you while you\ngo on to the village, and if anyone interferes with you on the way\nwe will shoot.\" I went on with an Indian hospital assistant who was\nwith me, and when nearing the village a man came up and shook hands\nwith great heartiness, saying: \"Don't you remember me? I brought my\nbrother to your hospital when he was shot and his leg broken, and\nwe were with you for two months.\" He brought me to the village and\nto his brother, who hobbled out on a crutch to meet us, and was very\npleased. They insisted on our stopping while they called some of the\nother villagers, who were anxious to see the doctor, and finally sent\nus forward on our journey with a fresh escort and a hearty \"God-speed.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nA DAY IN THE WARDS\n\n    The truce of suffering--A patient's request--Typical cases--A\n    painful journey--The biter bit--The conditions of amputation--\"I\n    am a better shot than he is\"--The son's life or revenge--The\n    hunter's adventure--A nephew's devotion--A miserly patient--An\n    enemy converted into a friend--The doctor's welcome.\n\n\nAs I have already said, the Afghans never forget their tribal feuds\nexcept in the presence of foes from without. Then they may put them\naside for a while, especially if their foe be not Mussulman in faith,\nbut only for a while. The feuds begin again as soon as the danger\nis past.\n\nBut in the wards of the mission hospital all this is changed, and\nhere may be seen representatives of all the frontier tribes chatting\nfraternally together, who as likely as not would be lying in ambush\nfor one another if they were a few miles off across the frontier. But\nit is generally recognized among them that feuds are to be forgotten in\nhospital; and accordingly the doctor gets an audience from half a dozen\ndifferent tribes in one ward when he is drawing out the conversation\nfrom the land of feuds to the Prince of Peace, and when he contrasts\nthe Gospel of loving your neighbour with their rule of \"shoot your\nneighbour and get his rifle.\" They say in a half-apologetic tone:\n\"True; but God has decreed that there shall always be discord among\nthe Afghans, so what can we do?\" Sometimes a patient will say: \"I\nwant to be in a ward that has no windows, because I am afraid that\none of my enemies may come at night when the lamp is burning in the\nward and shoot me through the window by its light.\"\n\nGreat as is the variety of physiognomy, of dress, and of dialect,\neven more diverse are the complaints for which they come. Eye\ndiseases form more than a quarter of the whole, and few cases give\nso much satisfaction both to surgeon and patient as these, in many\nof which the surgeon is able to restore sight that has been lost for\nyears, and to send the patient back to his home rejoicing and full\nof gratitude. Here is a Bannuchi malik suffering from consumption, a\nnot uncommon complaint in their crowded villages; next him is a Wazir\nlad from the hills, Muhammad Payo by name, suffering from chronic\nmalarial poisoning. He is an old acquaintance, as he returns to his\nhome when he feels strong enough, and then, what with coarse fare and\nexposure (for he is a poor lad), soon relapses and comes back to us\nat death's door, as white as a sheet, and has to be nursed back again\nto vigour. Just now he is convalescent, and is going about the ward\ndoing little services for the other patients, and telling them what to\ndo and what not to do, as though he had been in the hospital all his\nlife. Poor fellow! he has lost both his parents in a village raid,\nand would have been dead long ago himself but for the open door of\nthe mission hospital.\n\nIn another bed is a fair-haired, blue-eyed boy of twelve from Khost,\nsuffering from disease of the bones of his right leg, which he has\nnot been able to put to the ground for two years. His home is eighty\nmiles away across the mountains, and he had no one to bring him to\nBannu, though he had begged some of the traders to let him sit on one\nof their baggage camels; but who was going to inconvenience himself\nwith a friendless boy like that? He had heard such wonderful stories\nof the cures effected in the Bannu Hospital from a man in his village\nwho had been an inmate for six weeks for an ulcer of the leg, that he\ndetermined to get there by hook or by crook, and he had accomplished\nthe greater part of the journey crawling on his hands and knees,\nwith an occasional lift from some friendly horseman, and had been six\nweeks on the road, begging a dinner here and a night's lodging there\nfrom the villages through which he passed. When he arrived, his state\ncan be better imagined than described: the weary, suffering look of\nhis face; the few dirty rags that covered him; the malodorous wound\non his leg, full of maggots, bound round with the last remains of his\npagari; while now there is no brighter, happier boy in the hospital,\nwith his white hospital shirt and pyjamas, clean, gentle face and\npleasant smile, as he moves about from bed to bed with his crutch,\nchatting with the other patients.\n\nPassing on, we see a big swarthy Afghan, with fine martial features,\nin which suffering is gradually wearing out the old truculent air. He\nhad gone armed with a friend one night to a village where there was\na Militia guard. He maintains that they had merely gone to visit a\nfriend, and had been delayed on the road till night overtook them;\nbut to be out armed at night is of itself sufficient to raise a\nprima-facie case against a man on the border, and when the Militia\nsoldiers challenged him, and instead of replying he and his friend\ntook cover, it was so clear to the former that they must be marauders,\nthat they opened fire. The friend escaped, but our patient received\na bullet through the left thigh, which shattered the bone. He was not\nbrought to the mission hospital for some time, and when we first saw\nhim it was obvious that unless the limb were speedily removed, his\ndays were numbered. He, like all Afghans, had an innate repugnance\nto amputation, but finally consented on condition that the amputated\nlimb should be given to him to take back to his home, that it might\nultimately be interred in his grave; only thus, he thought, would he\nbe safe from being a limb short in the next world. Once I tried to\nargue an Afghan out of this illogical idea, and when other arguments\nfailed, I suggested that the unsavoury object might be buried in a\nspot in the mission compound, and he might leave a note in his grave\nspecifying where it might be found. He answered at once: \"Do you\nsuppose the angels will have nothing better to do on the Resurrection\nDay than going about looking for my leg? And even if they would take\nthe trouble, they would not come into this heretic place for it.\"\n\nSo the limb was removed and carefully wrapped up and stored away\nsomewhere, so that he might on recovery take it back with him to\nhis village. His wound is nearly healed now, and he has sent off his\nsister, who was in hospital to nurse him, to his home to fetch a horse\non which to ride back the forty miles to his village, where he will\nwile away many a long winter's night with stories of his experiences\nin the Bannu Mission Hospital, and how kind the feringis were to him.\n\nAmong Afghans a man's nearest relations are often his deadliest\nenemies, and \"he hates like a cousin\" is a common expression. Thus\nit came to pass that one day a wounded Afghan was brought to the\nmission hospital on a bed borne of four, and examination showed\na serious condition. He had been shot at close quarters the night\nbefore while returning to his house from the mosque after evening\nprayers. The bullet had passed completely through the left side of\nthe chest, the left lung was collapsed, and the patient was blanched\nand faint from the severe bleeding that had occurred. A compress\nof charred cloth and yolk of egg had been applied, through which\nthe red stream was slowly trickling. He believed he had been shot\nby his uncle, with whom he had a dispute about the possession of a\nfield, but had not seen his face clearly. A room was got ready, the\npatient's blood-saturated garments were replaced by hospital linen,\nand the wound was cleansed and dressed.\n\nFor a long time he hovered between life and death, constantly attended\nby two brothers, who, if they had been as instructed as they were\nassiduous, would have made two very excellent nurses. Gradually,\nhowever, he recovered strength, and the wound healed; and one day\nwhen visiting his ward I found him sitting up with a smile on his\nface, and after the usual greetings, he said: \"Please come to me,\nSahib; I have a request to make.\" I sat by his bedside, and asked\nwhat I could do for him. He drew me closely to him, and said in a\nsubdued voice: \"Sahib, I want you to get me some cartridges; see,\nhere are four rupees I have brought for them.\" \"Why, what do you\nwant them for?\" said I. \"Look here,\" said he, pointing to the wound\nin his chest; \"here is this score to pay off. I am stronger now,\nand in a few days I can go home and have my revenge.\"\n\nI said to him deprecatingly: \"Cannot you forego your revenge after all\nthe good counsels you have been hearing while in hospital? We have,\nafter so much trouble and nursing, cured you, and now, I suppose,\nin a few days we shall be having your uncle brought here on a bed\nlikewise, and have to take the same trouble over him.\" \"Don't fear\nthat, Sahib,\" was the prompt reply; \"I am a better shot than he\nis.\" Well, we never did have to deal with that uncle, though I never\ngave him the cartridges; probably he got them elsewhere.\n\nAnother day a similar cort\u00e8ge came to the hospital. This time the\nman on the bed was a fine young Pathan of about twenty summers, and\nhis father--a greybeard, with handsome but stern features, and one\narm stiffened from an old sword-cut on the shoulder--accompanied the\nbearers, carefully shielding his son's face from the sun with an old\numbrella. His was a long-standing feud with the malik of a village\nhard by, and he had been shot through the thigh at long range while\ntending his flocks on the mountain-side. It had happened four days ago,\nbut the journey being a difficult one, they had delayed bringing him;\nand meanwhile they had slain a goat, and, stripping the skin off the\ncarcass, had bound it round the injured limb with the raw side against\nthe flesh. Under the influence of the hot weather the discharges\nfrom the wound and the reeking skin had brought about a condition of\naffairs which made bearers and bystanders, all except the father and\nthe doctor, wind their turbans over their mouths and noses as soon as\nthe hospital dresser began to unfold and cut through the long folds\nof greasy pagari which bound the limb to an improvised splint and\nthat to the bed. It was a severe compound fracture of the thigh-bone,\nwith collateral injuries, and I called the father aside and said:\n\"The only hope of your son's life is immediate amputation. If I\ndelay, the limb will mortify, and he will certainly die.\" The old\nman, visibly restraining his emotion, said: \"If you amputate the leg,\ncan you promise me that he will recover?\" \"No,\" I said; \"even then he\nmight die, for the injury is severe, and he is weak from loss of blood;\nbut without amputation there is no hope.\" \"Then,\" said the father,\n\"let it be as God wills: let him die, for, by our tribal custom,\nif he dies as he is I can go and shoot my enemy; but if he dies from\nyour operation then I could not, and I want my revenge.\" After this\nthey would not even accept my offer of keeping the wounded lad in\nthe hospital to nurse, but bore him away as they had brought him, so\nthat he might die at home among his people, and then--well, the mind\npictured the stealthy form crouching behind the rock; the hapless\ntribesman of the other village with his rifle loaded and slung on\nhis shoulder right enough, but who was to warn him of his lurking\nenemy? And then the shot, the cry, and exultation.\n\nA man of the Khattak tribe was out on the hills with a friend after\nmountain goats; he tracked one, but in following it up passed over into\nthe hills of a section of the Wazir tribe. He was passing along one\nof those deep gorges which the mountain torrents have worn through\nthe maze of sandstone ridges, where the stunted acacia and tufted\ngrass afford pasturage to little else than the mountain goats, when\nhis practised eye descried two heads looking over the ridge four\nhundred feet above him. Seeing they were observed, the two Wazirs\nstood up and challenged them.\n\n\"Who called you to come poaching in our country?\" \"I shall come\nwhen I choose, without asking your permission,\" retorted the\nKhattak. \"Swine! has your father turned you out because there was no\nmaize in your corn-bin?\" The Khattak retorted with something stronger,\nand each proceeded to impugn the character of the other's female\nrelations, till the Wazir, thinking he had excited the Khattak to\ngive him sufficient provocation, sent a bullet whistling past his\nhead. The Khattak made a jump for the cover of a neighbouring rock,\nbut before he had time to gain shelter a second bullet had struck\nhim in the leg, bringing him headlong to earth. His companion had got\nthe shelter of a rock and opened fire on the Wazirs; but the latter,\nthinking they had sufficiently vindicated the privacy of their stony\nhills, made off another way.\n\nThe Khattak could do no more than lift his friend into the shelter\nof a cliff, stanch the bleeding with a piece torn from his pagari,\nand make off in hot haste for his village to sound a chigah and bring\na bed on which the wounded man might be carried home. The chigah, of\ncourse, came too late to track the Wazirs, but they bore the wounded\nman home, and next morning brought him to the mission hospital. He lay\nthere for three months, carefully tended by his father and a brother,\nand there all three were attentive listeners to the daily exposition\nof the Gospel by the doctor or catechist; but the wounded man got\nweaker and weaker, and when it became clear to all that his recovery\ncould not be hoped for, they took him off to his home to die.\n\nThe next day a Wazir of the same tribe that had shot him was brought\nin suffering from an almost identical gunshot wound, and we thought\nat first it had been the work of an avenger, but it proved to have\nbeen received in another feud about the possession of a few ber-trees\n(Zizyphus jujuba). This Wazir submitted to amputation, and is now\ngoing about the hills the proud possessor of an artificial limb from\nEngland, which his father sold a rifle to buy, and which is the wonder\nand admiration of his neighbours.\n\nThe devotion shown in some cases by relations who have accompanied\nsome sick or wounded man to hospital is very touching, and in pleasing\ncontrast to their frequent enmity. One case that imprinted itself on\nmy memory was that of a man from Kabul, who had been a sufferer for\nseveral years from severe fistula; his nearest relation was a nephew,\nand he was a talib (student). Both were poor, but the man sold up\nsome little household belongings and hired a camel-driver to bring\nhim down on his camel. The journey to Bannu occupied fourteen days,\nand the sick man suffered much from the constraint and jolting of the\ncamel-ride. An operation was performed, but it was some months before\nthe patient was cured and discharged, and during all that time he was\nassiduously nursed by the talib, who sat day and night by his bedside,\nattending to his wants and reading to him either the Suras of the\nQuran or some Persian poet, only leaving him to go into some mosque\nin Bannu, or in a village near, where some charitable Muhammadans\nwould give him his morning and evening meal.\n\nTo save the patients from the danger of having their money stolen by\nother patients or visitors, we advise them on admission to give up\ntheir money into our charge, to be kept safely until they get their\ndischarge, when it is returned to them. Usually they readily agree to\nthis, but sometimes we have some wary characters, usually Kabulis or\nPeshawuris, whose experience of the world has led them to trust no one,\nand these refuse to let their possessions out of their own keeping,\nusually securing their money in a bag purse tied round their waist\nunder their clothes. One such Kabuli came into the hospital terribly\nill with dysentery. Fearing, I suppose, we might take his money by\nforce, he swore, in answer to the usual question, that he had not\na single anna on him, and all through his illness he begged a few\npice from us or from other patients to buy some little delicacy he\nfancied to supplement the regular hospital diet. He said he had no\nrelations or friends living; \"all had died,\" and certainly none ever\ncame to inquire after him. His disease resisted all our efforts to cure\nit--he had been worn out with exposure and hard living--and at last,\none morning, we found him dead in his bed; he had passed away quietly\nin the night, without even the patient in the bed next him knowing\nof it. We then found a bag containing eighty rupees bound round his\nwaist; he had kept it carefully concealed from everyone throughout,\nand now died leaving behind him what might have purchased him so many\nlittle delicacies. There being no claimant for the money, we made it\ninto a fund for helping indigent patients to get back to their more\ndistant homes.\n\nThere was once a Mullah in Bannu who was particularly virulent in\nhis public denunciations of the mission and everything connected\nwith it. He would frequently give public lectures which were tirades\nagainst all Christians, and missionaries in particular, telling the\npeople that if they died in the mission hospital they would assuredly\ngo to hell, and all the mission medicine they drank would be turned\ninto so much lead, which would drag them relentlessly down, down\nto the bottomless pit--and very much more in that strain. We were\ntherefore somewhat surprised when one fine morning we beheld four\nwhite-robed talibs bringing a bed to the hospital, on which was a form\ncovered by a white sheet, and on lifting the sheet, there was this\nvery Mullah! We did not ask him awkward questions, but admitted him\nat once, and I think our Christian assistants throughout his long and\ndangerous illness showed him particular attentions, and nursed him with\nspecial care. They never taunted him with his former attitude to us,\nbut strove, by the exhibition of Christian forbearance and sympathy,\nto give him a practical exposition of what Christianity is. When he\nleft the hospital he thanked us in the presence of his disciples,\noffered a prayer for blessing on the hospital, and is now one of our\nstaunchest friends.\n\nHere is a very sad case in Bed 18, called \"the Gleaners' Bed,\" because\nit is supported by the Gleaners' Union of Lambeth: A young man of\ntwenty-five or thirty, blind from his birth, and yet brought to the\nhospital cruelly slashed in several places with sword and knife; one\ncut on the right shoulder went through the muscle down to the bone. And\nthis was done only to rob him of the few things he possessed. Had the\nculprit known that the man was blind, let us hope he would not have\nbeen so brutal, but poor Mirzada was on the ground asleep, covered up\nwith a sheet, as is the custom with the natives, and had been attacked\nin this way before he could escape or beg them to spare him. It was\nso sad to see him stretched moaning on his bed, with eyes that had\nnever seen the light or the beauty of God's creation, heart that had\nnever felt, ear that had never heard of the \"Light of Life\" or the\n\"glory that shall be revealed.\" Our Christian assistants sat beside\nhim day by day, and told him of Christ and His love; but he never,\nso far as we could judge, seemed to grasp the truth for himself, and,\nwhen his wounds were healed, left us to beg by the wayside. We pray for\nMirzada, \"who sitteth by the wayside begging,\" that he may yet find\nthe Light! He at least has learnt to bless the mission hospital and\nthe Christian friends in England, through whose charity he can say:\n\"I was a stranger, and ye took me in; sick, and ye visited me.\"\n\nThe doctor or his assistants may go a long journey up and down the\nfrontier and both sides of the border without coming to a village\nwhere they will not get a hearty welcome from some old patient. He\nwill be made to sit down for a little good cheer in the village chauk,\nthat the grateful patient may call his acquaintances round to shake\nhands with the Daktar Sahib, whose patient he was while in the mission\nhospital, and with stories about whom he has so often regaled them\nin the winter evenings.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nFROM MORNING TO NIGHT\n\n    First duties--Calls for the doctor--Some of the\n    out-patients--Importunate blind--School classes--Operation\n    cases--Untimely visitors--Recreation--Cases to decide.\n\n\nAn Eastern day begins early. As the first streak of dawn lightens the\nEastern sky the slumberers are awakened by the long-drawn-out chant of\nthe Muezzin calling to prayer from all the mosques in the city. \"God\nis great, God is great. I give witness there is no God but God. I\ngive witness that Muhammad is the prophet of God. Come to prayer;\nprayer is better than sleep.\" And forthwith every pious Muslim hastily\nrises, performs the necessary ablutions, and commences the day with\nascription of praise to the Creator. The Hindus follow suit: little\nbells tinkle in their temples as their priests rouse the slumbering\nGods, or as the Puritanical Arya Samajist offers his early sacrifice\nof \"Hawan,\" or incense. Meanwhile, the church bell calls the little\nChristian community together for early morning worship, and they\nunite in prayer and praise before separating, each to his or her\nown sphere of work for the day. If the missionary desires a morning\n\"quiet time\" he must get up early enough to get it in before this,\nas after morning service the busy round of duties leaves him little\nleisure till the evening shades close in.\n\nDarya Khan, the \"Lord of the Rivers,\" the hospital cook, is waiting\nfor the day's supplies, and reports fifty patients on full diet,\ntwenty on middle, and fifteen on milk diet. So many cases have left\nthe hospital, so many admitted; such a one died last night. And so\nthe supplies for the day are measured out and weighed, and orders\ngiven for the purchase of fresh goods as needed.\n\nThen come the ward clerks, with their tale of soiled linen and case\nsheets to be checked, and clean towels, bandages, bed-linen, and\nclothes for the in-patients have to be dealt out according to the\nneeds of each one.\n\nThis over, the head gardener, 'Alam Khan, or the \"Lord of the\nWorld,\" is standing by with the day's supply of vegetables and\nflowers, and these have to be apportioned to the patients in the\nhospital and to the various members of the staff whose families\nreside on the premises. He follows with a string of questions, each\nof which requires due consideration, such as, \"Are the mulberries\nto be shaken yet?\" \"Where are the young Pipul tree saplings to be\nplanted?\" \"Some oranges were stolen in the night; would I come and\nsee the footmarks?\" \"A hostel boy ('Light of Religion') was caught\namong the plum-trees with some fruit in his pocket. Would I punish\nhim?\" And so on, as long as one has leisure to listen and adjudicate.\n\nThe clock strikes eight, leaving just half an hour to visit the wards\nbefore out-patients begin. There is the abdominal section operation\nof yesterday to examine; the house-surgeon has come to report that the\ncase of tubercular glands has had a h\u00e6morrhage during the night. We are\njust hurrying over to see them, when up comes 'Alam Gul, the \"Flower\nof the Earth,\" to say his brother was coming down from the roof that\nmorning, when his foot slipped on the ladder; he fell on his head,\nand was lying unconscious. Would I go and see him? The serious cases\nseen, and 'Alam Gul's brother visited, the out-patient department is\ndemanding our attention. The verandahs are full of patients, the men\nin one and the women and children in another, and while the catechist\nis preaching to the former, a Bible-woman is similarly engaged with\nthe latter. Outside are some patients lying on the native beds, or\ncharpais, and a variety of other equipages which have all brought\npatients--palanquins, camels, oxen, asses, and so on.\n\nLet us see some of these. Here is a Wazir shepherd from the\nmountains. He has been shot through the thigh while tending his flocks,\nand eight rough-looking tribesmen of his have bound him securely on a\nbed and carried him down, journeying all night through, and they have\nleft their rifles, without which they could not have ventured out,\nat the police post on the frontier. Another of those on the beds is a\nman of about fifty years, suffering from dropsy. He has been carried\nsixty miles on this bed from Khost, a district in Afghanistan. A third,\nwho has been brought from another transfrontier village on an ox, is\nsuffering from a tumour of his leg, which will require amputation. And\nso on with some half-dozen others. After this brief examination,\nsaying a word of welcome to the travel-stained Afghans who have borne\ntheir precious burdens in with so much labour, and even danger, and\nwith a word of comfort and reassurance to the sick ones themselves,\nthe doctor enters his consulting-room, and the patients are brought in\none by one to be examined. Those requiring in-patient treatment are\nsent off to the wards, and the remainder get the required medicines,\nor have their wounds dressed and leave for their homes.\n\nA great number of the out-patients are cases of eye disease, and\nsometimes four or five blind men will come in a line, holding on to\neach other, and led by one who is not yet quite blind. Very likely\nthey have trudged painfully upwards of a hundred miles, stumbling over\nthe stones in the mountain roads, and arriving with wounded feet and\nbruised bodies. They sit together, listening, perhaps for the first\ntime in their lives, to the Gospel address, and eagerly awaiting\nthe interview with the doctor, when they will hear if they are to\nreceive their sight there and then, or to undergo an operation,\nor what. For the stories they have heard of the power of Western\nskill lead them to believe that if the doctor does not cure them on\nthe spot it must be that he is too busy or they are too poor. When,\ntherefore, as sometimes happens, the doctor sees at the first glance\nthat the case is a hopeless one, and that the sight is gone never to\nbe brought back, it is a painful duty to have to explain the fact to\nthe patient, and often the doctor needlessly prolongs the examination\nof the eye lest the man should think that it was want of interest\nin his case that makes the doctor say he can do nothing. And then\nthe beseeching, \"Oh, sahib, just a little sight!\" \"See, I can tell\nlight from darkness; I can see the light from that window there.\" \"I\nhave come all the way from Kabul because they said the feringi doctor\ncould cure everything. Why do you not cure me?\"\n\nOne man refused to budge till I had taken him to see my mother; she\nmight be able to do something--she must have more skill than I, for\nfrom whom had I learnt? Another went to her to beg her to intercede\nwith me for him, because he was sure it was want of will, not want\nof power, that prevented him gaining his end. At last, when they\nare convinced that nothing can be done, it is touching to see them\nas they resignedly say, often with tears rolling down their cheeks:\n\"It is God's will. I will be patient.\" Then they may begin their weary\ntrudge home again, or stop in the Bannu bazaar for a few days to beg\nsome money to get them a lift on a camel for part of the long journey.\n\nA commotion at the door, and a Bannuchi boy of about seven is\ncarried in on the shoulders of his father, with his hand tied up in\nthe folds of a turban. \"We were crushing sugar-cane in our press,\nwhen my beloved Mir Jahan got his hand in the cogs of the wheel,\nand it was all crushed before we could stop the buffalo. Oh! do see\nhim quick--he is my only son, a piece of my liver!\" And the father\nbursts into tears. Mir Jahan is chloroformed at once, the bandages\nunbound, and a terrible sight we see; the hand has been crushed into\na pulp, but the thumb is only a little cut. That will enable him to\npull the trigger of a rifle when he grows up, and that is what his\nfather and he consider of great importance. So the thumb is saved,\nand the mangled remains of the other fingers removed, and a shapely\nstump fashioned. It is fortunate that the Bannuchis have not much\nmachinery. This sugar-press is almost the only piece they have, and\nwe get several crushed hands every year as a result, usually because\nthey let their children play in dangerous proximity to the wheels,\nand then leave them to \"Qismet\" (Fate).\n\nMeanwhile, perhaps, some big chief has come in with several\nattendants. He wants to have a special consultation with the doctor,\nand has to be treated with as many of the formalities of Oriental\ncourtesy as the doctor can find time for. He gives some fee for the\nhospital, or perhaps may send one or two ox-burdens of wheat or Indian\ncorn as his contribution to the hospital stores.\n\nThe patients are still coming, when a schoolboy comes to say that it\nis time for the doctor to take his classes in school. It is not every\nmission station that can provide a distinct European missionary for the\nschool, and Bannu is one of those where the supervision of the school\nis one of the duties of the medical missionary, who takes the senior\nclasses in Scripture, English, and Science. So the consulting-room\nis changed for the class-room, and the missionary finds himself\nsurrounded by a class of twenty to twenty-five intelligent young\nfellows preparing for the matriculation at the Panjab University, and\nwaiting to be initiated into the mysteries of optics, or chemistry,\nor mechanics, or to practise English composition, or he may have them\nattentively listening while he goes with them through the ever-fresh\nstories from the life of our Lord, hearing and asking them questions\nas its inimitable teachings are brought home to them by precept and\nby illustration. Class-work over, a visit of inspection is paid to\nthe other class-rooms, where the remainder of the school staff are at\ntheir work, which the school principal must criticize and supervise,\ngiving some advice here, some correction there, and seeing generally\nthat everything is kept up to the mark.\n\nNow we must go to see what progress has been made with the new ward\nwhich is being built in the hospital. The beams must be selected and\ntested. Here a carpenter has been putting some bad work into a lintel,\nthinking it will not be noticed; there the bricklayers have been idle,\nand have not finished the stipulated number of layers. The foreman\nhas a complaint to make of some of the coolies, who went away from\nwork without his permission. \"We only went to say our prayers. Surely\nyou would not have us miss them?\" they plausibly urge. Put them on\npiecework, and their prayers are got over very quickly; but pay them\nby the day, and even the ablutions seem interminable! But such is human\nnature, and they have such an air of injured innocence it is difficult\nto be angry with them. They are Mahsud Wazirs from over the border, and\nwork hard when well managed, so are let off with a warning this time.\n\nThis done, a visit must be paid to the mission press. Here not only\nis printing in vernacular and in English carried on for the mission's\nown requirements, but work is executed for the various offices and\nmerchants in the city. Accounts have to be checked, bills have to be\nmade out, proofs have to be corrected, and directions given for the\nday's work.\n\nNow it is time to visit the hospital wards, and perform the day's\noperations.\n\nUsually, patients are operated on the same day that they are\nadmitted. If this were not done, not only would the wards become\nhopelessly congested, but in many cases the courage of the patients\nwould ooze out of their fingers' ends, and, instead of finding them\nready for the ordeal, one would be greeted by \"I have just heard that\nmy father has been taken seriously ill. If I do not go home at once,\nI shall never see him again.\" Another: \"I quite forgot to arrange\nfor my donkey to get hay during my absence. I will go home and make\narrangements for it, and return in two days.\" Of course, one knows\nthat these stories are pure fabrications, but it would be useless to\ntell them so, or to argue; one can only return them their own clothes,\ntake back the hospital linen, and let them go. Sometimes they come\nback later on, and tell more fibs about their father or their donkey\nin justification of themselves; more often they are not seen again.\n\nWhile the operation cases are being prepared by the house-surgeon,\nthe doctor goes the round of the wards, examining, prescribing, and\nsaying words of cheer from bed to bed. This done, he is just about\nto commence operations, when a man comes running up to say that his\nbrother was out shooting when his gun exploded, blowing off his hand;\nwould the doctor see him at once lest he bled to death? and close\nbehind him is the wounded man brought up on a bed. The doctor examines\nhim, sets a dresser to apply a temporary dressing, and perhaps a\ntourniquet, so that the case may safely wait till the conclusion of\nthe other operations.\n\nThe operation cases to-day are representative of an average day in\nthe busy time of the year: they begin with five old men and three\nwomen suffering from cataract, then two cases of incurved lids,\nthen an amputation, the removal of a tumour, and two cases of bone\ndisease. These over, the man with the injured hand is chloroformed\nand the wound stitched up, except for two fingers, which were so\ndamaged that they had to be removed altogether.\n\nThe schoolboys are out now in the field playing football, and the\ndoctor, after refreshing himself with a cup of tea, thinks that nothing\nwould be more invigorating than a good hour's exercise with them; but\nhe has scarcely got his togs on before the servant comes to announce\nthat a certain big malik, or chief, has come to make a call. One would\nlike to put him off with an excuse for a more convenient time; but then\nit was he who gave us lodging and hospitality when itinerating in his\nneighbourhood six months ago, and this would be a poor return for his\ncourtesy; so he is ushered in, with four or five of his retainers,\nand some minutes are spent in formal courtesies and talking about\nnothing in particular. Then, just as one is going to suggest that\nas one has something to do the interview might terminate, he comes\nto the point and object of his interview. He has got a lawsuit on in\none of the local courts against a neighbouring malik. His case is an\nabsolutely just one; but as the other party have some relationship with\nthe head-clerk of the Judge's office, he fears he will not get justice,\nunless--unless--- Would I just write a few lines to the Judge, asking\nhim to give his case full consideration? It would be no trouble to me,\nand would confer a benefit on him which he will remember to his dying\nday. One launches into an explanation, which is wearying because one\nhas so often given it in similar cases before, that the Judge would\nbe very angry if I adopted such a method of influencing his case,\nthat if his case is a just one there is no need of such measures,\nthat he must rely on the integrity of his witnesses, and so on; no,\nhe cannot or will not understand why you profess friendship with him,\nand yet refuse so very humble a request as the writing of a note. By\nthe time the visitor has departed only half an hour is left for the\ngame of football, and there is a man waiting to take you to a case\nof pneumonia at the other side of the bazaar, and two other calls\nhave to be made on medical cases in the city.\n\nIt is evening now, and once more the church-bell collects the\nlittle Christian community together for the evening hymn of praise\nand worship, and the pastor gives some words of instruction and\nencouragement, specially intended for the catechumens and inquirers\nwho are present.\n\nAt last, however, these duties accomplished, dinner is\nnegotiated, and then the doctor can sit down to his newspaper\nand his correspondence. He is not, however, long left free from\ninterruption. The first to come is the superintendent of the\nboarding-house; he reports that some of the Hindu boarders have\nbeen cooking meat in the school saucepan, and now the vegetarian\nparty refuse to eat food cooked in that vessel, which has ipso facto\nbecome unclean.\n\nThe arguments of both sides are heard, and the case decided, that the\nmeat party are to provide their own saucepan. Then the house-surgeon\ncomes in with his nightly report of the wards, stating the condition\nof the operation cases or of any other serious cases, and taking the\norders for the night. Following on him comes a catechumen who has a\nquarter of an hour's instruction every night; then three of the senior\nboarders, to ask some questions about the English composition for the\nmorrow, and get some hints for their essays. Lastly, the night-watchman\ncomes to report that, as there is a gang of Wazir marauders about,\nspecial precautions must be taken for the security of the compound;\nbut he thinks that if I get him a new pistol and some cartridges all\nwill be safe.\n\nA day such as I have described is not at all above the average during\nthe busy months of the year, and the doctor may consider himself lucky\nif the soundness of his slumbers is not disturbed by any calls during\nthe night.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE ITINERANT MISSIONARY\n\n    The medical missionary's advantage--How to know the people--The\n    real India--God's guest-house--The reception of the guest--Oriental\n    customs--Pitfalls for the unwary--The Mullah and the Padre--Afghan\n    logic--A patient's welcome--The Mullah conciliated--A rough\n    journey--Among thieves--A swimming adventure--Friends or\n    enemies?--Work in camp--Rest at last.\n\n\nThere is this difference between the medical missionary and the\npreacher pure and simple: that while the latter has to seek his\ncongregation, the former will have his congregation come to him,\nand often in such numbers that, like our Lord and His disciples,\nhe will not have leisure even so much as to eat. But even a doctor,\nwho finds his time at headquarters fully and profitably occupied,\nwill be committing a great mistake if he never itinerates. For it\nis in camp and in village life that the missionary gets to know and\nunderstand the people, and by travelling from village to village,\nand living with them as their guest, he gets to know their real inner\nlife in a way that otherwise he never would, and for a missionary,\nat least, such an experience is indispensable.\n\nThere are two methods of itineration. On the one hand, he may carry\ntents and a full camp equipment, and pitch his camp near some large\nvillage, or in the midst of several small ones, and may receive his\npatients and do his daily work there, while visiting the villages\nafter his day's work is done. By this plan he is independent, and can\nwork at his own time, and can stay or move as his fancy dictates. On\nthe other hand, he may become the guest of one of the chief men of\nthe village, who will put his guest-house at his disposal and give\nhim hospitality. By this plan he is brought into much closer contact\nwith the people and will see more of them, but he will forfeit his\nindependence, will be obliged to consult his host in all his plans,\nand must be prepared to put himself and his time at the disposal of\nhis host and the villagers, both by day and night.\n\nBoth methods have their advantages. For a new district, and where\nthe people are suspicious, the latter plan, though more exacting,\nis probably the better; when the missionary has become well known\nand has much work to do, the former is preferable.\n\nThe traveller who has spent a winter in touring India, but has only\nvisited the large towns and show places, and has never lived in\nan Indian village, remains altogether a stranger to the deep inner\nlife of the Indian. The real India is not seen in the Westernized\nbazaars of the large cities, but in the myriads of villages, wherein\nmore than 80 per cent. of the population of India dwell. Moreover,\na much better and more attractive side of Indian life is seen in the\nvillages than in the towns, and it is among their less sophisticated\npopulation that the missionary spends his happiest hours.\n\nWhen travelling without camp equipment, we generally follow the\nBible precept. We arrive at a village, and, \"inquiring who within\nit is worthy, abide there till we depart thence.\" This is usually\nsome malik, or head man, who possesses that great institution of\nAfghanistan, a hujra, or guest-house. We are shown to this house,\nusually a mud building with a low door and a few small apertures in\nthe walls in the place of windows, and a clean-swept earthen floor,\nwhich may be covered by a few palm-mats. Hearing of our arrival,\nthe owner of the guest-house comes to receive us in the Oriental\nfashion so familiar to readers of the Old Testament.\n\nThus, on one occasion I came rather late at night to one such\nguest-house. The host had already retired, but rose from his bed\nto receive me. I inquired if that was his hujra. He answered: \"No;\nit is God's, but I am in charge of it.\" Such expressions are not mere\nform, as was shown by the cheerful and unostentatious way in which the\nowner put himself out in order to insure my comfort. Once I arrived\nabout midnight at a village, the head man of which I did not know\npersonally, though it appears he knew me well. He was not satisfied\nuntil I consented to occupy his bed, which he had just vacated for me,\nwhile he went off to make himself a shift elsewhere. The acceptance\nof such an offer might not always prove very attractive among those\nAfghans whose ideas of cleanliness are not the same as ours, but to\nrefuse it would--at least, on the part of a missionary--be an act so\ndiscourteous as to injure the attainment of those relations with the\npeople which he should desire.\n\nThe head man will at once call for some of his attendants, who,\nexcept at the busy time of sowing and harvest, are probably lounging\nabout the chauk, and they at once bring a number of the plain wooden\nbedsteads of the country, which are almost universally used, even\nby the richer classes, in preference to chairs. Rugs and pillows are\nbrought, and perhaps a carpet may be spread on the floor. Tea is then\nordered, and an attendant brings in a tray on which is a very large\nteapot and a number of very small saucerless cups, called in these\nparts balghami, and used all over Central Asia for tea-drinking. The\nwhole is covered by an embroidered cloth, which is removed by the\nattendant. Sugar is added to the teapot to a degree which to many\nWestern palates appears nauseating. Cardamoms, and sometimes other\nspices, are also added. The milk, too, is usually added to the teapot,\nalthough some hosts, who have learnt by experience the peculiarity of\nWestern taste, leave the milk and the sugar to be added by the guests\nthemselves. Tea is poured out and handed round, and drunk usually very\nhot; and if the guests drink it with very loud smackings of the lips,\nit is supposed to indicate that they particularly appreciate it. The\ncups are filled repeatedly, and when the guest wishes to indicate\nthat he has had enough he turns the cup upside down.\n\nBy this time the news of our arrival has spread through the\nvillage. There are probably a number of old patients there, who\nhave once or oftener been inmates of the base hospital, and they\nhelp to collect all the blind, the halt, the maimed, and the sick\nof the village, and we proceed to unpack our medicines and commence\nprescribing and physicking.\n\nThen will come the Mullah of the village, with his Quran under his arm\nand his rosary in his hand, and with a very sanctimonious and superior\nkind of air. He has come to see that the faith of the flock is not\nendangered, and is followed by a number of his talibs, or students,\nwhose great desire is to hear a wordy battle between the Padre and\nthe Mullah, and to see the former ignominiously defeated.\n\nEastern ideas are cast in such a very different mould to Western, and\ntheir system of logic and habit of mind are so unlike ours, that the\nyoung missionary may consider himself fortunate if he is not frequently\nheld up to ridicule by some ignorant Mullah, who on such an occasion as\nthis, before an audience who are naturally inclined to side with him,\nand can appreciate his language and arguments very much better than\nours, has all the advantage on his side. It is no doubt better to avoid\nsuch discussions as far as possible. But this cannot always be done,\nas the refusal to answer questions would be assumed to imply inability\nto do so, and would be taken by the audience to indicate defeat. What\nreally impresses the people would not usually be our arguments, but\nthe patience and courtesy with which we meet, or ought to meet, the\nendeavours of our opponent to make us lose our temper. According to\nEastern ideas, the mere stroking of the beard is supposed to indicate\nirritation arising from the inability to answer the questions, and if\nthe inexperienced disputant incautiously puts his hand to his beard,\nhis opponent will most probably show off his advantage by pretending\nto apologize to him for having made him lose his temper.\n\nOn one occasion, while touring among the frontier villages, I was\nspending the night at a hujra, and after dark a Mullah had come in for\ndiscussion, and a great number of the men of the village, attracted\nby the hope of an interesting conflict between their champion and\nthe Padre Sahib, had collected to listen.\n\nIt was winter, and there was a fire of twigs burning in the middle\nof the room, which was filling the place with its smoke, as there\nwas only one quite inadequate aperture in the centre of the room by\nwhich it could find its exit. Round all four sides were a number of\nthe native beds, on which both disputants and audience were seated\ncross-legged or reclining at their ease.\n\nAs the fire burnt low a boy would bring in some crackling thorns and\nbranches which were piled outside the room, and throw some on the\nfire, which would blaze up and illuminate the faces of all around;\nfor the only other light was the little earthen oil lamp in a niche\nin one corner, which only served to make the darkness visible.\n\nThe Mullah was evidently bent on making a display of his own dialectic\nskill at my expense, and began in a rather condescending tone to\nask if I knew anything about theology; and on my replying that I\nhad come to the country in order to teach the Christian religion,\nhe turned to the audience, and said somewhat contemptuously:\n\n\"I do not suppose these Padres know much, but we will see.\" He then\nturned to me and said: \"Can you tell me the colour of faith?\"\n\nRather puzzled by the question, I asked what he meant. He said:\n\n\"Why, is it white, or green, or red, or what colour?\"\n\nI replied that, as an abstract idea, it did not possess the quality\nof colour.\n\nMullah: \"Then can you tell me what shape it is? Is it round, or square,\nor what?\"\n\nI: \"Neither has it any shape. It is only an abstract quality.\"\n\nMullah: \"It is evident that he does not know much about theology,\nseeing he cannot answer such simple questions as the colour and shape\nof faith.\"\n\nAt this time I did not know that the Muhammadans ascribed such concrete\nqualities to all their abstract religious ideas.\n\nMullah: \"Do you know anything about astronomy?\"\n\nI thought that here at least my knowledge might not be far inferior\nto that of this Mullah, and said:\n\n\"Yes, I think I can answer you any questions on that subject.\"\n\nMullah: \"Tell me, then, what becomes of the sun when it sinks below\nthe horizon every evening?\"\n\nI then proceeded to as simple and lucid an explanation as I could\nof the revolutions of the earth on its axis, but could see from the\nlooks and ejaculations of the audience that they thought the idea\nrather a mad one.\n\nThe Mullah himself made no effort to conceal his contempt, and said:\n\n\"That, then, is all you know about it?\"\n\nA little nettled, I said:\n\n\"Well, what explanation do you give?\"\n\n\"We all know that the fires of hell are under the earth. The sun\npasses down there every night, and therefore comes up blazing hot in\nthe morning.\"\n\nI rather had my breath taken away by this explanation, which met with\nejaculations of approbation from the men around me, and I incautiously\nasked the Mullah if he could explain the seasons.\n\nMullah (turning to the people): \"It is evident that I shall have to\nteach him everything from the beginning.\"\n\nTo me: \"It is in the spring that the devil makes up his fires, and\npiles on the firewood. Therefore the fires get very hot in the summer,\nand cool down later on. That is why the summer sun is so hot.\"\n\nNeedless to say, the explanations of the Mullah appeared to\nthe audience as rational and lucid as mine were far-fetched and\nincomprehensible, and they had no doubt as to which of the disputants\nhad won the day.\n\nFrom this it can be seen that if a young missionary thinks that a\nmere knowledge of Western learning and Western logic will enable\nhim to cope with the very limited learning of the Afghan Mullahs\non their own ground, he is vastly mistaken, and will before long be\nput to ridicule, as I was on the above occasion, which was one of my\nearliest experiences on the frontier.\n\nSince then I have learnt how to argue with Afghan logic, and from\nthe Afghan point of view.\n\nIf it happens that the Mullah, or some friend of his, is in need of\nmedical or surgical advice, his attitude to you will undergo a great\nchange, and you will have much greater facilities for carrying on your\nwork among the people. Sometimes, when he sees the benefits accruing to\nthe poor people who had no other prospect of getting medical relief,\nhis attitude becomes unexpectedly friendly, as his better feelings\nprevail over his religious animosity.\n\nOnce, having set out on an itineration, some Pathans came to tell me\nI might as well save myself the trouble of going in that direction\nbecause a certain Mullah, who had much influence in those parts,\nhad gone before us, warning the people not to accept our treatment,\nlisten to our preaching, or even come near us. I answered by the remark\nwhich appeals to the Muhammadan mind under almost every conceivable\ncircumstance: \"Whatever God's will has ordained will be,\" and told\nhim we should adhere to our original plan.\n\nOn the first two days the people certainly seemed suspicious, and\nvery few came near us. While we were on the march on the third day,\npassing not very far from a village, a man who had apparently noticed\nus from the village, which was situated on an eminence above the road,\ncame running down to us, and, after the usual salutations, said:\n\"There is an old patient of yours here who is very anxious to see\nyou; please turn aside and come to the house.\" On arrival we found\nthat it was a woman who, a year before, had been an inmate of the\nBannu Hospital for malignant tumour on the leg, which had required\namputation. Before she left the hospital we had made her a rough wooden\npin leg, on which she now appeared hobbling along to greet us. She\nshowed great delight at unexpectedly meeting us, and had apparently\nbeen telling her fellow-villagers wonderful stories of what she had\nseen and heard in the mission hospital, and of the unaccountable\nlove and sympathy which had been shown her there, for others of her\nneighbours came crowding into her little courtyard, and among them,\nthough unknown to us, the Mullah who was supposed to be preaching a\ncrusade against us. He had apparently come in on the quiet to see for\nhimself what we and our work were like, and was greatly struck at the\nundisguised delight with which we were greeted by our old patients; for\nwhen the woman of the house begged us to stop while she prepared us a\nmeal, he came forward and disclosed himself, saying: \"No; my house is\nin the next village, and it is my prerogative to entertain the Padre\nSahib. He must come on to my house.\" At the same time he took up some\nPashtu Gospels which we had been giving away, but which the people, for\nfear of theological displeasure, had been afraid to take openly, and\nsaid: \"This is Kalam Ullah [Word of God], and is a good book.\" Thus,\nin a moment, by this providential presence of the Mullah, the whole\nattitude of our reception was changed. Word was passed on from village\nto village that we had become the guests and eaten the bread of the\nMullah himself, and that he had pronounced in favour of our books,\ntelling the people that we were Ahl-el-Kitab, or people of the Book,\nthe term which Muhammadan theologians apply to Christians and Jews\nwhen they wish to speak of them in a friendly spirit.\n\nWe were not always equally fortunate, especially in our earlier years\non the frontier.\n\nAbout two years after I first went to Bannu I went out on a short\nitineration with my assistant Jahan Khan, an account of whom is given\nin Chapter XVI.\n\nWe came to one village where the Mullahs had been exciting the feelings\nof the people against us, and telling them that any food or vessel\nwe touched was thereby defiled. We found it difficult to get food or\ndrinking-vessel even on payment, and some of the patients who came\nto us were induced to go away, and in some cases to throw away the\nmedicine they had already received.\n\nWith some difficulty we got a lodging for the night, and early next\nmorning we started off to look for a village where we might get a\nmore hospitable reception. But the minds of the people had already\nbeen poisoned against us.\n\nWe went into the courtyard of the Patwar-Khana (village bailiff),\nand sat down and opened our medicines. Some Hindus came for treatment,\nand we got one of them to bring us some food; but the Muhammadans were\nuniversally hostile, and stationed one of their number at the gate to\nprevent any Muhammadan communicating with us. They then apparently\nbecame annoyed with the Hindus, that they should be participating\nin benefits from which they had excluded themselves, and stones\nbegan to fall into the courtyard where we were seated; and as the\nHindus in these villages are not only in a small minority, but live\nin dread of the fiercer Muhammadans, even they who had already come\nto us disappeared, and we were left alone. It seemed useless to stop\nin a village where we were not welcomed, so we saddled our animals\nand departed.\n\nMany years have passed since this experience. Patients from both\nthese villages frequently come to the Bannu Hospital, and now I and\nmy assistants get a welcome and hospitality whenever we visit them.\n\nAt other times the difficulties of itineration are not so much from\nthe people as from the hardships of travelling among the frontier\nmountains, where the roads are nil, and the bridle-tracks such that\nit is often impossible to get a loaded camel through.\n\nI will therefore give a short account of a journey from Bannu across\nthe Wazir Hills to Thal, which we made in the summer of 1904.\n\nAs our route lay chiefly through independent territory, it was\ndifficult to procure camel-men for so trying a journey.\n\nThe men with the first camels we hired ran away when they found we\nwere going into the hills, as not only is the road very difficult for\nladen animals, but they are afraid of being attacked by Wazir robbers,\nthe Wazirs having the worst reputation of all the tribes of Afghans\nwho live on the border. With some difficulty we got four more camels,\nand as their owners were themselves Wazirs, we prevailed on them\nto accompany us. We loaded up our tents, medicines, and bedding,\nand about 9 a. m., when the sun was already very hot, we finally\nstarted. Besides the two camel-men, there were a hospital assistant,\ntwo servants, a Muhammadan inquirer, whom I was taking along for the\nsake of instructing him, and one of the schoolboys, who had persuaded\nme to let him accompany us, so that we were quite a large party. After\ntoiling for some hours along a mountain defile we came to Gumatti Post,\none of those frontier forts that line the North-West Border. This was\nbuilt close to an old Wazir fort, in capturing which, two years ago,\nColonel Tonnochy and Captain White lost their lives, as described in\nChapter I. We passed through the wire entanglement, and spent the heat\nof the day talking to the native officer and soldiers in charge. In the\nafternoon we set out again, and marched along the bed of the Kurram\nRiver, which we had to ford six times, so that before we reached our\nnight camp it had become quite dark. Taking advantage of the dark,\nsome light-fingered Wazir thieves managed to steal the tent carpet\noff the back of a camel without our catching sight of them. Our camp\nwas in a Wazir village, built on a cliff overhanging the river. The\npeople were rather excited, as another Wazir clan had been up during\nthe day and made off with twenty head of cattle. However, there were\nsome old patients among the people, so we got a hearty welcome. They\nmade us some tea, and set some of their number to watch round our\nbeds with their Martini-Henrys ready loaded in case enemies should\ncome during the night. The Mullah of the place came and had a talk\nwith us, and then we were soon all fast asleep.\n\nNext morning we were up betimes, and I found my bed surrounded by a\nnumber of women with squalling babies. One mother wanted me to see her\nbaby's eyes, another the stomach of hers, another the ears; in fact,\nall the babies seemed to have made common cause to delay my departure\nas long as possible. However, after doling out various lotions and\npills, and giving the mothers many instructions, which, I fear, were\nonly heard to be forgotten, we managed to get the camels loaded and\nstarted. Now, however, a new difficulty confronted us. During the\nnight there must have been heavy rain higher up the valley, for the\nriver was in flood and unfordable. I knew by experience how strong\nyet deceptive the currents of the river are when it is in flood, for\na few weeks before I had been out on a bathing excursion with some\nof our schoolboys in another part of the same river. I had dived\ninto a deep pool, when I found myself in a return current, which\nwas carrying me back under a small waterfall, where the water was\nsweeping over an obstruction like a mill-race, with a fall of about\nfour feet. As soon as I got to the fall I went down, down, down, till\nI thought I was never coming up again. However, I did come up, only,\nhowever, to be pulled back at once under the waterfall and down into\nthe depths again. The third time I came up I got a momentary glimpse\nof two of the boys trying to throw me the end of a pagari. They were,\nhowever, much too far away for me to reach it, and I was pulled under\nagain before I had time to get even one good breath. As I went down\nI wondered if I should ever see the boys again, and how many times\nI should come up before it was all over. Then all at once it struck\nme that I was very foolish trying to get out at the surface, where\nthe current was beyond my strength, and I must change my tactics; so\nI turned over and dived down till I felt the boulders at the bottom,\nand then crept along the bottom with the aid of the current--which\nthere, of course, was flowing downstream--as long as I could. When I\ncould do so no more, and had to strike upwards, I found, to my delight\nand thankfulness, that I was out of the eddy and going downstream. So\nit was clearly impossible to keep along the river, even if we had\nnot had laden animals with us. We were obliged, therefore, to make a\nlong d\u00e9tour through the hills, which took us nearly all day. So rough\nand precipitous was the path that we had the greatest difficulty in\ngetting the camels along, and had several times to unload them in\norder to get them over bad places.\n\nDuring the afternoon we saw a party of fifteen or sixteen armed Wazirs\nhastening towards us. At first we thought they were coming to loot us,\nand one of the Wazirs with us told us to stop, while he went forward\nand called out, \"Are you friends or enemies?\" When they replied\n\"Friends\" he went up to them, and then called us on to join him,\nwhen I found that they were a party of outlaws who had fallen foul\nof the Government, and, therefore, had made their escape across the\nfrontier. They got me to sit down with them in the shade of a rock and\nwrite down a list of their grievances for them, so that they might\npropitiate the Political Officer and obtain permission to return\nto British India. I was very happy to render them this service, and\nwe parted good friends. I noticed, however, that the Wazirs with us\nseemed uncomfortable, and kept their rifles ready cocked till they\nhad disappeared behind a turn in the defile. I make it a principle\nnever to carry any arms myself, and think I am much safer on that\naccount, but the villagers who accompany me always go well armed;\nin fact, across the border few Afghans can go out of their houses\nwithout their rifles on their shoulders ready for use, so terribly\nprevalent are the blood-feuds and village quarrels. We spent that\nnight in a Wazir village, where we saw a number of patients and\nmade fresh friends. The head man of the village apologized next\nmorning for not accompanying us more than half a mile. He said that\nhe had blood-feuds with most of the villages round, and could not,\ntherefore, venture farther. The fame of the Bannu Mission Hospital,\nhowever, was our best escort, and passport too, and we got a welcome\nat almost every village we passed, through the mediation of numerous\nold patients, who had recounted in all the villages the kind treatment\nthey had received at the hands of the feringis (Europeans) in Bannu.\n\nProgress was somewhat delayed by frequent calls to visit a sick person\nin one or another village, but openings for the Gospel were at the same\ntime secured, and the lessons of the parable of the Good Samaritan\nimparted. By midday we reached Thal, which was for some days to be\nour field hospital. Here we pitched our tents, under the shade of some\nwillows, by a small stream outside the town, and early the next morning\nstarted work. A large crowd of sick and their friends had collected\nfrom Thal itself and the villages round. I first read a passage out of\nthe Pashtu Testament, and explained it to them in that language. The\nGospel address over, I wrote out prescriptions for each one in order,\nwhich my assistant dispensed to them. After a minor operation or two,\na fresh crowd had collected, another address was given, and they,\ntoo, were seen and attended to. In this way five lots of patients were\ntreated, and about 200 or 300 people heard the Gospel story in their\nown language. Then, as evening was drawing on, we shut up our books\nand our boxes, washed off the dust of the day's work in the brook hard\nby, and proceeded to interest ourselves in the operations which the\ncook was conducting over an improvised fireplace, made of a couple\nof bricks placed on either side of a small hole in the ground. Dinner\nover, we had family prayers, and then fell soundly asleep.\n\nAn interesting town where we have sometimes stopped in our itinerations\nis that of Kalabagh. It is situated on the right bank of the River\nIndus where it finally breaks forth from the rocky gorge that has\nhemmed it in with high, often precipitous, sides, which rise at Dimdot\nto a sheer height of four hundred feet above the surging river, on\nto the boundless alluvial plain of the Panjab. In some of the bends\nbetween Attock and Kalabagh, it rushes at a great speed over rapids,\nwhere the boatmen warily guide their heavy river boats, lest they be\ndrawn into some whirlpool, or dashed against the precipitous sides;\nat others there are deep, silent reaches where the bottom is two\nhundred feet from the surface. During the hot weather, when the river\nis in flood, it is an exciting experience to be ferried across its\ndark grey surging stream. At Kalabagh there are extensive quarries\nof salt of a beautiful pink and white colour and great purity; these\nbring in a considerable revenue to the Government. The town itself\nis built on the side of a hill of red salt marl, some of the houses\nbeing quarried out of the salt itself, so that the owner has only to\nchip off a bit of his own wall in order to season his cooking-pot. It\nis a standing grievance with the inhabitants that their own walls are\nGovernment contraband, and they are subject to a fine if they sell\na brick from their wall without paying duty on it. The streets are\nnarrow and winding, and being, many of them, roofed and even built\nover, are very dark, and in the hot summer nights insufferably close\nand hot, and at all times distinctly insanitary and malodorous.\n\nThe people are pale and an\u00e6mic, and nearly all suffer from goitre in\na greater or less degree. They form a great contrast to the hardy\nmountaineers of the Bangi Khel Khattak tribe on the hills behind\nthem. These form one of the great recruiting grounds of the Pathan\nregiments of the frontier, while from Kalabagh itself it would be hard\nto find a score of men who could pass the recruiting officer. In the\nsultry summer weather the inhabitants spend the day under a number of\nlarge banyan-trees (Ficus Indica) which are scattered along the edge\nof the river. Here, too, the civil officers of the district hold their\ncourts, and I was encamped under a spacious banyan. Its spreading\nbranches not only sheltered me and all the sick and visitors who\nthronged around me, but also the Deputy Commissioner of the district\nand his court, together with the crowd of suitors and applicants that\nalways followed in his train; and the District Judge, with his court,\nand a crowd of litigants, pleaders and witnesses--and this all without\nincommoding one another.\n\nThe land away from the river is pulsating with the fervid heat of\nthe summer sun, and the town itself is like an oven; but there is\nnearly always a cool breeze blowing on the bank of the river, and,\nwhen heated and dusty with the day's work, one can throw off one's\nclothes and cool oneself with a swim in the river, where the young men\nof the place are disporting themselves all their leisure time. They use\nthe inflated skin of a goat or of a cow, and, supporting themselves\non this, can rest on the deep, cool bosom of the river as long as\nthey like without fatigue. The river is too rapid for them to travel\nupstream, but when business takes them downstream, they simply fasten\ntheir clothes in a bundle on their heads, lie across their inflated\nskin, and quietly drift downstream at about four miles an hour as\nfar as they desire. On returning, they simply deflate their skin,\nand sling it over their shoulders.\n\nWe were usually thronged with patients here from morning to evening,\nand I have seen as many as three hundred in one day, the work\nincluding a number of operations. One day a noted Muhammadan Sheikh\nvisited the place. He was a convert from Hinduism, and was travelling\nabout the country preaching Islam and decrying the Christian and Hindu\nreligions. He sent us a challenge to meet him in a public discussion on\nthe respective merits of the Cross and the Crescent. I was reluctant,\nas such discussions are seldom conducted fairly or sincerely; but,\nfinding my reluctance was being misunderstood, I consented, and we\nmet one evening, a Muhammadan gentleman of the place being appointed\nchairman. It was arranged that we were each in turn to ask a question,\nwhich the other was to answer. He was given the first question, and\nasked how it was that we had not miraculous powers, seeing that the\nBible said that those who believed in Christ should be able to take\npoison or be bitten of snakes without suffering injury. The catechist\nwith me gave so lucid and categorical a reply that the Muhammadan\ndisputant and chairman changed their tone, and said that, as the\ntime was getting late, it would be better to postpone my question\ntill another time. Needless to say, that more convenient time never\ncame, and we were not again challenged to a discussion at Kalabagh,\nand the Sheikh left for fresh pastures a few days later.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nAFGHAN MULLAHS\n\n    No priesthood in Islam--Yet the Mullahs ubiquitous--Their great\n    influence--Theological refinements--The power of a charm--Bazaar\n    disputations--A friend in need--A frontier Pope--In a Militia\n    post--A long ride--A local Canterbury--An enemy becomes a\n    friend--The ghazi fanatic--An outrage on an English officer.\n\n\nHere we are met by an apparent paradox. There is no section of the\npeople of Afghanistan which has a greater influence on the life of\nthe people than the Mullahs, yet it has been truly said that there\nis no priesthood in Islam. According to the tenets of Islam, there\nis no act of worship and no religious rite which may not, in the\nabsence of a Mullah, be equally well performed by any pious layman;\nyet, on the other hand, circumstances have enabled the Mullahs of\nAfghanistan to wield a power over the populations which is sometimes,\nit appears, greater than the power of the throne itself. For one\nthing, knowledge has been almost limited to the priestly class, and\nin a village where the Mullahs are almost the only men who can lay\nclaim to anything more than the most rudimentary learning it is only\nnatural that they should have the people of the village entirely in\ntheir own control. Then, the Afghan is a Muhammadan to the backbone,\nand prides himself on his religious zeal, so that the Mullah becomes\nto him the embodiment of what is most national and sacred.\n\nThe Mullahs are, too, the ultimate dispensers of justice, for there\nare only two legal appeals in Afghanistan--one to the theological law,\nas laid down by Muhammad and interpreted by the Mullahs; the other to\nthe autocracy of the throne--and even the absolute Amir would hesitate\nto give an order at variance with Muhammadan law, as laid down by\nthe leading Mullahs. His religion enters into the minutest detail\nof an Afghan's everyday life, so that there is no affair, however\ntrivial, in which it may not become necessary to make an appeal to\nthe Mullah. Birth, betrothal, marriage, sickness, death--all require\nhis presence, and as often as not the Afghan thinks that if he has\ncalled in a Mullah to a sick relation there is no further necessity\nof calling in a doctor. Thus the Mullah becomes an integral part of\nAfghan life, and as he naturally feels that the advance of mission work\nand of education must mean the steady diminishing of his influence,\nhe leaves no stone unturned to withstand the teaching of missionaries\nand to prejudice the minds of the people against them.\n\nThe great religious fervour of the Afghans must be evident to anyone\nwho has had even a cursory acquaintance with them, whether in their\nmountain homes or as travellers through India. I remember once\nsitting in a village chauk while a religious discussion was going\non which threatened to launch the two opponent parties into making\nbodily attacks on each other, and the whole of the matter under\ndiscussion was whether prayers said by a worshipper on the skin of\na jackal were efficacious or not. According to the tenets of Islam,\nif a worshipper were to perform his genuflections on the bare ground\nthey would be of no effect, because the ground might certainly be\nassumed to be ceremonially polluted. Ordinarily, the worshipper will\nspread a piece of clean cloth, or mat, or skin on the ground, and,\nremoving his shoes beforehand, will perform his prayers thereon. It\nmight be contended, however, that even though the skin of the jackal\nwere absolutely clean, yet the unclean nature of the animal still\nattached to it, and rendered the prayers ineffective. The matter in\nthis case was referred to a renowned Mullah who lived some way off,\nand to whom both parties had to send deputations several days' journey.\n\nThen, in the mission hospital the question has frequently been\nraised by the Afghan patients as to whether it was lawful to say\nprayers in the clothes provided by the mission for the patients,\neven though these may have come direct from the washing; and we have\nbeen unable to persuade patients to put on clothes, however clean,\nwhich might possibly prevent them from saying their prayers until\nthey have brought the case before some Mullah who was willing to\ngive an ex cathedr\u00e2 pronouncement in our favour. Mullahs sometimes\nuse the power and influence they possess to rouse the tribes to\nconcerted warfare against the infidels, as they tell them that the\nEnglish are; and often a prelude to one of the little frontier wars\nhas been some ardent Mullah going up and down on the frontier, like\nPeter the Hermit, rousing the tribes to come down and fight. Often\nthey lay claim to magical powers whereby those who submit themselves\nto their incantations become invulnerable, so that they are able to\nstand up before the bullets of the English troops unscathed. Before\nthe war of 1897, a Mullah, known as the Mullah Povindah, was reputed\nto have this power; and many of the Afghans I met maintained that\nthey had put it to the test, and seen with their own eyes the\nbullets fall harmless off the people to whom he had extended his\nprotection. It was useless to say that they were trying to impose\nupon them, for they thoroughly believed it themselves, as was shown\nin many cases by the reckless daring with which they charged down on\nthe British troops. Even those who may be supposed to be free from\nthe superstition of the ignorant believe with equal fervour in this\npower of the Mullahs and holy men. An instance of this occurs in the\nMemoirs of the late Amir Abdurrahman, who relates that once during a\nmilitary review a soldier deliberately shot at him as he was sitting\nin a chair. The bullet passed through the back of the chair, and\nwounded a page-boy standing behind. He attributes his escape entirely\nto a charm written on a piece of paper which a holy man had given to\nhim when a boy. He says: \"At first I did not believe in its power to\nprotect; I therefore tried it by tying it round the neck of a sheep,\nand though I tried hard to shoot the animal, no bullet injured her.\"\n\nOne of the commonest experiences of the open-air preacher on the\nborders of Afghanistan is the wordy warfare in which he is obliged\nto engage with some bellicose Mullah. The Mullah has heard that\nthe missionary has begun to preach, and he regards it as his duty\nto come down and champion Islam. He brings a big volume of the Quran\nostentatiously under his arm, and is followed by four or five students,\nor talibs, ready to applaud all his thrusts, while ridiculing in a very\nforcible way the replies of the preacher. Such arguments can hardly\nbe expected to bear any reasonable fruit, because the object of the\nMullah is not to ascertain what your views on any doctrine really are,\nbut only to gain a strategical victory and hold you up to ridicule;\nbut it is equally impossible to refuse the challenge, for then not\nonly would the audience conclude that you had no answer to give,\nbut the Mullah would take care that no one remained to listen to\nyou. Frequently the object of the Mullah is to egg the people on to\nacts of open violence, and then, when they see that the row is well\nstarted, they suddenly make themselves scarce, and leave their flock to\ntake the risk of any subsequent police investigations which may result.\n\nOn one occasion I had a providential deliverance from an unpleasant\nincident. On proceeding to the place in the market where I usually\npreached, I found a Mullah in possession preaching to a scowling crowd\nof townsmen. As we had always preached in that particular place for\nyears, I saw it was only a ruse to oust us from preaching first there\nand then anywhere else where we might go, so I promptly took my place\nby the Mullah's side, and commenced preaching to the same audience. The\nMullah vociferated, and the audience scowled more and more, and then\nthe Mullah, turning to me, said: \"Look here, you had better get out of\nthis, as these people here are up to mischief, and it may go hard with\nyou.\" I felt much like Micah when the Danites said to him: \"Let not\nthy voice be heard among us, lest angry fellows run upon thee.\" But\nI told the Mullah that I held him responsible for the acts of his\nfollowers, and I did not intend to forsake the place to which long\ncustom had given us a right. Just as the storm seemed about to break,\nand I momentarily expected to be pitched across the street, a stalwart\nsmith, a well-known Muhammadan, himself respected by the people,\npushed through the crowd, and, taking the Mullah by the arm, said:\n\"Now, Mullah Sahib, you know the Padre Sahib never interferes with you\nin your place, and that this is not your proper preaching-place. Why\ndo you want to make a row and injure him?\" So saying, he took the\nrather unwilling Mullah off to his usual place, and the more unruly\nportion of the crowd, after hurling a few imprecations at me, followed\nhim, too. Our friend the smith was an old hospital patient, so this,\ntoo, may be set down, under the overruling providence of God, to the\nmollifying influence of a medical mission.\n\nOne of the most influential Mullahs on the British side of the Afghan\nborder is the Mullah Karbogha, so called from the village which forms\nhis Canterbury. In some respects his influence was directed towards the\nmoral improvement of the people, while in others his religious schools\nbecame hotbeds of fanaticism. Thus he set his face steadily against\nthe evil practice, which is so prevalent among the frontier Afghans,\nof selling their daughters in marriage to the highest bidder. Not long\nago a Mullah of considerable power, who had himself sold his daughter\nin marriage, had to make the most abject profession of repentance\nlest the Mullah Karbogha should excommunicate him, and he should have\nto fly the country. He regards the smoking of tobacco as one of the\nworks of the devil, and when the Mullah makes his visitation to some\nvillage there is a general scramble to hide away all the pipes; for\nnot only would any that he found be publicly broken, but the owner\nwould incur his displeasure. As the Afghans do not confine themselves\nto the soothing weed, but mix it up with a number of intoxicating and\ninjurious substances, such as Indian hemp or charras, this attitude\nof the Mullah may be regarded in the light of a reform. Unfortunately,\nhe regards it as a heinous sin for any Muhammadan to take service with,\nor to receive pay from, the British Government.  Often on the frontier\na grave crisis has threatened to result from the refusal of one of\nhis underlings, or Sheikhs, as they are called, to grant the rites\nof marriage or burial to some unfortunate Pathan who has enlisted in\none of the regiments of the Indian Army. The missionaries, of course,\nare regarded by him and his Sheikhs as the embodiment of the heresies\nof an infidel Government.\n\nFor many years the Mullah Karbogha apparently ignored me, but finally\nI had information that his attitude was going to become more distinctly\nhostile.  I thought it better, therefore, to act on the Biblical adage\nto \"agree with thine adversary quickly, whilst thou art in the way with\nhim,\" and to seek to modify his attitude by a personal interview. It\nwas one hot August day that found me and an Indian medical assistant\nriding to this frontier Mecca. It was a part of the district notorious\nfor deeds of violence, and after riding some ten miles, when the hot\nsummer sun made us feel the need of some refreshment, we came to one of\nthose villages where is posted a guard of some twenty Militia Sepoys,\nwho represent the army of the Government in their midst. It was only\na roughly-built house, loopholed and strengthened in some parts to\nsimulate a fort, and the soldiers themselves were only removed by\na few months' military training, a simple uniform, and the salt of\nthe Sarkar, which they had eaten, from the families of brigands and\nhighwaymen from which they had been enlisted. There had been a double\nmurder that morning in a village a few miles off, and most of the\nsoldiers were scouring the country round in quest of the marauders;\nbut, as usually happens, the murderers had got a good start, and\nwere already probably well across the frontier. When the soldiers who\nremained in charge found that it was the Bannu Daktar Sahib who had\ncome so suddenly upon them, they were all attention. Tea was brewed,\nand milk and unleavened cakes were fetched from the village, while\nmen suffering from ague and women bringing their children suffering\nfrom various ailments to which Afghan children are liable soon came\ncrowding in, and a little store of medicines that we had carried on\nour saddles was in great request.\n\nAfter refreshing ourselves with their simple hospitality, and\nchatting with them on the various subjects which come most naturally\nto travellers and to missionaries, we tightened our saddle-girths,\nwhich had been loosened to give the horses a feed, mounted, and rode\non. The road lay through a wide and picturesque valley. A small river\nwas dashing into silver spray over the boulders on some steep descent,\nand elsewhere deepening into some pool overshadowed by acacias and\noleanders, where the fish could be seen disporting themselves on\nthe shingly bottom. The sides of the valley rose up to right and\nleft in rough escarpments, where the olive and the gurguri-berry\ngave a clothing of green to the bare rocks, while here and there\nthe hills receded sufficiently to enable the thrifty husbandman to\nclear a little piece of land from stones and to plant it with millet,\nwhich in good seasons would supply his household with bread through\nthe winter months.\n\nAfter a couple of hours of such riding, we approached the watershed\nof the valley, northward of which the streams flowed in the opposite\ndirection towards the Miranzai and the Kurram. It was one of those\nwide stony plains called in Afghanistan raghzas, covered for the\nmost part with stones stained black by oxides of iron and manganese,\nand called by the people dozakhi kanrai, or \"hell-stones,\" from their\ntradition that they were thrown there in some ancient conflict between\nthe devils and the angels. The coarse grass springs up in tufts between\nthe stones, and affords a pasturage to the flocks of hardy goats and\nsheep. Shepherds may be seen here and there guarding and attending\nthem, while in parts there may be sufficient soil to give in a rainy\nseason a fair crop of millet or of barley. Before long we descried\nfour tall minarets rising up beyond an undulation of the plain. This\nwas our first view of the famed cathedral of this Canterbury of the\nfrontier where the Mullah Karbogha held his court and issued his\ndecrees and excommunications, which carried dismay into any hapless\nchief's home or village against whom they had been fulminated. As we\ndrew near we met various other travellers, who had come, it may be,\nto bear the Mullah their respects and some votive offerings, or it\nmay be to bring some long-standing dispute for settlement. We wondered\nwithin ourselves what the result of our pilgrimage would be.\n\nAs we drew near we got a fine view of the really beautiful and artistic\nmosque which the offerings of the faithful had enabled the Mullah\nto build at no little cost in this wild region, where both skilled\nlabour and building material were at a premium. There was a beautiful\ntank of clear limpid water, supplied by a fountain in the hill above,\nand here the faithful performed their ablutions before worship. Some\nof the talibs and Sheikhs were sitting round the tank and in the\ncourtyard of the mosque, and appeared not a little surprised to see\nthe Bannu Daktar Sahib come to their own Mecca. We were informed\nthat the Mullah himself had gone to a neighbouring village to decide\nsome dispute, but two of the sons came out to receive us, and led us\ninto a verandah, where we were soon surrounded by the curious of the\nplace. They led our horses away with the promise to look after their\nneeds, and inquired as to the reason of our unexpected arrival.\n\nWe told them how the fame of the Mullah Karbogha had reached Bannu,\nand how we had long been desirous of ourselves making his personal\nacquaintance. After some hesitation, the Mullah's eldest son, who was\nthe chief in authority during his absence, asked if he should bring\nus refreshments. This was what we wished, not so much because the hot\nAugust sun had made us both tired and thirsty, but because it had a\ndeeper signification; for, after having once offered us hospitality\nand broken bread with us, we should be recognized as guests of the\nMullah, and any opposition which he might have been contemplating\nagainst us would be seen at once by the observant Afghans around to\nhave been laid aside in favour of the reception due to an honoured\nguest. We therefore accepted the offer without demur, and tea sweetened\nwith plenty of sugar and flavoured with cardamoms was brought, with\nbiscuits, for our refection. Our repast over, and various questions\nasked and answered, we were left for a time to ourselves, for in the\nhot summer days of India the noonday hours are as sacred to retirement\nand repose as those of midnight.\n\nAfter a few hours' interval, wherein we were left to rest ourselves,\nthe Mullahs returned and commenced conversation somewhat more\naffably. They had no doubt found themselves between the horns of a\ndilemma, for their outward rejection of our advances might have led\nto acts of open violence on the part of the fanatical inhabitants of\nthe town, the responsibility for which would ultimately have come home\nto themselves in a way far from pleasant; while, on the other hand,\nour reception as guests broke down their attitude of hostility,\nas at once it would be noised all down the countryside that the\ngreat Mullah had broken the bread of friendship with the Daktar\nSahib from Bannu, and among the Afghans the relationship between\nhost and guest is inviolable. Thus, it came about that on our host\nmaking inquiries as to where we intended to spend the night, and\nfinding that we had no other plans, he insisted on our stopping as\nhis guests, and there and then sent his servants for the preparation\nof our lodging and our evening repast. The ice thus broken, we were\nable to proceed from general topics to the more abstruse theological\nspeculations, in which his reverence excelled, and, like a summer\nshower, this friendly interchange of ideas washed away the dust of\nmany old prejudices and misunderstandings, and as the evening hours\ndrew on our talk continued under the starlit canopy of the glorious\nEastern night, and we were vowing mutual friendship, and he promising\non his own behalf and on that of his father himself to become our\nguests on the next occasion of a visit to Bannu. When at last we lay\ndown to rest, we first thanked God, who had so prospered our journey,\nand broken down the great barrier of prejudice, and opened a way for\nus to carry on our work in the villages round.\n\nMany of the people still looked askance at us, and spoke of us as\n\"infidels\" and \"blasphemers,\" and would, no doubt, have been led to\nproceed further at a hint from the Mullahs; but our mission had been\naccepted, and we knew it was only a matter of time that we should\nbe actually welcomed. Even now, grown bolder by the attitude of the\nMullah, some old patients appeared, and insisted on our accompanying\nthem to various houses in the village where there were patients in\nneed of medical help and advice. One cannot overestimate the religious\ninfluences emanating from a place like Karbogha. Numbers of religious\nstudents are attracted there by the fame of the Mullah even from\ndistant places on both sides of the border, and the offerings of the\nfaithful enable the Mullah to give a free-handed hospitality to one\nand all, and in Afghanistan there is no quicker road to influence than\nthe ability to do this. It was a tradition in the villages round that\nwhen the Mullah daily prepared his saucepans of rice and cakes of\nunleavened bread in his kitchens, the amount was always found to be\nsufficient for the pilgrims of that day, even though hundreds might\ncome in before night, unexpected and unprepared for.\n\nAfter imbibing not only his theological teaching, but his religious\nand political ideals, these students are scattered far and wide\nfrom Kabul to Peshawur, and from Zwat to Waziristan, where they\nbecome his staunch adherents against rival Mullahs or against a\nmaterialistic Government. The more fanatical of these Mullahs do\nnot hesitate to incite their pupils to acts of religious fanaticism,\nor ghaza, as it is called. The ghazi is a man who has taken an oath\nto kill some non-Muhammadan, preferably a European, as representing\nthe ruling race; but, failing that, a Hindu or a Sikh is a lawful\nobject of his fanaticism. The Mullah instils into him the idea that\nif in so doing he loses his own life, he goes at once to Paradise,\nand enjoys the special delights of the houris and the gardens which\nare set apart for religious martyrs. When such a disciple has been\nworked up to the requisite degree of religious excitement, he is\nusually further fortified by copious draughts of bhang, or Indian hemp,\nwhich produces a kind of intoxication in which one sees everything red,\nand the bullet and the bayonet have no longer any terror for him. Not\na year passes on the frontier but some young officer falls a victim\nto one of these ghazi fanatics. Probably the ghazi has never seen\nhim before in his life, and can have no grudge against him as a man;\nbut he is a \"dog and a heretic,\" and his death a sure road to Paradise.\n\nOne summer afternoon in Bannu I went out with some of our schoolboys\nwho were training for the mile race in the coming school tournament. I\nwas accompanying them on my bicycle as they were running round the\npolo-ground, where some officers of the garrison were enjoying a game\nof golf. Suddenly a young Afghan of some eighteen summers, who had been\nable to arm himself with no more formidable weapon than a sharp axe,\nrushed up to one of the officers, and, before he could realize what\nwas coming, dealt him a violent blow across the neck. The officer\npartly shielded himself with his golf-club, and probably thereby\nsaved his life, for the axe came within a hair-breadth of severing\nthe main arteries, and before the fanatic could deal another stroke\nhe was felled to the ground by a blow from another officer with his\ngolf-club. He was only a village youth, with little knowledge of the\nworld, but had been incited to this act of suicidal fanaticism by a\nMullah, who, without the grit to become a martyr himself, thought\nit an act of piety to incite the ignorant boy to the murder of an\ninnocent fellow-creature at the sacrifice of his own life. In this\ncase it became known who the Mullah in question was, and which was the\nmosque in which he had given this teaching, and while the boy himself\nsuffered the extreme penalty of the law, the Mullah and the mosque\nwere not exempted from its operation. The former was transported to\nthe Andamans and the latter dismantled. Still, it is well known that\nother Mullahs are daily engaged in the same teaching on both sides of\nthe frontier, and other young bloods are equally desirous of obtaining\nthe sweets of martyrdom.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nA TALE OF A TALIB\n\n    Early days--The theological curriculum--Visit to Bannu--A public\n    discussion--New ideas--The forbearance of a native Christian--First\n    acquaintance with Christians--First confession--A lost love--A\n    stern chase--The lost sheep recovered--Bringing his teacher--The\n    Mullah converted--Excommunication--Faithful unto death--Fresh\n    temptations--A vain search--A night quest--The Mullahs\n    circumvented--Dark days--Hope ever.\n\n\nMuhammad Taib was born in the village of Thandkoi, in the Peshawur\ndistrict. His father was a small farmer, a good example of the better\nsort of Muhammadan of the Yusufzai tribe, thoroughly religious, yet\nnot fanatical, and honest withal. He was careful not only to bring\nup Muhammad Taib in a knowledge of his religion, but to preserve\nhim from the vices which are rife among the youth of the Pathan\nvillages. Taib's inclinations were towards study, and he showed a\ngreat aptitude for books. His father, however, was of the old school,\nwhich looked with suspicion on the education of the feringis; so it\nhappened with him as with most young men in Afghanistan who desire\nto cultivate their minds: he became a religious student, or talib.\n\nThere happened to be a Mullah in the village known as the Khani\nMullah, who took a great fancy to young Taib, so he was placed under\nhis tutelage, and passed his days studying Arabic and Persian in the\nvillage mosque, while at the same time all the tenets and rites of\nthe religion of Islam were inculcated and explained. A talib could,\nhowever, never attain the knowledge and experience expected of a\nMullah if he were to remain in his own town; he must travel and sit\nat the feet of several at least of the Mullahs most renowned for\ntheir sanctity and learning. So, when young Taib was fifteen years\nof age, he tied up his few books in a shawl, and set out from home\nto sit at the feet of the renowned Manki Mullah. The learned man\nhimself would not condescend to teach so immature a pupil, but he\nwas surrounded by his Sheikhs, who acted as his staff, and taught\nthe talibs who flocked there from all parts of the country. Besides,\nhere Taib met with Mullahs from Delhi, Lucknow, Bukhara, Kabul, and\nother far-famed seats of learning, contact with whom could not fail\nto widen the horizon and enlarge the experience of the pupils who\nsat around them, and listened to their arguments and dissertations on\nthe various schools of thought, and engaged in wordy polemics, which\npractised the budding Mullahs in the art of drawing fine theological\ndistinctions on the interpretation of a Hadis or the difference of\na vowel point in the Quran.\n\nOf a night the talibs would wile the hours away by telling tales\nof their respective countries or capping verses from the Persian\npoets. But Taib must travel and visit other Mullahs, too; so it\nhappened that, when seventeen years old, he visited Bannu, and\nlodged in the mosque of a noted Mullah near the bazaar. One day,\nwhen passing down the Bannu bazaar, he saw a crowd, and, going up,\nhe found an animated discussion going on between two Afghans. While\none was obviously a Mullah, the other seemed not to be; but with him\nwas a companion dressed as a Mullah, whose face struck Taib as not\nquite that of any of the Afghan tribes he knew. He began to listen\nto see if the enigma would be solved, but was still more surprised\nto find that the argument was as to whether the Ingil (Gospel) and\nTauret (Pentateuch) should be read by Muhammadans or not. The Mullah\nwas arguing that the books had been abrogated by the mission of\nMuhammad and the descent of the Quran on that Prophet, saying that,\nthough it was right to read them till Muhammad came, since then it\nwas only lawful to read the Quran. The stranger, on the other hand,\npointed out that Muhammad himself expressly referred his followers\nto the perusal and study of the \"former Scriptures,\" and clinched\nhis argument by quotations from the Quran itself.\n\nFinally, the Mullah, finding himself getting into a dilemma, obtained a\nrelease by the artifice with which we are very familiar by now. \"It is\ntime for afternoon prayers. I must hurry off, or my prayers will lapse\nby default,\" he said; and, folding up his Quran in his shawl, hurried\noff. Finding their champion gone, another in the crowd called out:\n\"All who are Mussalmans go away; he is no true Mussalman who stops\nto listen to these kafirs. There is no God but God, and Muhammad\nis the Prophet of God.\" And then with one voice all the crowd took\nup the last sentence and shouted in unison: \"La ilaha ilia 'llahu,\nMuhammadun rasulu 'llah!\" till the bazaar echoed with the sound;\nand then, with jeers and curses at the two preachers, in which Taib\nthought it the proper thing to join, the crowd dispersed.\n\n\"Who were those two kafirs?\" said Taib to a Bannuchi talib who was\nwalking away with him.\n\n\"The one in the dress of a Mullah is a feringi whom we call the\nPadre Sahib. He has built a hospital here, where he preaches to the\npeople about Hazrat 'Esa, and he has, indeed, misled many; in fact,\nthe other kafir who was with him was led astray by him: he is an\nAfghan from Laghman, and has brought disgrace on the Prophet. May\nGod destroy them both!\"\n\nTaib thought here would be good opportunities for acquiring the art\nof theological polemics, so he came regularly every day with other\ntalibs to support the Muslim champion and jeer at the Christians if\nthey appeared at all discomfited. He could not help, however, being\nstruck by the forbearance of the Laghmani, who preserved an equable\ntemper, though the talibs tried to excite him by all the opprobrious\nepithets with which their repertory is so well supplied. He saw,\ntoo, that the more difficult their champions found it to answer his\narguments, the more they resorted to the expedient of crying him\ndown with derisive shouts and jeers, and he began to have a feeling\nof sympathy, if not admiration, for him.\n\nThen one day he waited behind till the talibs with him had gone,\nand the Afghan preacher, seeing him lingering, took him by the arm\nand entered into conversation with him. They went on talking till\nthey reached the mission compound, and Taib accepted the invitation\nof the preacher to stop the night with him. Instead of finding him a\nreviler of the Prophet and a miscreant, as he expected, he found that\nall he said was quite reasonable and free from the rancour which his\ntalib friends always introduced into their theological arguments. Then\nthe peace and comfort of a Christian home, where the wife, instead\nof being a chattel or a drudge, was a real helpmate, opened up new\ntrains of thought in his mind. The Laghmani, too, was a Pathan,\nlike himself, with the same Afghan prejudices and predilections,\nand yet there was an undefinable something in him, a spirit of\nself-control and self-abnegation and inward peace of mind, that he\ndid not remember having met with in any Pathan before. In short,\nTaib, instead of being the guest of one night, as he had at first,\nnot without misgiving, consented to be, stopped on to learn more of\nthe new doctrine and discover the secret of the change that had been\neffected in the Afghan preacher.\n\nTaib proved an apt pupil, and the natural gentleness and fairness\nof his character made Christianity all the more attractive to him,\nand he applied himself with assiduity to the study of the Christian\nScriptures, and attended the Christian worship. There were struggles\nwithout and doubts within to contend against.  His former talib\ncompanions came in a body to see whether the Padre Sahib had kidnapped\nhim, and when they found him stopping in the mission compound of\nhis own freewill abused him and threatened him, but did not succeed\nin getting him away. One of the chief Bannu Mullahs came and argued\nwith him for hours, telling him he was guilty of mortal sin in even\nallowing himself to entertain doubts about the truth of Islam. But\nTaib had become fascinated with the Scriptures, and especially with\nthe teaching of the Gospels, as is often the case with those who have\nnever read them till adult life, and he had no intention of forsaking\nhis host till quite decided one way or the other.\n\nUltimately he decided that the Prophet Christ must indeed be the\nSon of God, the very Saviour that He claimed to be, and he asked for\nbaptism. It was thought better to let him wait a few months till he had\na maturer knowledge of the doctrines of Christianity, and had shown his\nsincerity by standing some of the fire of persecution. There was no\nlack of the latter. When he accompanied us to the bazaar preaching,\nthe foulest abuse was showered on him, and sometimes stones were\nthrown, and on one occasion, when he was caught alone, he received\na beating from some talibs and others.\n\nThe Bishop of Lahore visited the station about that time, and Muhammad\nTaib was baptized under the new name of Taib Khan, and was radiant with\ndelight at having been at last admitted to the Christian Church. I was\ngoing on a long medical itineration about that time, and he accompanied\nme, and was zealous in his new-found faith, taking every opportunity\nof drawing Mullahs and others into conversation about the claims of\nChrist and the witness of the Quran to Him. Those were perhaps the\nhappiest days he ever experienced.\n\nThen came a new trial. Taib had been betrothed to a girl in his\nvillage, and his relations, having heard of his baptism, came to\nBannu. In nothing is the honour and sharm of the Pathan more nearly\ntouched than in his marital relation, and the taunt that he had lost\nthe sharm which every Pathan so dearly loves, came nearer home to him\nthan persecution or loss of land and patrimony. One morning I found\nthat Taib had disappeared. No one knew exactly when or how, but he\nhad been seen with the people from his village the night before, and\nnothing more was known. I assumed that by inducement or force they had\ntaken him away to his village, and therefore would have gone by the\nKohat road; but they had already had at least eight hours' start,\nand the sun was now declining. However, no time was to be lost,\nso I got an ekka, or native pony-cart, and, taking with me a young\nBannuchi convert, Sahib Khan by name, started off in pursuit.\n\nFor a long time we could get no news of the fugitives; then, at a\nvillage thirty-five miles from Bannu, I was told that some Pathans\nanswering to the description of Taib and his captors had said their\nafternoon prayers in the mosque there and then gone on. Our pony\nwas too tired to go farther; it was already midnight; the next\nstage was eleven miles on, and they would certainly leave there\nbefore daybreak. What was to be done? While we were debating this,\nwe heard the bugle of the tonga with the mails. This runs between\nBannu and Kohat every day in the winter and every night in the summer,\nand accommodates three passengers. If the seats had not been taken,\nwe might go on in this. It so happened that two seats were vacant, so\nwe got in, and soon arrived at the next stage, a village called Banda.\n\nHere we alighted. It was 1 a.m. The village was silent and dark except\nfor the light of the half-moon. On the side of the hill above the\nvillage was the village mosque, and we knew that was the most likely\nplace for travellers to lodge; so we passed through the silent village,\nand, removing our shoes, entered the courtyard of the mosque. Thirteen\nmen were stretched on the ground fast asleep and covered with their\nchadars, the sheet or shawl which an Afghan always carries about\nhim and uses as a girdle or shawl during the day, and wraps himself\nup in cap-\u00e0-pie at night. As Afghans always sleep with their heads\ncovered in their sheet or quilt, we could not recognize the object\nof our search, and to wake all would mean certain defeat. But the\nBannuchies are at home in any night-work requiring stealth, so by\nthe light of the setting moon my companion lifted the corner of the\nsheet from off the faces of the sleepers without waking any of them,\nand the last one was Taib himself.\n\nA touch on his shoulder and he was roused, and recognized us. I merely\nsaid to him: \"Will you come back with me to Bannu?\" He answered,\n\"Yes, Sahib,\" and got up, wound on his turban, and left with us\nwithout another word. We had to walk back to Khurram, the village\nwhere we had left our pony-cart, and, finding it still there, drove\nback to Bannu with the lost sheep, found none too soon.\n\nMonths now passed in study and in learning the work of a ward\nassistant in the mission hospital, so that he might be able to earn\nhis own living, and use the opportunities of the mission hospital\nin working among the Afghans attending it. There was a Mullah in a\nvillage not far from Bannu, where he acted as the imam and village\nschoolmaster. At one time Taib had himself been his pupil, and was\nmuch attached to him. He had long been desirous of getting this Mullah,\nhis quondam teacher, or ustad, to study the claims of Christ, and one\nday he had visited him with this object. When the Mullah mentioned\nthat he had been suffering from some deafness for some months past,\n\"Come to the mission hospital,\" said Taib; \"the Padre Sahib there\nwill certainly cure you.\"\n\nThe Mullah hesitated at first when he heard that every day an address\non Christian doctrine was given to the assembled out-patients before\nthey were treated. He thought it hardly seemly that he, a Mullah and\nan ustad, should sit and listen to heretical teaching without being\nable to protest. However, tales of others who had been under treatment\nand recovered won the day, and he decided to go. \"After all,\" he said,\n\"I need not listen, and I can say extra prayers to atone for any sin\nthere may be in my going.\"\n\nHe came regularly till the cure was complete, but he did not keep up\nhis intention of not listening to the preacher; in fact, some things\nthat were said riveted his attention, and made him go home and search\nhis Quran, and his curiosity was aroused, and he talked over many\nthings with Taib Khan, and finally came to me to ask me if I would\nread the Gospels with him. He was careful to say that he had not any\nintention of becoming a Christian, but merely desired to read them\nbecause every Muhammadan regarded them with veneration as the word\nof God.\n\nThe Sermon on the Mount entranced him, and he used to kiss the book\nand place it on his head, as Muhammadans do with their Quran. He would\nread by the hour, but as I had not much time to devote to him, he used\nto betake himself to the room of Taib Khan, and sit there half the day\nstudying the Scriptures. This could not go on, of course; the people\nof the village heard of it, and said that they must have an imam who\nwas free from the suspicion of heresy; he lost his pupils, and at\nlast a Synod of the chief Mullahs of Bannu formally excommunicated him.\n\nHe then came to live in the mission compound, and spent some happy\nmonths in study, while supporting himself as custodian of the mission\nbookshop. Seldom have I seen so remarkable a growth of the Christian\ngraces in the character of any of our converts as in this man, and\nit was a great delight to see him admitted to Christian baptism,\nalready more mature in Christian character than many who had been\nin the visible Church for years.  He bore the most scurrilous abuse\nwith exemplary forbearance, and even when struck, as happened several\ntimes when going through the bazaar, forbore to retaliate, which for\nan Afghan is the acme of self-control.\n\nHe was a Seyyid--that is, one who claims descent from Muhammad--and\nwhen he came with us to the bazaar preachings, and stood by our side,\nthe people were furious with him, saying that it was bad enough\nthat he, a Mullah and a Seyyid, should have become a Christian, but\nto parade it there in the bazaar in that shameless way was too much,\nand if he did not desist they would certainly kill him. I recommended\nhim to abstain from accompanying us to the bazaar preachings, because\nI feared that the people would indeed put their threat into execution,\nbut he would not hear of it. He had read, he said, that our Lord said\nHe would be ashamed of those who were ashamed of Him before the world,\nso how could he refrain from showing publicly that he had become a\nChristian? He would think it an honour if he could obtain the crown\nof martyrdom for the sake of the Saviour in whom he had believed.\n\nOne morning he found an Afghan dagger lying outside his door. We\nthought perhaps his enemy had come in the night, but had been startled\nby the night watchman and escaped, dropping his weapon; or it might\nbe that it had been left there to scare him, as much as to say, \"That\nis what is waiting for you if you do not desist.\" As a precaution\nI told him not to sleep there any more, but gave him a bed in the\nhouse of a native Christian near where I slept myself; for it was\nsummer, and we were all sleeping in the open. Three nights later I\nwas awakened about one o'clock in the morning by the report of a gun,\nand, running over instinctively to Seyyid Badshah, found the enemy\nhad indeed come and shot him through the stomach.\n\nEverything possible was done for him, but the wound was mortal, and\nthat evening he passed away, his last words being: \"O Lord Jesus,\nI am Thy servant!\" There were many moist eyes as we carried Seyyid\nBadshah to his last resting-place in the little cemetery at Bannu. His\nhad been a very lovable character, and in his short Christian life\nhe had been the means of influencing more than one Afghan towards\nChrist. One in particular was a Mullah from the Yusufzai country,\nAbdullah by name; and we sometimes spoke of the \"four generations,\"\nas in these few years Taib had been brought by the Afghan preacher\nfrom Laghman, whose story is given in Chapter XVI.; then Taib had\nbeen the instrument in bringing Seyyid Badshah; and through Seyyid\nBadshah's influence this other Mullah believed.\n\nTaib Khan continued in the work of the mission hospital, but fresh\ntrials were about to test and sift him more severely than ever. The\nold friend of his boyhood, the Khani Mullah, and some relations\ncame down to Bannu, and while pretending at first to acquiesce in\nhis having become a Christian, recalled to him the memories and\nassociations of his boyhood. He became violently homesick. The old\nvillage scenes, his patrimony there only waiting for him to claim,\nthe girl to whom he had been engaged, and whom her parents were,\nthey said, still keeping unmarried in hopes that Taib would recant\nand claim her--all these old scenes and ideas came to him with such\nirresistible force that he came to me one day and asked for a month's\nleave, that he might revisit his village. I well knew the dangers\nto which he would be exposed, but I sympathized with his homesick\nstate of mind, and knew it would be futile to expect him to stifle\nit, so I gave him leave, and, warning him of the specious nature of\nthe suggestions and temptations which would be offered to him there,\nreluctantly parted from him. At the same time I told him that if he\ndid not return at the expiration of the month, I should conclude that\nsomething was wrong, and go in search of him.\n\nThe month passed, and Taib did not appear, so I started for Peshawur,\nand thence to Thandkoi, to get news of him. I took as my companion\nAzizuddin, an Afghan, who but for his conversion to Christianity\nwould have been a distinguished Mullah, but now was a simple\nmission catechist. It was a long walk of about seventeen miles\nfrom the station to the village, and we were caught in a tropical\nthunderstorm. Watercourses that had been all but dry an hour before\nwere now surging up to our armpits, and could only be forded with\ndifficulty. We reached the village like drowned rats, and the people\nwere kind to us and dried our clothes and gave us breakfast; but all\ninquiries as to Taib Khan were fruitless, though someone indeed told\nus that he had gone to the Akhund of Swat in company with the Khani\nMullah. We had to return to Peshawur after a bootless search.\n\nA fortnight later, while on tour in the Kohat district, news was\nbrought me that Taib was again in his village. This time I took\na convert from Islam with the very Muhammadan name of Muhammad\nHose\u00efn. Though children born of Christian parents are never given names\ndistinctive of Islam, yet when converts have such names, and are not\ndesirous of changing them, we do not advocate a change of name, because\nwe wish them to feel that the change is a spiritual and not a material\none. So Muhammad Hose\u00efn and I set off, but resolved to proceed more\nwarily than in my previous visit; so, instead of going straight into\nthe village, we sat down by a well outside the neighbouring town of\nZaida, and my companion, leaving me there, went into the town to make\ninquiries. Zaida is a larger and more important place than Thandkoi,\nand contains many mosques, while the overlord is a well-educated\nMuhammadan nobleman, an alumnus of the Peshawur mission school. He\nwas led to believe that Taib was secreted in one of the mosques there,\nbut would not be allowed to appear except perhaps at night.\n\nHe returned to me at the well, and by this time it had become known\nwho we were, so there was less hope than ever of Taib being allowed\nto show himself. As evening drew on we made as though we would return\nto Peshawur, but on reaching the first village on the Peshawur road I\nlet my friend go on alone, while I returned for a night quest. At the\nsame time I told him to wait for me till morning at the ferry over the\nKabul River, fifteen miles distant. I bound my turban over my face,\nas is the custom with Pathans when they wish to be incognito, and,\nthrowing my lungi, or shawl, over all, returned to Zaida. I entered\nthe mosques one by one, and finally discovered Taib seated with some\nMullahs in one of them. I was still far from the attainment of my\nobject, as to have made myself known to Taib under such conditions\nwould, of course, have been fatal; so I betook myself to the chief\nof the village above mentioned. He, being in Government service, was\naway, but his brother received me, and I told him that I had reason\nto believe that Taib Khan was being kept there against his will,\nand wished him to call the young man and inquire from him whether he\nwished to return to Bannu with me or no.\n\nThe chief, who had received me with the greatest good-nature, even\nthough he had been roused from his sleep for the purpose, acceded to\nmy request and sent a messenger to have Taib and the other Mullahs\ncalled. Taib was much astonished, and apparently ashamed too, when\nhe saw me; but when the chief addressed him, saying, \"Do you wish\nto stop here as a Muhammadan or return with the Padre Sahib?\" he at\nonce replied: \"I will go with the Padre Sahib.\" There was a great\nclamour from the Mullahs, on the one hand urging Taib not to leave,\nand reviling him when he persisted, and on the other insisting to the\nchief that Taib was really a true Muhammadan, and did not want to go,\nbut the eye of the Padre Sahib had a mesmeric influence on him, and he\nshould not, as a true Mussulman himself, allow Taib to go away with me.\n\nBoth Taib and the chief, however, stood firm, and the chief, turning\nto me, said: \"Now take him away with you, and look better after him\nin the future; but make haste, and do not loiter on the way. I will\nsee that no one leaves the village for half an hour; after that you\nmust look out for yourselves.\"\n\nI thanked him for his courtesy, and Taib and I wasted no time on the\nroad, and reached the Kabul River at dawn, just as Muhammad Hose\u00efn\nwas about to cross over.\n\nSome years passed, and Taib Khan became one of our valued mission\nworkers, and I hoped that he was mature and strong enough to stand\nany vicissitudes; but often one finds that, while a convert in his\nfirst enthusiasm will suffer much for the Gospel's sake, afterwards\nan inordinate idea of his own power and importance grows upon him,\nand he falls a victim to the blandishments of false friends who seek\nhis downfall.\n\nSo it turned out with Taib Khan: he, like most of the Afghan converts,\nwould not have shrunk from martyrdom, and, in fact, he had already\nundergone great hardships and sufferings for the Gospel's sake. He\nwas put in joint charge with another Indian Christian of a rather\nremote dispensary. The Muhammadans of the place became very friendly,\nand pointed out how needless it was for him to forsake his village,\nhis relations, and the graves of his forefathers just because he wished\nto be a Christian; let him be a Christian if he liked--it was no doubt\nwritten in his fate that he should be so--but let him go and live in\nhis village. With the knowledge that he had acquired of medicine he\ncould easily earn enough to support himself and his wife and child,\nand besides that he could claim the piece of land that was his by\nright, if he took the trouble to prove his title to it.\n\nThen followed a spiritual decline. Hypercritical objections to\nChristianity, which had never troubled him before, were made into\nexcuses for returning more and more to his original Muhammadan\nposition. Finally he went to live in his village, conforming himself\noutwardly at least to the Muhammadan standard, though, no doubt,\nprofessing in some respects still to have an attachment to the\nChristian religion. Who is to judge? Even through perverts Christian\ndoctrine continues to permeate the great mass of Islam, and God will\nundoubtedly bring back His own at the last. So, \"undeterred by seeming\nfailure,\" we work and pray on, leaving the result with Him who knows\nthe hearts of men.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nSCHOOL-WORK\n\n    Different views of educational work--The changed attitude of the\n    Mullahs--His Majesty the Amir and education--Dangers of secular\n    education--The mission hostel--India emphatically religious--Indian\n    schoolboys contrasted with English schoolboys--School\n    and marriage--Advantage of personal contact--Uses of a\n    swimming-tank--An unpromising scholar--Unwelcome discipline--A\n    ward of court--Morning prayers--An Afghan University--A\n    cricket-match--An exciting finish--A sad sequel--An officer's\n    funeral--A contrast--Just in time.\n\n\nThere are four attitudes towards educational work: that of the people\nat large, who desire learning, not usually for learning's sake, but\nbecause that is the portal of Government preferment and commercial\nsuccess; that of the priests and religious-conservative element,\nwho oppose it tooth and nail as subversive of the old religious\nideas and priestly power; that of the missionary, who finds therein\nhis vantage-ground for familiarizing the intelligent and influential\nsection of the people with the doctrines and ideals of the Christian\nreligion; and that of the Government, which, indifferent alike to\nthe motives of the missionary and the opposition of the Mullahs,\nrequires educated young men for administrative posts, and believes\nthat education eclipses fanaticism.\n\n\"Any parent sending his son to the mission school will be\nexcommunicated\" was the fatwa of the Mullahs at Bannu when the\nmission school was inaugurated; the delinquent would be unable to get\npriestly assistance for marriage, for burial, or for the other rites\nso essential to a Muhammadan's religious safety. But parents and boys\nalike were desirous of availing themselves of the advantages of the\nschool, so the Mullahs relented, and said: \"Let the boys go to school,\nbut beware lest they learn English, for English is the language of\ninfidelity, and will certainly destroy their souls.\" But without\nEnglish all the best Government appointments were unattainable, and\ntheir boys would have to be content with inferior posts and inferior\npay; so pressure was again brought to bear on the Mullahs, and the fiat\nwent forth: \"Let the boys read English, so long as they do not read\nthe Christian Scriptures, for the Christians have tampered with those\nbooks, and it is no longer lawful for true Muhammadans to read them.\"\n\nAgain a little patience and a little gaining of confidence, and\nthe Mullahs tacitly retracted this restriction too, and now many of\nthe most prominent Mullahs themselves send their sons to the mission\nschool. The Muhammadan lads compete zealously with the others for the\nScripture prizes, and in 1907 two Muhammadan officials gave prizes\nto be awarded to the boys who were most proficient in Scripture in\nthe matriculation class. Sic tempora mutantur!\n\nA significant occurrence was the visit of His Majesty the Amir of\nAfghanistan to the Islamic College at Lahore, when he made a speech,\nin which he reiterated the advice: \"Acquire knowledge! acquire\nknowledge! acquire knowledge!\" and went on to say that if they had\nbeen previously well grounded in their religion they need not fear\nlest the study of Western science might overthrow their beliefs or\nundermine their faith.\n\nThus most of the Muhammadan boys in our school have already studied\nthe Quran in a mosque, and many continue to receive religious teaching\nfrom their Mullah while studying in school. Thus they enter school\nat an older age than the Hindu students, who, except in family life,\ntake little count of their religion, and slight their priests. The\ndanger is obvious: faith in the old order is lost, and there is\nnothing but a conceited and bumptious materialism to take its place.\n\nHere it is that the mission school holds the advantage of the\nGovernment institution. The latter, in the endeavour to be impartial,\nexcludes all religious teaching, and therewith loses the most valuable\nmeans of moral training. The mission school, on the other hand,\ngives special prominence to religious and moral training, which\ngo hand-in-hand. \"I prefer sending my son to the mission school,\"\nsaid a Muhammadan father to me once, \"because he will be taught the\nreligious incentives to moral conduct there, and I shall not be afraid\nof his character losing its moral balance.\" And this was said by a man\nthoroughly orthodox and zealous in his own religion. There can be no\ndoubt that a far smaller proportion of the students in mission schools\nand colleges lose the religious instinct of their forefathers, and it\nis often the loss of this which results in moral instability and ruin.\n\n\"I never took an interest in studying my own religion till I was\ntaught Scripture in the mission school,\" said a pupil to me; and,\nof course, we encourage the boys not only to perform the religious\nduties inculcated by their own religion, but to study it thoughtfully,\nand see how far it satisfies the aspirations of their souls. A\nvisitor to our school hostel of an early morning would find the\nMuhammadans saying their prayers and the Hindus their devotions,\nand we encourage this, and give facilities for it by setting apart\nplaces for its performance, because it is a terrible thing to take\naway a boy's faith, even though it be a faith in a mistaken creed,\nand I think the man who has argued or bantered a young fellow out\nof his faith without bringing him to a higher faith has incurred a\ngrave responsibility. The real enemy of the Christian faith is not\nso much Islam or Hinduism, but infidelity and a gross materialism.\n\nIt is not education that is to blame for the unrest, sedition,\nand materialism which threatens to engulf India, but the Government\nsystem of education has undoubtedly much to answer for. God is ignored\nin Government schools, prayer is proscribed, and the teachings of\nEnglish socialistic and materialistic philosophers are poured into\nthe capacious but untrained minds of the students. The result is\nmental intoxication and libertinism. India has always been religious\nto the core, and learning and religion have gone hand-in-hand. The\nresult of their divorce is destructive to moral stability, and the\nNemesis of the policy will pursue the country for years, even if,\nas is to be hoped, the policy itself be discontinued.\n\nWhen I first went to India I had a prejudice against mission schools,\nand protested against a medical missionary having to superintend\none; but I have become convinced that the hope of India is in her\nmission colleges and schools, for it is in their alumni that we find\nyoung men who have been able to acquire Western knowledge without\nlosing the religious spirit, learning without moral atrophy, mental\nnobility without a conceited mien and disrespect for their parents,\nand breadth of view without disloyalty and sedition. I should like\nto see the Government close all their schools and colleges except\nthose for primary and technical education, and devote the money saved\nto the encouragement of private effort on lines more germane to the\nspirit of the country.\n\nThe Indian student is an attractive personality and well worth\nsympathetic study, for he is the future of the country in embryo. The\nschoolboy has not yet lost the ancient Indian respect, even love, of\nthe pupil to the master, and is therefore much more readily subjected\nto discipline than his English counterpart. His chief failing is\nhis incorrigible propensity to what is known in English schools as\n\"sneaking\"; schoolboy honour and esprit de corps are being developed in\nmission schools, but have very little basis on which to build. \"Please,\nsir, Mahtab Din has been pinching me.\" \"Shuja'at 'Ali has stolen my\nbook.\" \"Ram Chand has spilt the ink on my copy-book.\" If the master\nis willing to listen to tales of this kind, he will get a continuous\nsupply of them all day long.\n\nThere are few boys who are not ready, by fair means or foul, to use\na master for paying off a grudge against a fellow-student, and as\nthe schemes are often deeply laid and the schemers very plausible,\nthe master has to be very much \"all there,\" or, on the plea of\nmaintaining discipline, he will be merely a tool in a personal\nquarrel. Once two or three of the senior students came to bring to\nme serious charges against the moral character of one of the junior\nmasters. They were prima facie well substantiated by witnesses, but\non further investigation it turned out that the whole affair had been\nengineered merely because the master had broken up an undesirable\nclique of theirs. Such habits have, of course, to be sternly repressed.\n\nThere is much greater diversity in the social status of the boys\nin an Indian school than in English schools. In the Bannu Mission\nSchool every class of the community is represented--from the son\nof the rich landowner to that of the labourer, from the Brahmin to\nthe outcast--and not only do they get on well together, without the\npoor boy having to feel by taunt or treatment that he is unwelcome\nor despised, but I have often come across genuine acts of charity\nwhich have been done quite naturally and without any ostentation;\nin fact, they tried to keep it secret in more cases than one. Thus,\na poor boy, unable to buy his books, has had them supplied to him by\nthe richer boys in the class. In one case a poor boy was left quite\ndestitute by the death of his father, and some of the boys arranged\na small subscription month by month to enable him to remain at school.\n\nThe Bannu school course commences in the infant class, where little\ntoddles of five summers sit on grass-mats and learn their alphabet,\nto the big lads of eighteen in the fifth form, who are preparing for\nthe matriculation of the Punjab University. Visitors are sometimes\nsurprised to be told that many of the boys in this class are married\nand have children, but such is unfortunately still the case. At one\ntime even much younger boys married, but a school law was passed that\nany pupil marrying under the age of sixteen would be expelled. Since\nthen some twenty or more boys have had to leave because their parents,\nusually much against the boys' will, insisted on getting them married\nbelow this age. But many marriages have been postponed, and there is\na healthier public feeling against early marriage, and we hope that\nbefore long there will be no married boys in the school at all.\n\nI place great importance on the influence of the school hostels. These\nare the boarding-houses where those students whose homes are in the\nremoter parts of the district reside, and the contrast between our\nraw material, the uncouth, prejudiced village lad, and the finished\nproduct, the gentlemanly, affectionate student who is about to leave\nus, is an object-lesson in itself. The boarders, though comparatively\nfew in number, are really the nucleus of the school, and take a\nprominent part in matches and in school life in general quite out of\nproportion to their numbers. The missionary is constantly in contact\nwith them, and they come to him at all seasons, till the relationship\nis more like that of a father to his family than of a master to his\nstudents. Such students leave the hostel with friendly feelings towards\nChristians and Englishmen, which show themselves in after-years in\nthe hospitable and hearty reception which they accord not only to\nthe missionary, but to others who may be visiting their village.\n\nThere is a swimming-tank attached to the hostel, and the boys bathe\nevery morning except in the coldest winter months, when they bathe at\nthe well, where the water is several degrees warmer. Woe betide the\nboy who is found asleep after sunrise! for should the manager come\nround and find him so, he is hauled out by two of the monitors, who,\nseizing him by hands and feet, toss him far into the swimming-tank\nbefore he quite knows whether he is dreaming or awake. A similar\npunishment is inflicted on a boy using foul language, who is thrown\nin, clothes and all, for purification from its stain. At one time\nvisitors often got opportunities of seeing the punishment inflicted,\nbut it is getting rarer now as the standard rises.\n\nA strange fragment of frontier boyhood was Amal Khan. He was brought\ndown to us from Afghanistan by a friendly Sardar, who had taken an\ninterest in him. He was only about eleven years old, but his father\nand most of his family had been killed in vendettas, and his ruling\npassion was to grow big and strong, buy a rifle, and go in quest of\nthe murderers or their relatives. His gentle little face and winsome\nmanner seemed so out of keeping with the cold bloodthirstiness of the\nremarks he used to make with the greatest na\u00efvet\u00e9 that he was looked on\nas a kind of curiosity. Later on, when he had made some acquaintance\nwith Scripture, he used to like to hear the Gospel stories of the\ngentleness of Jesus--the Good Shepherd, the miracles of compassion,\nthe parable of the Good Samaritan, and such like; but even then the\npassion for revenge seemed to dominate his little breast, and he\nfinally went back to his village across the Afghan border in order\nto apply himself more seriously to the object of his fate.\n\nOnce a well-to-do Afghan brought down his three sons to place them in\nour hostel, and told me I might use any means I liked to discipline\nthem, short of shooting them. He had evidently found them too much\nof a handful himself. They had been accustomed to run wild in a wild\ncountry, and any idea of sitting still in a classroom to learn lessons\nseemed to have never entered their heads. They seemed so accustomed to\nthe use of knife and revolver that the other boys, Afghans though they\nwere, came to ask me to take precautions for their safety. Finally,\nwhen I had to \"discipline\" them, and that was not before very long,\nthey all three disappeared, and I never saw them till, some years\nlater, I visited their village.\n\nOnce a Government civilian wrote asking me to take a young ward of\ncourt into my hostel. The account of him was not promising, as,\nthough only sixteen, he had been turned out of two schools for\nmisconduct. His family was of noble Afghan descent, but had been\nbereft of most of its male members owing to the wretched blood-feuds,\nand this boy was now the head of the family. Hoping to be able yet\nto save him and to make him a power for good instead of for evil,\nas he must by his position become one or other, I consented, and a\nday was appointed for his admission. The day passed, but the boy did\nnot appear. I then got a letter from the officer responsible for him,\nsaying that as he had just murdered his younger brother, the hope of\nhis schooling must be abandoned.\n\nSome of the masters of the little Government primary schools in the\nmore remote parts lead very unenviable lives, especially if they happen\nto be Hindus. Their pupils often defy their authority, and they are\nafraid to chastise them. I have myself seen a boy allowed to sit in\nclass with a loaded revolver in his belt. The unwillingness of the\nmaster to enforce his authority is excusable, yet, had he complained,\nhe would merely have lost his place and his pittance. On another\noccasion I came upon a poor Hindu schoolmaster in a certain village\nwho was about to send in his resignation. He had punished a boy for\nplaying truant, and the father had just been round with a loaded\nrifle and dared him to touch his son again.\n\nIn the mission school the work of the day commences with roll-call,\nat which a portion of Scripture is read by the headmaster, and\nthe Lord's Prayer repeated. During the latter the boys have to\nstand. They do not object to this, but I remember once a Hindu boy\nbeing accused of having become a Christian because he had shut his\neyes and folded his hands during the prayer. He told me that many of\nthe boys really joined in the prayer, and certainly they have got to\nvalue and appreciate prayer. On a Sunday evening the boarders come to\nmy house to sing hymns from \"Sacred Songs and Solos\" and vernacular\ncollections, and if I omit to offer the usual prayer at the close,\nthey remind me of the omission; they do not wish to go away without it.\n\nOnce, at a cricket-match with a rival school, when the issue of\nthe game was hanging in the balance, and depended on the last man,\nwho had just gone in, making four runs, a Muhammadan Afghan, one of\nthe eleven, retired to a corner of the field and repeated the Lord's\nPrayer, closing it with a petition for the victory of the school,\nand returned to find the winning run just made! At meetings of the\nschoolboys among themselves it is not uncommon for prayer to be\noffered by one of the number, and at a farewell dinner given me in\n1908 by some pupils a very beautiful and touching prayer was offered\nby an old Hindu student, now reading in the Lahore Medical College,\nand all the other Muhammadans, Hindus, and Christians stood up for it.\n\nMissionaries were the first to open schools on modern lines, but at\nthe present time Muhammadans, Hindus, and Sikhs are endowing their own\nschools and colleges on the most lavish scale, and teaching their own\nreligions therein, just as the mission schools teach Christianity. This\ncertainly has many advantages over the Government system, where\nreligion is ignored. His Majesty the Amir of Afghanistan is alive to\nthe necessity of keeping up with the times, and is founding a college\non modern lines at Kabul, which will be the first step towards the\nfoundation of an Afghan University. During his recent visit to India\nhe selected a number of trained Muhammadan graduates from Lahore and\nelsewhere, who are to inaugurate the new scheme. He will, no doubt,\nencounter the opposition of some of the more fanatical Mullahs, who\nalready look upon him as having been contaminated with many Western and\nheretical ideas; but the ultimate result will be good, and the attempt\nshows that even for Afghanistan a new era is approaching. Perhaps\nit may not be long before a mission school at Kabul will receive the\nroyal sanction.\n\nThe following episode I relate in this place because it shows the\nstriking contrast between the uneducated ghazi fanatic of the hills\nand young men of the same race and antecedents who have passed through\nthe humanizing and civilizing influences of a mission school.\n\n\n\nIt is a lovely autumn afternoon in the little frontier town of\nBannu. The trees round the recreation-ground between the city and\ncantonments are becoming sere and showing variegated tints of yellow\nand brown. There is an unusual crowd round the greensward which forms\nthe station cricket-pitch, and as it is Friday, the Bannu market-day,\na number of Wazirs and other hillmen who are coming to and from market\nstop for a few minutes to gaze on the scene that lies before them,\nand probably to wonder in their minds what mysterious ultimate object\nthe Feringis have in the evolutions they are watching enacted, or\nwhether it is some preliminary to military operations on their own\nhill fastnesses.\n\nTurning to the recreation-ground itself, we find that it is a\ncricket-match between the garrison officers and the Mission High School\nstudents. The boys have been stealing a number of runs, and their\nscore is beginning to draw on towards a century, when the officers\nput on a new slow bowler, and a succession of unwary batsmen fall\nvictims to his wiles, and soon the innings is over with a score of\neighty-eight. The officers begin to bat, and the score rises rapidly;\nthen some good catches send several players back to the pavilion\n(here represented by some shady shisham-trees). The score reaches\neighty-eight, and the last player goes in, a young fair-haired boy,\nthe son of the slow bowler; the winning run is made, and the boy\ncaught at point next ball, and the innings is over.\n\nJust one week has passed. Again it is market-day, but no tribesmen can\nbe seen anywhere near the recreation-ground; instead we see long lines\nof khaki-dressed native infantry, while sentries and patrols guard all\nthe roads leading thereto, and all is silent as the grave. Then we see\na long procession slowly, silently moving out of the fort, long ranks\nof native infantry--Sikh, Pathan, and Punjabi Mussulmans--with slow,\nmeasured tread and arms reversed; then a gun-carriage surmounted by\na coffin covered with the Union Jack and wreaths, the masterless\nsteed, the mourners; a group of sunburnt officers of the Frontier\nForce and some more troops bring up the rear. It is the funeral of a\ndistinguished frontier officer, and the slow bowler of last Friday,\nnow borne to his last resting-place, the victim of a dastardly ghazi\noutrage the day before.\n\nJust facing the cricket-ground is a shady and flowery patch of ground,\nenclosed by a simple brick wall and containing a number of white\ntombstones. Here lie many gallant officers, military and civil--some\nkilled in action; others, like the present Captain Donaldson, killed\nby religious fanatics in Bannu and the neighbourhood while in the\nexecution of their duties; others, again, carried off by pestilence\nand disease. Here, too, in lowlier grass-grown graves, lie a number\nof the native Christian community. East and West, high and low,\nall gathered in one small plot, covered with the same Mother Earth\nto await their common resurrection--so glorious in its expectations\nfor some, so dread in its possibilities for others.\n\nHere, just facing the now deserted cricket-ground, the long procession\nhalts; the chaplain, just arrived after a hasty drive of ninety miles\nfrom Dera Isma\u00efl Khan, begins to recite the solemn verses of the Burial\nService, and the booted and spurred officers do their last brotherly\nservice and shoulder their comrade's coffin from the gun-carriage\nto the grave. The strains of the \"Last Post\" sound forth--a shrill\ncall to the sombre mountains round as the last rays of the setting\nsun fall slanting through the foliage on the faces of the mourners;\nsome sharp words of command ring forth from a native officer; the\ntroops wheel about, and all is solitude and silence.\n\nOnly the day before a new regiment was to arrive in Bannu, and, as the\ncustom is, the station regiments were marching out with their band\nto welcome them in. At the head of the regiment a group of officers\nwere riding, including the officer commanding the district, Colonel\nAylmer, V. C., and his Brigade-Major, Captain Donaldson. Just beyond\nthe fort the road narrows a little to pass over a culvert, and the\nofficer on the outside of Captain Donaldson fell back a little to\nmake room for him.\n\nBehind that culvert a Mahsud Wazir was in hiding, determined to kill an\ninfidel and gain a martyrdom in the most sensational manner possible,\nso that for many an evening in years to come the tribal bards might\nsing his praises round the camp-fires and in the village chauks. Just\nas Captain Donaldson, now on the outside rank, came abreast of him,\nhe sprang out; a pistol shot rang through the air, and the officer\nfell mortally wounded. There was, of course, no escape for the Mahsud;\nbullet and bayonet at once disabled him, though he lived long enough\nto be hanged that afternoon. Our first feelings are those of horror\nat the enormity of the act--killing a stranger who has never seen or\ninjured him--but who is worthy of our severer judgment, this young and\nignorant soldier (for he had recently served in the Border Militia),\nthirsting for religious fame by a deed of daring, or the Muhammadan\npriest who had assiduously taught him that all Feringis were kafirs,\nand that to kill one of them, in no matter how dastardly a manner,\nwas a sure passport to Paradise, and that eternal joys were awaiting\nhim as the reward of the valour and righteousness of his deed? Here,\nat any rate, we see the two extremes--the gentlemanly Afghan from the\nmission school, entering with zest and sport into the game of cricket\nwith the officers, and, so far from feeling any resentment towards\nthem, ready, if need be, to fight with them shoulder to shoulder in\nthe common cause of humanity, under the same flag, and defend them\nwith their own blood from the fanaticism of their fellow-countrymen;\non the other hand, the fanatical tool of the Mullah, who quails before\nhis ex-cathedr\u00e2 denunciations, but is ready at his suggestion to meet\na bloody death as a martyr in the cause of his religion.\n\nAs an example of the former, I might mention Muzaffar Khan, an old\nstudent of the Bannu Mission School, who risked his life to save that\nof the Political Officer of the Tochi Valley, with whom he was on\ntour. While that officer was viewing a Muhammadan shrine a fanatic\nrushed out and ran a dagger into his body; but, quick as thought,\nMuzaffar Khan threw himself on the would-be murderer and dragged him\nback before he had been able to inflict a fatal wound. The ghazi was\nsecured and hanged soon after, while the officer recovered, the stab\nhaving just missed a vital part, although it had pierced right through\nhis body.\n\nYet, but for the mission school, Muzaffar Khan might have been the\nghazi himself. Race and religion were the same, but their environments\nhad been different.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nAN AFGHAN FOOTBALL TEAM\n\n    Native sport--Tent-pegging--A novel game--A football tournament--A\n    victory for Bannu--Increasing popularity of English games--A\n    tour through India--Football under difficulties--Welcome\n    at Hyderabad--An unexpected defeat--Matches at Bombay and\n    Karachi--Riots in Calcutta--An unprovoked assault--The Calcutta\n    police-court--Reparation--Home again.\n\n\nThe reader must imagine himself on a flat open piece of ground covered\nby the hard alluvial earth known in the Panjab as pat. This kind\nof earth is somewhat saline, and has a universally smooth surface,\nunbroken by grass or shrub, which is utilized by the villagers for\ntheir games and fairs, and by the British for the evolutions of their\ntroops. Around are a number of Bannu villages, but the men and children\nhave all collected round this piece of ground in their gala-day attire,\nfor it is the Day of the Feast, \"'Id-el-fitr,\" or the Breaking of\nthe Fast, following the month of Ramazan, and is to be celebrated as\nusual by sports and merry-making. All the men who own or can borrow\na horse are mounted upon steeds of all descriptions, more or less\nrichly caparisoned, according to the ability of the owner. Saddles\nare of the high-backed pattern universally used in Afghanistan, with\na long wooden croup, which helps the rider to retain his seat. They\nare all carrying the long bamboo iron-tipped lance for their national\nsport of tent-pegging, or nezabazi, as the Afghans call it. Some of\nthe boys who are there as spectators are mounted two or even three\non a horse, and others, mounted on riding camels, are able to get a\ngood view of the games over the heads of the others.\n\nThe pegs, cut out of the wood of the date-palm, are fixed in the\nground, three or four abreast, so that an equal number of horsemen\nmay be able to compete simultaneously. The competitors, with their\nembroidered turbans and gay, many-coloured coats and shawls, form a\nbrave show at one end of the course, as they pass the intervening time\nin showing off feats of horsemanship on their prancing chargers. Then,\nat a given word, three or four strike their heels into the horses'\nsides--for they wear no spurs--and as often as not rousing their own\nexcitement and that of their horses by shouting out the Muhammadan\nKalimah (\"La ilaha illa 'llahu, Muhammadun rasulu 'llah\"), career\nwildly down on the pegs, and, if successful, gallop on triumphantly,\nwaving the peg at the end of their lances.\n\nThis goes on till men and horses are weary, and then a new game\ncommences. This is known as tod or kari. The people form a large\ncircle; then some young athlete, stripped except for his loin-cloth,\ntied tightly round, or secured by a leather waistband, jumps lightly\nout into the arena, his muscular frame showing to advantage as he\ncontracts his muscles under his glossy, well-oiled skin. Two other\nathletes, similar in attire and appearance, answer his challenge\nfrom the party on the opposite side. The endeavour of the challenger\nis to avoid capture, while yet allowing the pursuers to come near\nenough for him to give them at least three slaps with the open hand;\nwhile the pursuers in their turn try to seize him and throw him on\nto the ground, in which case they are adjudged the winners, and a\nfresh challenger comes forth. Both sides are apt to get very excited,\nand the throws are often so violent that bones are broken, or other\ninjuries received; and if that side believes this to be due to malice\nprepense, the game not unfrequently terminates in a free fight.\n\nThese amusements and games go on until nightfall, when they may be\nfollowed by some fireworks, and competitors and spectators, both\nequally wearied, go home to their feast of pulao and halwa. Such\nscenes have no doubt been common in Afghanistan for centuries past,\nbut the reader must now come with me to a different scene, and he will\nsee how Western influences are changing even the sports of the people.\n\nThis time we are in a large grassy sward between Bannu city and\nthe cantonments. There is a crowd, as before, of some thousands of\nspectators, but the football goal-posts and flags show that the game\nis something different. It is the day of the provincial tournament of\nall the schools of the province, and teams of the various frontier\nschools from Peshawur, Kohat, Dera Isma\u00efl Khan, as well as those of\nBannu, have collected here to pit their skill and prowess against one\nanother in games and athletics. The referee, an English officer from\nthe garrison, has blown his whistle, and the youthful champions come\nout, amid the cheers of their supporters, from the opposite sides of\nthe ground. The Bannu team are somewhat smaller in stature, and are\nwearing a uniform of the school colours--pink \"shorts\" and light blue\nshirts. The Peshawur team are heavier in build, and are wearing their\nblue-and-black uniform. The referee blows his whistle again, and both\nsides are exerting all their powers to reach their adversaries' goal.\n\nAs the ball travels up and down, and the chances of one or other side\nappear in the ascendant, the cheers from their supporters redouble,\nand as goals are attempted and gained or lost the excitement of all\nthe spectators is not less than may be witnessed at a similar match in\nEngland. The captain of the Bannu side is a native Christian, whose\nfather is a convert from Muhammadanism; but the other Muhammadans\nand Hindus in his team are loyal to him to the backbone, and carry\nout his every order with that alacrity which displays the new esprit\nde corps which has developed in our mission schools.\n\nOn his outside left is a young Hindu, who carries the ball past\nthe opposing half-backs and backs right up to the corner, from\nwhich he centres with great skill to the captain. The captain is,\nhowever, being marked by the other opposing back, so he passes to\na Muhammadan lad on his inside right, and then the whole line of\nforwards--Muhammadan, Hindu, and Christian--rush the ball through\nthe goal, amid the triumphant cheers of their side.\n\nThe game is restarted, and Peshawur makes a number of desperate\nrallies and skilful rushes, which, however, are all foiled by the\nvigilance of the Bannu backs and the agility of the goal-keeper, a tall\nMuhammadan lad, whose weight and height both tell in his favour. Once\none of the Peshawur forwards brought the ball right up to the mouth\nof the goal. The Bannu custodian seized it, but the Peshawari was\nupon him. The goal-keeper held the ball securely, awaited the charge\nof the Peshawari, who bounded back off him as from a wall, and then\ncleared the ball with his fist far up the field to the Bannu left\nhalf. The whistle for \"time\" is sounded, and the Bannu boys rush into\nthe field and carry off their victorious schoolfellows shoulder high,\namid great clapping and cheering.\n\nThe next day the final cricket-match is held. In this the Dera Isma\u00efl\nKhan boys are pitted against one of the Peshawur teams. Peshawur\nhas already defeated Bannu and Kohat, and the Dera Isma\u00efl Khan boys\nhave disposed of the other Peshawur team. All the technicalities of\nthe game are observed with as much punctiliousness as in England,\nand their white flannels show off well under the bright Indian sun,\nand but for their dark faces and bare feet one might imagine that he\nwas watching a public school match in England. To-day the laurels\nrest with Dera Isma\u00efl Khan, and they triumphantly bear off a belt\nwith silver shields awarded annually to the winning team.\n\nThe old order changes and gives place to the new. Tent-pegging will\nalways retain its charm, with its brave show and splendid opportunities\nfor the display of manly courage and dextrous horsemanship, so dear\nto a militant nation like the Afghans, and will always remain their\nfavourite pastime. But the simpler native games are gradually giving\nplace to the superior attractions of cricket and football, and the\ntournaments which of recent years have been organized between the\nvarious native regiments and between the different tribes inhabiting\neach district and between the schools of the provinces are doing much\nto create a spirit of friendly rivalry, and to develop among these\nfrontier people a fascination for those sports which have done so much\nto make England what she is. Some tribes among the Afghans, such as the\nMarwats, are very stay-at-home, and soon become homesick if they enlist\nin a regiment or undertake a journey. Others, like the Povindahs,\nare perhaps the greatest overland merchants of the East. They travel\ndown from their mountains in Khorasan, through the passes in the\nNorth-West Frontier, and traverse with their merchandise the length\nand breadth of India, and numbers of them engaged in the trade in\ncamels cross over the seas to Australia and take service there.\n\nWith the idea of developing the esprit de corps of the school, and\ngratifying their love of travel, while at the same time conferring on\nthem the benefits of a well-planned educational tour through the chief\ncities of India, I arranged in the summer of 1906 to take the football\nteam of the Mission High School at Bannu on a tour through a great\npart of Northern India. A number of colleges and schools from Calcutta\nto Karachi not only accepted our challenge for football matches, but\noffered us hospitality for such time as we should be in their town. Our\nteam represented all classes--Muhammadans, Hindus, native Christians,\nand Sikhs. The captain of the team was an Afghan lad of the Khattak\ntribe, Shah Jahan Khan by name, while the vice-captain was a native\nChristian, James Benjamin. Various difficulties presented themselves,\nbut all were eventually successfully surmounted. Stress of work and\nschool duties compelled us to make the tour in the slacker time of the\nyear--viz., in July, August, and September. This was also the hottest\ntime in most of the places we visited, and some of the matches were\nplayed in a temperature bordering on 100\u00b0 F., while the spectators\nwere sitting under punkahs.\n\nAt this time of year the River Indus is in full flood, and presents a\nremarkable sight as, bursting forth from its rocky defile at Kalabagh,\nit spreads out over the flat alluvial plain of the Western Panjab. In\nthe winter it may be confined to one, two, or three channels, each\nabout one to four hundred yards wide; but in the early summer, swollen\nby the melting snows of the Himalayas, it overflows its banks, and not\ninfrequently forms a wide expanse of water ten miles broad from bank to\nbank. At such a time the villages, which are built on the more raised\nareas of its bed, appear as little islands scattered here and there,\nthe people of which get to and from the mainland in their boats. It\nis then that the tonga, or cart, has often to be dragged over miles\nof submerged road, with water from one to three feet deep, before\nit reaches the place where it is able to transfer its passengers and\nburden to the ferry-boats, which are waiting to carry them across the\ndeeper portions of the river, and it may be that several changes from\nboat to cart and cart to boat have to be made before the traveller\nattains the farther shore, where is the railway-station and the train\nwaiting to carry him down to Karachi or up to Lahore.\n\nIn our case, after getting across the main stream in the ferry-boat, we\nput our luggage into two carts, and, removing our superfluous clothing,\nstarted to trudge through the inundated country to the station of\nDarya Khan, on the eastern bank. Sometimes there was a quarter of a\nmile or so of fields not yet submerged; sometimes the water was up\nto our knees or hips for miles together, and in one place there was a\ndeep channel about one hundred yards wide, where a ferry-boat was in\nreadiness for the luggage, but we enjoyed having a swim across. Two\nof the team, who were less practised swimmers, and had miscalculated\nthe strength of the current, found themselves being carried rapidly\ndown the stream; but just as some of those who had already gained the\nopposite bank were about to return to the rescue, they found their\nfeet on a sandbank, and were able to struggle across. The thirteen\nmiles across the swollen river took us from nine in the morning till\nfour in the afternoon, though it must be admitted we loitered several\ntimes to enjoy a swim in the cool waters of the deeper channels.\n\nWe found, too, that the football season differs in various\nplaces. While Calcutta plays football in July and August, Karachi\nplays from December to March, and Bombay in the spring. However,\neven those colleges which were not in their actual football season\nsportingly agreed to get up matches during our visit. In no place\ndid we find greater enthusiasm among the colleges and schools for\nfootball and a more open-handed hospitality than in Hyderabad, the\ncapital of the Nizam's Government, and here our team experienced\ntheir first defeat in this tour.\n\nWe had had thirty hours' travelling from Ahmadnagar, in the North,\nand the stations on this line were so ill supplied with refreshments\nthat we had been unable to get anything except some biscuits and\nsweets, and, arriving at Hyderabad at midday, we found the match\nhad been fixed for 4 p.m., so that the team had only time for a\nhastily-prepared meal before the match. The college of the Nizam\nput a strong team against us, and for the first time in the tour the\nBannu boys were distinctly outmatched. It was, however, nice to see\nwhat good feeling was evinced by both teams in this and nearly all\nthe matches of the tour, both sides fraternizing with the greatest\nbonhomie both before and after the matches, and friendships were made\nwhich continued long after our team got back to Bannu.\n\nTours such as this undoubtedly tend to promote that feeling of\nfriendship and union between the races of various parts of India\nwhich has hitherto been so little in evidence. It also tends to\nwiden sympathies and to lessen religious prejudices. Not only did the\nmembers of our team sink the prejudices which might have arisen from\ndiversity of religious opinion, but our hosts, too, represented all\nclasses and faiths. Thus, in Hyderabad the organizer of hospitality\nwas a Christian missionary, the Rev. Canon Goldsmith. A house was\nlent us for residence by a Parsi gentleman, and dinners were given\nus by the Muhammadans of the place.\n\nFurther south the Hindus were more in evidence, and entertained us\nroyally at Bezwada and Masulipatam. In the latter place we were the\nguests of the staff of the Noble College, belonging to the Church\nMissionary Society, and here an amusing incident took place. The boys\nin these parts are accustomed to play football with bare feet, and are\nlight, lithe, and wiry, while our Northerners were heavy, big-boned,\nand wore the usual football boots; so it came about that when they\nsaw our team arrive, their hearts melted within them for fear, and\nthey refused to play unless our boys consented to play barefooted;\nand this they refused to do, as they had had no practice in playing\nlike that. It seemed as though we should have to go away without a\nmatch, but a missionary there had a boarding-house of Christian lads\nof the district, and these sportingly declared that they were ready to\nplay. Both teams appeared at the appointed time amid a great concourse\nof spectators. The Bannu boys, with their football boots, looked\nmuch the heavier team; but the Telegu boys proved themselves much\nthe more nimble, and outran and ran round our boys time after time,\nand as the Bannu boys played very cleanly and were careful not to hack,\nthey did not suffer from want of boots; but, on the other hand, several\nof our boys took off theirs at half-time, hoping thereby to become as\nnimble as their antagonists. They, however, lost by one goal to love,\namid the greatest excitement. The teams which had refused to play were\nnow most importunate in begging us to stop for other matches, but as\nwe were engaged for a match next day at Guntur it could not be done.\n\nWith one exception, our Afghans had never seen the sea, and they\nwere all greatly desirous of making its acquaintance. I accordingly\narranged for the journey from Karachi to Bombay to be on one of the\nBritish India steamers which ply between those two ports. It was the\nheight of the July monsoon, and they had not realized what their\nrequest entailed. There was a strong wind on our beam the whole\nof our forty hours' journey, and the little steamer Kassara rolled\ncontinuously the whole time, the billows sometimes breaking over her\nfore-deck. All but three of them suffered the terrors of mal-de-mer\nin its worst form, and earnestly wished that they had never been so\nrash as to dare the terrors of the ocean at such a time. We arrived at\nBombay amid a torrential rain--a bedraggled, dispirited, and staggering\ncrew. It was pitch dark, and it was only with some difficulty that we\nfound our way to the Money School of the Church Missionary Society,\nwhere we were to receive hospitality. The shops were closed and the\nwatchman asleep, but after some delay we aroused him, got some tea\nat a belated coffee-shop, and lay down on the boards to wish for\nthe morrow. It rained almost continuously during our stay at Bombay,\nbut we managed one match with the City Club, of which the following\naccount appeared in the Bombay Gazette:\n\n\n    \"Match between the Bannu Football Team and the City Club.\n\n    \"The visitors opened the attack last evening from the southern end\n    of the Oval, and although the City Club at times were pressed, the\n    game was more or less of an even nature. The Bannu combination was\n    the first to score, and soon after followed up with their second\n    goal. Pulling themselves together, the City Club then made several\n    good rushes, and eventually succeeded in scoring. Soon after they\n    annexed their second goal, and equalized matters. In the second\n    half the game was intensely exciting, as either side tried to\n    get the winning goal. The visitors had a warm time of it, but\n    eventually succeeded in getting their third goal. A minute before\n    the close of time, however, the City men equalized by a well-judged\n    shot, and the match thus ended in a draw of three goals each.\"\n\n\nOne of the best matches of the tour was with the Y.M.C.A. of Karachi,\nwhich was thus described by the Sindh Gazette:\n\n\"An interesting football match was played on Tuesday evening last on\nthe Howard Institute ground, between the team of the Y.M.C.A. and\nDr. Pennell's team of Pathan boys from the C.M.S. High School,\nBannu. The first goal was scored soon after the match began, by\na soft drive, and was in favour of Bannu. Almost immediately the\nY.M.C.A. equalized by Bannu heading into their own goal during a\nm\u00eal\u00e9e from a corner kick. Soon afterwards the Y.M.C.A. took the\nlead through a clever run up by Wolfe, who passed neatly to Morton,\nwho netted with a neat shot. On the whole play was very even till\nhalf-time, when the Y.M.C.A. led by two goals to one. At half-time\nthe Y.M.C.A. lost the services of their outside right, who retired on\naccount of a weak knee. Bannu generally took the lead in attacking,\nand scored twice again, the last time from a stinging shot well up\nthe field. The Bannu team played consistently, and altogether without\nroughness. We are glad to have seen them in Karachi, and wish them\nall success in the remainder of their tour.\"\n\nFrom Guntur we travelled north to Calcutta, where a series of matches\nhad been arranged, after which we had arranged a number of matches\nwith the schools and colleges of the United Provinces of Agra and\nOudh, and those of the Panjab; but an unforeseen and unaccountable\nmisadventure brought our tour to a premature conclusion a few hours\nbefore the time fixed for our departure from Calcutta. It was the\noutcome of one of those waves of unrest which followed the outburst\nof the storm with which the Bengalis exhibited their resentment at the\npartition of Bengal. The Bengalis had organized a boycott of European\ngoods, and in the fervour of their campaign had placed a number of boy\nsentinels at the doors of the shops of those merchants who dealt in\narticles of Western manufacture. These were largely Marwari merchants\nfrom the Bombay Presidency, and they thought to relieve themselves of\nthis wasp-like horde of boy sentinels by circulating the rumour that a\nnumber of Panjabis and Afghans had come down from the North to kidnap\nboys and children whom they could lay hands on. This rumour was widely\nbelieved by the credulous mob of Calcutta, and, all unknown to us,\nwho were ignorant even of the existence of the rumours, our team had\nbeen pointed out as some of the probable kidnappers.\n\nWe had returned on the morning of August 23, 1906, from playing\na number of matches in Krishnagar, and were to leave Calcutta the\nsame afternoon to play a match the following day at Bhagalpur. The\nteam had broken up into two parties to get their breakfast in one of\nthose eating shops which abound in the Calcutta Bazaar, and I had\ngone along to Howrah Station to purchase the tickets. It was a hot\nday, and on my return I stopped at a refreshment shop in the Harrison\nRoad, near the Church Mission Boarding-House, where we were stopping,\nto get a glass of lemonade.\n\nI was sitting quietly drinking it in the shop front, when I noticed\nthe whole bazaar was in an uproar. The crowd was rushing to and fro,\nand the shopkeepers were hurriedly putting up their shutters. All\nignorant of the fact that it was my own boys who were being attacked,\nI quietly finished my glass and strolled back to our hostel, thinking\nthere was no reason why I should trouble myself about affairs of\nCalcutta which did not concern me. No sooner had I entered the\ngates of the compound when I saw one of our team--Rahim Bakhsh--his\nface covered with blood, and another one injured. \"Do you not know,\"\ncried one, \"that our boys have been murderously assaulted, and perhaps\nkilled?\" \"Where are they?\" I hurriedly asked. \"They are probably in the\nhospital by this time.\" A cab was passing at the moment, and I jumped\nin, and drove off to the hospital. Running up into the casualty room,\nI was horrified to find six of the team lying about with their clothes\nall torn and covered with blood and mud. Their heads had been shaved\nby the casualty dressers, and were so cut and swollen that I could\nnot recognize them all until I had spoken to them, and then for the\nfirst time I learnt what had happened.\n\nA party of nine had gone in a refreshment room, and were having their\nbreakfast. Meanwhile they noticed that a crowd of many hundreds had\ncollected outside. Scarcely realizing that they were the cause of\nthe crowd, after finishing their meal, they came out to return to\nthe Mission Boarding-House, but were met by cries on all sides:\n\"These are the kidnappers! Kill them! kill them!\" Even now they\ndid not understand the cause of the excitement, but when they asked\nwhat it was all about, and what was wanted from them, they were only\nanswered by derisive shouts and a shower of stones and brickbats.\nBefore they had time to organize any resistance they were separated\none from another, in the midst of a raging mob, who belaboured them\nwith stones and sticks until they fell senseless in the street. Two\nonly managed to escape--Rahim Bakhsh, whom I had met in the hostel,\nand one other, who had managed to get into a passing carriage.\n\nFive of them, having been reduced to a state of insensibility, were\ntaken by the mob and thrown into a back alley, where the blood from\ntheir wounds continued to flow and trickle down in a red stream\ninto the street gutter. One of them--Ganpat Rai--was rescued by\na friendly Bengal gentleman, who bundled him into his house and\nattended to his wounds, and afterwards sent him under escort to the\nhospital. Another--Gurmukh Das--was being belaboured by some ruffians\nwhile lying in the middle of the road, when an English gentleman passed\nin his carriage. Naturally indignant at what he saw, he jumped down\nand asked them what they thought themselves to be, beating a senseless\nman in that way; and if he had committed a crime, why did they not\ntake him to the police-station? Someone in the crowd called out,\n\"This Englishman is their officer: let us kill him!\" and, leaving\nthe boy, they all set on him. He defended himself for some time,\nwhen some ruffian, coming up behind, turned a basket over his head,\nand it would have gone hard with him had not some friendly natives\npulled him into the Ripon College, which was close at hand.\n\nWe would fain have got away from Calcutta as soon as the condition\nof the wounded enabled us to travel, for the unaccustomed diet and\nclimate was affecting the health of all of us; but we found ourselves\nprisoners to the will of the Government, who required us to remain\nin Calcutta as witnesses in the prosecution which the Government was\ninstituting, and we had to spend day after day of weary waiting,\nhanging about the police-courts of Bow Street Bazaar. The police\nhad secured a number of men who had been shown to have taken part\nin the riot, and most of these had secured barristers and pleaders\nfor their defence; consequently, there was a formidable array of\nadvocates on the side of the defence, each one of whom thought it\nhis duty to cross-examine each member of the team at tedious length,\nand regardless of some of the questions having been asked us time\nafter time by his brothers of the law.\n\nThe brow-beating and cross-examining which we had to undergo could\nnot have been worse had we been the aggressors instead of the victims,\nwhile the irrelevancy of the questions and the needless waste of time,\nentailing constant postponement from day to day, was exceedingly\ntrying to us in our wounded and feeble condition, only anxious to\nget back to our homes on the frontier. The barristers and pleaders\nof the defence professed notwithstanding to be very sympathetic\nwith us in our troubles, and one and another would come up and say\nsomething like this: \"We people of Calcutta are most sorry for this\nvery unfortunate occurrence. No doubt most of the men in the dock\nare guilty, and should be punished for so unwarranted an attack on\ninnocent travellers, but there is one man who has been arrested by\nsome mistake of the police. He had nothing to do with it, and should\nbe released, because he is quite innocent.\" As in each case the man\n\"arrested by mistake\" proved to be the one for which the barrister\nwas holding a brief, their protestations lost something of their force.\n\nA more pleasant feature was the genuine sympathy shown by a\ncertain section of the Bengalis, a sympathy which was voiced by the\nHon. Surendra Nath Bannerji, who convened a public meeting, in which\nhe expressed the regrets of the Calcutta citizens in an address which\nwas presented to us in a silver casket.\n\nAt last the court, taking pity on our uncomfortable condition,\nconsented to take our examination and cross-examination previous to\nthat of the hundred and more witnesses which the defence were going\nto bring, and which would have entailed some months' stay in Calcutta,\nhad we been kept back to the end of the trial.\n\nWhen we reached Bannu we were honoured with a civic reception, which\nwent far to make up to the members of the team for the discomforts that\nthey had undergone. The Civil Officer of the district, the Municipal\nCommissioners, and a great number of the citizens, met us with a band\nsome few miles before reaching Bannu, and we were escorted in amid\ngreat rejoicings.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\n'ALAM GUL'S CHOICE\n\n    A farmer and his two sons--Learning the Quran--A village school--At\n    work and at play--The visit of the Inspector--Pros and cons of\n    the mission school from a native standpoint--Admission to Bannu\n    School--New associations--In danger of losing heaven--First night\n    in the boarding-house--A boy's dilemma.\n\n\nPir Badshah was a well-to-do farmer of the Bangash tribe, not far\nfrom Kohat, and he had married a woman of the Afridi tribe from over\nthe border, called Margilarri, or \"the Pearl.\"\n\nHe had not to pay for her, because it was arranged that his sister\nwas to marry her brother, and in cases where an exchange like this\nis made nothing further is required.\n\nThey had two sons, 'Alam Gul and Abdul Majid. The father intended\nthat the elder should be educated, and one day he hoped would become a\ngreat man, perhaps Tahsildar (meaning Revenue Officer) of the British\nGovernment, so he was going to give him the best education he could\nafford; while Abdul Majid was to look after the lands and become a\nfarmer, for which it is not supposed that any education is necessary.\n\nPir Badshah was very orthodox and punctilious in all the observances\nof his religion, so the two boys were not to learn anything else\nuntil they had sat at the feet of the village Mullah, and learnt to\nread the Quran.\n\nThe mosque was a little building on the hillside. It was built of\nstones cemented together with mud, and in the centre was a little niche\ntowards the setting sun, where the Mullah, with his face towards Mecca,\nled the congregation in their prayers. There was a wooden verandah,\nthe corners of which were ornamented with the horns of the markhor,\nor mountain goat. Beyond this was the open court, in which prayers\nwere said when the weather was fine, and either in this verandah or\nthe courtyard 'Alam Gul and his brother used to sit at the feet of the\nold Mullah, reciting verses from the Quran in a drawling monotone,\nand swaying their bodies backwards and forwards in the way that all\nEasterns learn to do from the cradle when reciting or singing.\n\nWhen they had finished the Quran and learnt the prayers and other\nessentials of the Muhammadan religion, 'Alam Gul was sent to the\nvillage school, while Abdul Majid began to make himself useful on\nthe farm.\n\nHe used to go out with his father's buffaloes to take them to pasture,\nand sometimes he used to take his brother out for a ride on one of\nthese ungainly animals. Then, when the harvest was ripening, a bed was\nfastened up at the top of four high poles, and he had to sit all day\non this to protect the crops from the birds. For this purpose cords\nare fastened across the field up to the bed, and oil-cans or other\npieces of tin are fastened to them here and there, so that as Abdul\nMajid had all the ends of the cords in his hands, he could make a din\nin any part of the field where he wished to frighten away the birds,\nand sometimes was able to take half a dozen home for the evening meal.\n\n'Alam Gul, on the other hand, was being initiated into the mysteries\nof the Hindustani language and of arithmetic.\n\nThe school was a little mud building in the centre of the village, and\nthe schoolmaster was a Muhammadan from the Panjab, who found himself\nrather uncomfortable in the midst of these frontier Pathans, whose\nlanguage seemed to him so uncouth and their habits so barbarous. His\nmeagre salary of ten rupees (13s. 4d.) a month was somewhat augmented\nby his holding the additional post of village postmaster; but it had\nthis disadvantage--that when one of the villagers came in to buy an\nenvelope, and get the postmaster to address it, as probably he did not\nknow how to write himself, teaching had to be dropped for a season:\nfor it must be remembered that for a Pathan villager to send off a\nletter is quite an event, and he may well afford to spend a quarter\nof an hour or so, and give the postmaster a few annas extra to get\nit properly addressed and despatched to his satisfaction. Meantime,\n'Alam Gul and his companions would take the opportunity of drawing\nfigures on the sand of the floor, or of playing with a tame bullfinch\nor a quail, which they were fond of bringing into the school.\n\nTo make up for these little interruptions, the schoolmaster used to\nsit from morning to night, and expect his pupils to be there almost\nas long, only giving them an interval of about an hour or so in the\nmiddle of the day to go home and get their morning meal. Friday used\nto be a whole holiday, for it was on that day that all the men of\nthe village had to assemble in the mosque for the morning prayers,\nand when these were over 'Alam Gul used to go out with some of the\nelder village boys to catch quails in the fields. This they did by\nmeans of a long net spread across about thirty or forty feet of the\nfield. The quails were driven up into this, and the meshes of it\nwere of such a size that, though they could get their heads through,\ntheir wings became hopelessly entangled, and they fell an easy prey\nto the fowlers. The male quails were then kept in little string or\nwicker baskets for the great quail fights, which were one of the chief\nexcitements and pastimes of the village. This pastime is one of the\nmost universal in Afghanistan, and even well-to-do men think there\nis no shame in spending a great part of the day toying with their\nfavourite quails, and backing the more redoubtable ones against some\nquail belonging to a friend, while all the men of the neighbourhood\nwill be collected round to see the two champions fight.\n\n'Alam Gul had to spend five years in this school. At the end of this\ntime the Government Inspector came round to examine the pupils for\nthe Government primary examination. This was an eventful day for the\nschoolmaster, for on the report of the Inspector his promotion to some\nmore congenial sphere and the increase of his salary would depend. The\nboys, too, were all excitement, for if they passed this examination,\nthey would be allowed to go to the big school at Hangu or Kohat.\n\nThe schoolmaster would spend days drilling them how they were to\nanswer the questions of the Inspector; how they were to salaam him;\nhow they were to bring him a hookah if he required one, bring him tea,\nor do him any other service which it might be supposed would put him\nin a better mood for making a good report of the school.\n\nThe Inspector was a Peshawuri Pathan of portly presence (it is\ncommonly believed that among the upper ranks of native Government\nofficials a man's salary may be gauged by the girth of his body)\nand of supercilious manners, as though his chief aim in life were to\ncriticize everyone and everything.\n\nAll the boys had put on their best clothes for the occasion, and\n'Alam Gul had borrowed the turban which his father was accustomed to\nwear on feast days.\n\nOn the arrival of the Inspector, the boys hurriedly got into line. The\nschoolmaster called out: \"Right-hand salute!\" for though not a boy in\nthe school knew a word of English, it is the custom to give all the\nclass orders in that language. Then one boy was hurried off to hold\nhis horse, another to go and get it some hay, a third to get a chair\nfor the great man, while the schoolmaster himself was obsequious in\nobeying his every sign.\n\nThe boys were examined in Urdu, writing and reading, arithmetic,\ngeography, and Persian. There were five boys altogether in the top\nclass, and of these, to the delight of the schoolmaster, the Inspector\ndeclared four to have passed, among them being 'Alam Gul.\n\nHis father wanted to send 'Alam Gul to the Government school at\nKohat, but 'Alam Gul had a friend who had been reading in the Bannu\nMission School, and the tales that he had heard from him had given\nhim a great desire to be allowed to go there to study. His father,\nhowever, was opposed to the idea, because the Mullah told him that\npeople who went to mission schools must become infidels, because they\nwere taught by Feringis, who were all infidels, and that if he sent\nhis son there he would excommunicate him.\n\nThere would have been no hope of 'Alam Gul attaining his wish had\nit not been that just at that time the Subadar (native officer), an\nuncle of 'Alam Gul's, came to the village on leave from his regiment,\nwhich was stationed at Bannu, and it so happened that he had made\nthe acquaintance of the missionary in charge of the Bannu School,\nand had been very favourably impressed with what he had seen of the\ninstitution, and he offered to take 'Alam Gul back with him to the\nregiment, and let him live with him.\n\nThe father had now to propitiate the Mullah, so he killed a sheep,\nand made some luscious dishes with the meat, and some halwa, or sweet\npudding, which is supposed to be a delicacy to which the Mullahs are\nvery partial, and called his reverence in to partake of the feast;\nand when his heart was merry, he propounded the scheme to him.\n\nAfter he had heard the arguments of the Subadar, the Mullah relented,\nand said that he knew how to make a charm which, if it were always\nworn round the boy's neck, would effectually prevent him from being\ncontaminated by any heretical teaching which he might have in the\nschool; and if 'Alam Gul were admonished to be careful always to wear\nthis charm, he might safely be allowed to go with his uncle. So when\nthe leave of the latter expired, 'Alam Gul was put into his charge,\nand went off with great excitement, filled with hopes of what he\nwould do in the great school of which he had heard so much.\n\nThe day after his arrival in Bannu the Subadar sent 'Alam Gul down\nto the school in charge of a soldier of his regiment.\n\nThe soldier and 'Alam Gul came into the mission compound, and, seeing\nsome boys standing about, told them their errand. One of the boys\noffered to take them to the head-master. They were taken to the school\noffice, and here they found the head-master. He was an old gentleman\nwith a grey beard and a kindly face, Mr. Benjamin by name. When a young\nman he had himself been converted from Muhammadanism to Christianity,\nso that he was able to sympathize with the religious difficulties of\nthe boys under his charge, and he had been for thirty years head-master\nin this school, and was looked up to by the boys as their father.\n\n'Alam Gul's certificates were examined, and he was told what books\nhe must obtain, and that if he came the next morning he would be\nenrolled as a scholar of the Bannu Mission School.\n\nThis being an Anglo-vernacular school, where English is taught in all\nbut the very lowest classes, boys who come from the village schools\nhave to spend one whole year in learning English, in order that the\nfollowing year they may be able to take their place with the other\nboys in the class to which they are entitled; so 'Alam Gul was enrolled\nin this, which is called the \"Special Class.\"\n\nThe next day the soldier again brought him, and left him alone in\nthe school. Here he was surrounded by a greater number of boys than\nhe had ever seen before in his life--boys of all ages, all sorts,\nall sizes, and all religions.\n\nThere were some Muhammadans from his district, but none from his\nvillage, or that he knew, so he felt very nervous, and wished himself\nback again in the little village school on the mountain-side among\nhis old playmates.\n\nThen the letters of the English language seemed so uncouth and\ndifferent from the euphonious sounds of the Arabic and Persian\nalphabet, to which he had been accustomed.\n\n\"A, B, C,\" said the master, and \"A, B, C,\" repeated the other boys\nin the class; but he found he could not shape his mouth to these\nunfamiliar sounds, and tears began to flow at the apparent hopelessness\nof the task which he had undertaken with so much enthusiasm. However,\nday by day the work grew easier, and new friends and acquaintances\nbegan to be made among his class-mates. Every day there was some\nfresh astonishment for him.\n\nIn the village school he had played what they called Balli-ball,\na village imitation of cricket, played with rough imitations of bats\nand wickets; but here he found that every class had its own cricket\nteam, which played with real polished bats and balls brought all the\nway from Lahore. And above all was the School Eleven, composed of\nboys who were looked up to by young hopefuls of the lower classes,\nmuch as we might regard a County Eleven in England--boys who played\nin real wilayiti flannels, and had matches with the English officers\nof the garrison, and saw that the other boys in the school treated\nthem with the respect due to their position.\n\n'Alam Gul wondered if ever the day would come when he would find\nhimself numbered among this favoured throng. It was not long before\nthe captain of his class told him that he must come and practise, to\nsee if they could make him one of their class cricket team. He would\nhave accepted with alacrity had it not been for one circumstance,\nwhich gave his unformed religious ideas a rude shock. The captain of\nthe party was a Hindu! It seemed to him ignominious, if not subversive\nof his religion, that he should subject himself to the orders of a\nHindu class-fellow, and he would have refused had not a Muhammadan\nfrom his district, reading in the class above him, to whom he confided\nhis scruples, laughed at him, and said: \"You silly fellow! we do\nnot trouble about that here; everyone has his religion ordained by\nFate. What does it matter, be he Muhammadan, Hindu, or Christian,\nif he play cricket well?\" When his fears had been thus allayed,\n'Alam Gul joined his party, and soon became as enthusiastic a member\nof it as any.\n\nA year passed, and he was promoted to the first middle class, where he\ntook up the full curriculum of subjects, learning not only English,\nbut arithmetic, Urdu, Persian, Arabic, geography, Indian history,\nand elementary science.\n\nBefore he had been many months in this class he was attacked by\nmalarial fever, which is so virulent in the Bannu Valley in the autumn\nmonths. His uncle sent a soldier to say that he had sent him back to\nhis village in charge of a man of his regiment, and that he would\ncome back after recovering; so his name was entered on the roll of\nthose absent for sick-leave.\n\nAbout three weeks later his father himself appeared at the school\none day, and requested to interview the head-master.\n\nAfter the usual salutations were over, the father began:\n\n\"Sir, I have a request to make.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"I wish you to strike the name of my son off the roll-call of your\nschool.\"\n\n\"Why so? What has happened?\"\n\n\"He is ill--very ill.\"\n\n\"But I have given him sick-leave. He can stop at home as long as he is\nill, and then come back to school. His name can remain on the register,\nand he return when he is quite well.\"\n\n\"Certainly, he will come back if he recovers; but, then, he is very\nill. Supposing he were to die?\"\n\n\"If he were to die, then what matter whether his name be on our\nregister or not?\"\n\n\"Sir, the Mullah tells me that if he die with his name still on the\nregister of the mission school, he could never go to heaven.\"\n\nArguments were useless, and the head-master had perforce to satisfy\nthe father by giving the boy a leaving certificate.\n\nUltimately, however, 'Alam Gul recovered, and was allowed to go back\nto the mission school; but a few months later the regiment in which\nhis uncle the Subadar was was transferred to another station, and\nthe uncle wished to take his nephew with him there. But the boy had\nby this time formed a great attachment to the school, and begged to\nbe allowed to remain, so it was arranged that he should be entered\nin the school boarding-house.\n\nThis hostel accommodated a number of those pupils whose homes were\ntoo far from Bannu for them to attend as day scholars, and who had\nno relations in the town with whom they might lodge. Each boy is\nprovided with a bedstead and a mat, and he brings his own bedding,\nbooks and utensils.\n\nThe first night 'Alam Gul felt very strange. Instead of the small\ncrowded room of his house was a large airy dormitory, shared by some\ntwenty of his schoolfellows. At one end of the dormitory was the\nroom of the Superintendent, so that he could supervise the boys both\nby day and night. The Superintendent was a Hindu, but 'Alam Gul had\ngot used by this time to respect his masters, even though they were\nnot Muhammadan, and had overcome some of his old prejudice. As the\nSuperintendent treated him kindly, and there was a Muhammadan friend\nof his in the next bed, he was soon very happy there.\n\nAttached to the hostel was a pond of water supplied daily from the\nKurram River, in which it was the duty of every boarder to bathe\nregularly. This tank served other purposes too, as 'Alam Gul found to\nhis cost. It was the rule that all boarders were to be up and have\ntheir bedding tidily folded by sunrise. The Principal of the school\nevery now and again paid surprise visits to the boarding-house about\nthat time, and woe betide the luckless boy who was found still asleep\nin bed! Two of the monitors were told to take him by the head and\nheels and swing him far into the middle of the tank.\n\n'Alam Gul had not been many weeks in the boarding-house before one\nmorning he overslept himself, and before he had time to rub his\neyes or change his clothes he found himself plunged in the water,\nwhich at that time--the early spring--was cold enough to become a\nreal incentive to early rising.\n\nSchoolboys freshly joined were often found to have the bad habit of\nfreely abusing each other, and using foul language. The swimming-tank\nformed an excellent corrective for this too, because the boy found\nguilty was treated in the same way, being pitched in with all his\nclothes on, and allowed to creep out and dry himself at leisure.\n\nOnce, indeed, 'Alam Gul felt very much like leaving the school\naltogether. Every day in each class a period is set apart for the\nScripture lesson. At first 'Alam Gul did not wish to be present at\nthis, but when he found that all the other boys attended it without\ndemur, and remembered the power of the charm which the Mullah had\ngiven him, he thought it did not, after all, matter; he need not pay\nattention to what was taught, and so he went. But this day a verse came\nto his turn to read in which were the words, \"Jesus Christ, the Son\nof God.\" He remained silent. The catechist who was teaching him said:\n\n\"Why do you not read?\"\n\n\"I cannot read that.\"\n\n\"Why, what is wrong? Read it.\"\n\n\"That is blasphemy. God had no son. I cannot read that.\"\n\n\"It is written in the Book, and you must read it.\"\n\n\"I will not read it!\"\n\nThe catechist was not willing, however, to grant him exemption,\nand gave him some punishment.\n\n'Alam Gul had a fit of Pathan temper then, and there was a serious\nbreach of discipline, which could not be overlooked. Before, however,\nhe had time to arrange with his father for leaving the school, he had\ncooled down sufficiently to take a less prejudiced view of the case,\nand decided to undergo the discipline, and stay on with us.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\n'ALAM GUL'S CHOICE (CONTINUED)\n\n    The cricket captain--A conscientious schoolboy--The Scripture\n    lesson--First awakenings--The Mullah's wrath--The crisis--Standing\n    fire--Schoolboy justice--\"Blessed are ye when men shall persecute\n    you for My Name's sake\"--Escape from poisoning--Escape from\n    home--Baptism--Disinherited--New friends.\n\n\nAbout this time three circumstances occurred which brought about a\nchange in 'Alam Gul's ideas.\n\nThe first happened in this way. The captain of the cricket eleven\nchanced to be a Christian boy, and as two or three of the members of\nthe cricket eleven had left, he was in need of some fresh talent to\nfill their places; so a match had been arranged with a number of the\nboys of the school who were aspirants to places in the coveted eleven.\n\n'Alam Gul by this time had developed into a very steady player, who\ncould be relied upon to keep his wicket up at times when his side was\ngoing to pieces; and on this particular occasion he was one of those\nselected for trial, and it so happened that he made one of the best\nscores of the match. This was the commencement of the friendship with\nthe cricket captain, which went a long way to mould his ideas. Hitherto\nhe had rather fought shy of making friends with the Christian boys,\nfor fear anything should be said repellent to his religious ideas;\nbut as his friendship with the cricket captain increased, they had\nmany a chat--not only on cricket and school matters, but on deeper\nthings that concerned the faith in their hearts.\n\nThe second circumstance arose in this wise: On the occasion of a\npaper-chase the track had led through an orchard, and some of the\nboys were not proof against the temptation of helping themselves\nto the fruit, and the next day the owner of the garden came in high\ndudgeon to the Principal of the school to complain that some of the\nfruit had been stolen.\n\n\"You call yourself a mission school, and here are your boys coming\ninto my orchard and taking my fruit!\"\n\nThe next day the Principal had a roll-call of the school, and made a\nshort speech to them, saying that he much regretted that some of the\nboys had brought a bad name on the school by stealing plums. He then\nordered that the boys who had taken any should fall out and stand\nin a row in front. After much exchange of glances and hesitation,\ntwenty or so of the boys fell out. These were ranged up in line,\nfacing the rest of the school, while the Principal told them that\nhe intended to make an example of them as a warning to others not to\nsully the fair name of the school.\n\nOne of the printers from the mission press was then called, with his\nprinting-roller well inked, and this was rolled three times down the\nface of each boy, leaving one long black streak down the forehead\nand nose and one down each cheek, which they were not allowed to wash\noff for the rest of the day.\n\n'Alam Gul was rather surprised to see that one of these boys was a\nmember of the cricket eleven, who evidently felt the indignity very\nacutely. 'Alam Gul had been by his side during the paper-chase,\nand he had noticed that he had passed by the fruit without taking\nany; so he went up afterwards to console him, and ask him why he had\nfallen out with those who had taken the fruit. He told him that when\nhe saw the other boys plucking the plums, he had himself taken one;\nbut then he thought how they had been told in the Scripture lessons\nthat that was a wrong thing to do, and so he had thrown the plum away.\n\n'Alam Gul had hitherto never looked on the Scripture lesson as\na time for moral improvement, but rather as a time when fidelity\nto his religion required him to shut his ears; so when he found\nhis schoolmate with a conscience that had become so tender through\nlistening to the Scripture teaching that he even thought it necessary\nto confess to having plucked a single plum which he had not eaten,\nhis mind was filled with an inrush of new conflicting ideas.\n\nThe third influence came to him through the Scripture lesson\nitself. The Indian pastor was teaching them from that chapter of the\ngreatest pathos in all history--the Crucifixion of our Lord. When it\ncame to his turn he read the verse: \"Father, forgive them, for they\nknow not what they do.\" Not very long before he would have resented\neven having to read a verse addressing the Almighty as \"Father,\"\nbut now his heart was full of new emotions. \"How could the Prophet\nChrist pray for the forgiveness of enemies?\" He remembered how an\nuncle of his, on his death-bed, in making his last testament to\nhis sons, had enumerated his enemies and what evil they had done\nhim, and impressed upon them that revenge for those wrongs was the\nheirloom which he had bequeathed to them, and which they must regard\nas their bounden duty to perform. He remembered, too, how many of his\nown family had been killed in blood-feuds, and even now his uncle,\nthe Subadar in the regiment, took precautions against somebody whom\nhe suspected of being his enemy. If Christ was able to die in this way\nand His teaching had still such moral power, how was it that Muhammad,\nwho professed that his teaching had superseded that of Christ, had\nnot been able to give his followers an equal power? Why were there\nMuhammadan tribes always torn with discord and feud and bloodshed on\nevery side, and by those who professed to do such deeds in his name?\n\n'Alam Gul now began to study the Gospels for himself, and an interest\nwas awakened in his heart which surprised him; and instead of trying to\nshirk the Scripture lessons, he began always to look forward to them,\nand asked many questions which showed the greater insight that he was\ngaining into their meaning. The next vacation, when he went home, he\ntook an early opportunity of visiting the old Mullah who had given\nhim the charm when first he joined the school five years before,\nand asked him about some of his difficulties. He wanted to know\nwhy the Muhammadans always spoke of the Book of the Law and of the\nGospels with respect, and yet would not allow people to read them,\nand why the Gospels spoke of Christ as the Son of God, which he had\nbeen taught to consider blasphemy.\n\nThe Mullah, however, did not deign to try to solve his difficulties,\nbut became very angry, and abused him roundly, and that evening\nwent to his father to tell him to take his son away before he became\nutterly corrupted.\n\n'Alam Gul got a great beating that night, and ran away to the house\nof a relation, and did not come back for three days, and asked no\nfurther questions.\n\nHis father, no doubt, thought that the beating had had its effect, and,\nwhen the time arrived for rejoining school, allowed him to go back.\n\nThe crisis came on the day of a school picnic. It was a May morning,\nand the masters and boys were going to a shady spot on the banks of\nthe Kurram River, where the day would be spent in aquatic sports\nand merry-making. 'Alam Gul sought counsel of the missionary in a\nquiet spot under the trees, where he might unburden his heart without\nbeing disturbed.\n\n\"Does Christ demand that I should confess Him openly? Should I not\nwait till my parents are dead?--because it will be a great trouble\nto them when they hear that I have become a Christian, and they will\nnever want to see me again. Cannot I be a secret follower, and continue\nto live as a Muhammadan, and attend the prayers in the mosque?\"\n\n\"If any man confess Me not before men, neither will I confess him\nbefore My Father. If any man love father or mother more than Me, he is\nnot worthy of Me.\" \"Let the dead bury their dead, but follow thou Me.\"\n\nHow pulsating with the deepest verities of life these sayings seem,\nwhen we put them forward to such an inquirer in answer to such\nquestions! How charged with the magnetism which draws the seeking\nsoul almost in spite of itself--a two-edged sword dividing asunder\nthe bones and the marrow!\n\n\"No; you must go home and tell your father what your intention\nis. Persecution must come, sooner or later, and unless you are\nwilling to bear it for Christ's sake now, how can you be received\ninto the company of His soldiers? You have a duty to your parents,\nfrom which you cannot absolve yourself, and no blessing of God will\nrest on your actions when you are deceiving them, and till you are\nof full age you are bound to obey them.\"\n\n'Alam Gul was awake a long time that night after the lights were out\nand all the other boys in the dormitory were fast asleep under their\nquilts. At last he got up, and, with his pocket-knife, cut the cord\nthat still bound the charm that the old Mullah had made for him, and\nstuffed it away among his books. He then knelt down by his bedside for\na few minutes, and when he got into bed again he had made his choice,\nand his mind was made up; but there were to be many vicissitudes\nbefore the goal was reached.\n\n'Alam Gul was in the matriculation class now, and a member of the\ncoveted cricket eleven. He still performed his Muhammadan prayers,\nand kept the fast of Ramazan; but the moments which gave him most\nsatisfaction in the day were those in which he took his little\nEnglish Testament into a quiet corner on the roof of the school-house,\nand read the words of our Lord, calling the weary and sin-laden to\nHimself, and, after set portions of the Muhammadan prayers were over,\nin the part reserved for the munajat, or private petitions, he would\npray earnestly in the name of Christ that God would make the way\nclear to him to become His disciple, and to incline the hearts of\nhis relations thereto as well. He had to stand fire, too, among his\nschool-fellows, now that it had become known that he was an inquirer;\nbut his position in the school, and the fact that he was nearly the\nbest bat in the cricket team, and therefore of value to the honour\nof the school in the inter-school tournaments, prevented them from\ncarrying the persecution very far, and it was more banter and sneers\nthan anything worse. A few irreconcilables, however, tried to injure\nhis reputation by spreading lying rumours about him, even going to the\nhead-master with some concocted evidence against his moral character,\nwhich, had that official been less conversant with the wiles of\nthe backbiters, might have resulted in his expulsion from school,\nbut actually resulted in their utter discomfiture.\n\nOne Muhammadan youth, who professed great zeal for his religion,\nwas always starting some recriminating religious discussion, till the\nother boarders passed a resolution that any of their number starting\nsuch a discussion was to be fined one rupee.\n\nBefore the lapse of many days there were the two at it again, hammer\nand tongs, in the middle of the dinner-hour. A schoolboy court was\nappointed to name the culprit responsible for starting the discussion,\nand it is a pleasing tribute to the schoolboys' love of fair play that,\nthough the judges chosen were one Muhammadan and one Hindu, they both\ndecided that the Muhammadan was guilty, and should be fined. The latter\ndeclared that he was going to pay no fine! They then held a fresh\ncouncil, to settle how they were to bring the pressure required for\nthe carrying out of their law. At last one boy said: \"I have it. Till\nhe pays the fine, not one of us is to speak to him or have anything\nto do with him, on the pain of a fine of one anna.\" This bright idea\nwas passed unanimously, and, after a few anna fines had been levied,\nthe recalcitrant member gave in. Sweets were bought with the proceeds,\nthere was a general merry-making, and no more disturbances of the\npeace on 'Alam Gul's account, who was tacitly allowed to have what\nopinions and fads he liked without further interference.\n\nHe had not so easy a time, however, when the vacation came round and\nhe went home, and in much fear and trembling made his longings known\nto his father.\n\nFirst they resorted to blandishments, reminded him of his good family\nand noble ancestors, and of the bright future which lay before so\nclever and well educated a boy. His brother was about to be married;\neven then they were preparing for the wedding-guests. This would have\nto be all stopped, for the family of the bride would refuse to give\nher into a family disgraced, and then his brother would die of shame,\nand no one would be able to wipe the stain away for ever.\n\nWhen these tactics failed, the old Mullah was called. He was too\nwroth to argue when he found that 'Alam Gul no longer wore the charm,\nand abused him with all the epithets that he could think of, and left\nthe house threatening to excommunicate the whole family. Later on he\ncame back in a calmer mood with two older Mullahs from a neighbouring\nvillage, who were much revered for their learning and sanctity, and\nthese surrounded 'Alam Gul, and argued for hours to show him the error\nof his ways and the corruption of the Christian Scriptures. 'Alam\nGul had one argument, to which they had no answer to give:\n\n\"If you say these Scriptures are corrupted by the Christians, then\nwhere have you genuine copies by comparison with which we can see\nthe proof of it? Had the Muhammadans themselves no copies of the\nScriptures which they were able to preserve from those wicked people\nwho wanted to corrupt them?\"\n\nFinding their arguments of no avail, they formally cursed him with\nall the anathemas of the Quran, both for this life and the next.\n\nThe next trial was to be the most heart-searching and trying of all,\nand 'Alam Gul felt he would ten times rather have had the anathemas\nof the Mullahs or the beatings of his enemies. It was when he went\ninto the zenana. His mother was there with other women, and as soon\nas they saw him they began weeping and loudly lamenting. His mother\ncame with her hair dishevelled, and, falling down before him, beat\nher breast, and bewailed with loud cries and frantic gesticulations\nthat she had borne a son who was going to disgrace the family and\nbring down her grey hairs with sorrow to the grave.\n\n'Alam Gul burst into tears, and besought his mother to be comforted;\nsaying that she had been misinformed as to what he was going to do,\nand who the Christians were. He was not going to forsake her, but\nwould serve her to the day of his death.\n\n\"I adjure thee,\" she said, \"swear to me that you will never go near\nthose Christians again or read their books.\"\n\n\"No, mother, I cannot do that; for their book is the Kalam Ullah\n[the Word of God], and God is with them of very truth.\"\n\nThe women were still weeping, and 'Alam Gul persuading, when his\nfather came in, and, seizing 'Alam Gul, pulled him outside, and,\ngetting a thick stick, beat him till he was black and blue all over,\nand then left him with a kick and a curse.\n\nThat night 'Alam Gul found that all his clothes had been taken away,\nand he was left with only a loin-cloth. This had been done lest\nhe should run away and escape, they thinking that in a few days,\nfinding the hopelessness of his position, he would relent and submit.\n\nSix days he remained thus, being given nothing more than a bit of\nstale bread once a day and a little water. Still he remained firm,\nand refused to go to the mosque or repeat the Kalimah; and when he\nfound himself alone for a time, he knelt down and prayed for help\nand deliverance.\n\nOn the seventh morning an uncle came, and sat down by his side, and\nbegan to commiserate him and profess his sympathy for the hardships\nhe was undergoing. He then untied the corner of his shawl, and got\nout some sweetmeats and gave them to 'Alam Gul, as some amends for the\nprivations he had been undergoing. Something, however, in his demeanour\nmade 'Alam Gul suspicious, and he excused himself for not eating the\nsweetmeats at once, and put them in a handkerchief by his side.\n\nWhen his uncle had departed, he gave some of the sweetmeats to one\nof the dogs in the house. Very shortly afterwards the dog began to\nvomit and show signs of pain. He was now sure that the plan had been\nto poison him in such a way that his death might be reported as due to\nsome ordinary sickness, and he made up his mind to escape at all costs.\n\nIt was midday, and nearly everyone was enjoying a sleep during the\noppressive noon of a summer day. Searching about, he found a shirt\nand an old turban, and, donning these, he slipped out, and was soon\nthrough the deserted village street out in the fields beyond. He\ndared not take the direct route to Bannu, for he knew that pursuit\nwould be made, and the pursuers would probably take that direction;\nso he turned northwards towards Kohat, and came to the village of a\nschoolmate, who gave him shelter and food for that night in his house\nand a pair of shoes for his feet, which had become blistered on the\nhot rocks over which he had been travelling.\n\nThe next night he slept in a mosque, and then reached the highroad\nfrom Kohat to Bannu, and got a lift on a bullock-waggon travelling\nto the salt-mines of Bahadur Khel. On the fifth day after leaving\nhis village, very footsore, tired, and ragged, he appeared in the\nmission compound at Bannu.\n\nHe was now nineteen years of age, so nothing stood in the way of his\nbeing admitted as a catechumen, of which he was greatly desirous,\nand the following Easter he was baptized into the Christian Church.\n\nHe had, of course, been publicly disowned and disinherited by his\nfamily, who now regarded him as one dead; but he was supremely happy\nin his faith, and was always seeking opportunities of leading, not\nonly his schoolmates, but also Mullahs and others whom he encountered\nin the bazaar or elsewhere, into conversation concerning the claims\nof Jesus Christ.\n\nHis original acquaintance with the Quran and Islam had been deepened\nand extended by the study of books of controversy and his knowledge\nof Christianity by daily Bible study, so that even the Mullahs found\nthey had to deal with one who could not be silenced by the threadbare\narguments and trite sophisms which were all that most of them knew\nhow to use.\n\nThere was a great crowd of students and others both inside and outside\nthe native church on the day when, arrayed in clean white clothes,\nhe came to receive the rite of baptism, and the deepest silence was\nupon all when he answered a clear, unfaltering \"I do\" to each of the\nquestions of the native clergyman who was officiating. His reception\nafterwards by his Muhammadan acquaintances was not altogether a hostile\none. Students form a remarkable contrast to the ignorant portion of the\npopulation in the comparative absence of religious fanaticism and their\nability to recognize and honour sincerity of motive, even in those\nwho are to them apostates, and many of his Muhammadan schoolmates\nmaintained their friendship with him, and others who at first had\njoined in the opposition and abuse of the crowd came round before\nlong and resumed their old relations as though nothing had happened.\n\nJudging by other cases, even his own relations will probably resume\nfriendly relations after the lapse of time has enabled them to do so\nwithout incurring a fresh stigma among the villagers, and they will\nbe all the more ready to do this if he has won for himself a good\nposition in Government service, and is able to help them to meet the\ndunnings of the money-lender in a bad season.\n\nWhen 'Alam Gul had to find some way of earning his own living, he\nfound many avenues closed to him. The Muhammadans would not give him\nwork, and even in Government offices, if his immediate superior was at\nall a bigoted Muhammadan, he would find it impossible to stop there\nwithout getting involved in traps that had been laid for him almost\nevery day, and which would ultimately and inevitably result in his\ndismissal in disgrace.\n\nFinally he obtained a post in the Government Telegraph Office, and,\nby his industry and punctuality, rapidly made progress and attained\na position which was a universal silencer to the common taunt,\n\"He has only become a Christian for the sake of bread,\" with which\nyoung converts are assailed, even when the charge is palpably untrue.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nAFGHAN WOMEN\n\n    Their inferior position--Hard labour--On the march--Suffering\n    in silence--A heartless husband--Buying a wife--Punishment for\n    immorality--Patching up an injured wife--A streaky nose--Evils of\n    divorce--A domestic tragedy--Ignorance and superstition--\"Beautiful\n    Pearl\"--A tragic case--A crying need--Lady doctors--The mother's\n    influence.\n\n\nIn all Muhammadan countries women hold a very inferior, almost\nhumiliating, position, being regarded as very distinctly existing\nfor the requirements of the stronger sex. In Afghanistan they labour\nunder this additional hardship, that the men are nearly all cruel\nand jealous to a degree in their disposition, and among the lower\nsections of the community the severe conditions of life compel the\nwomen to labour very hard and continuously--labour which the men\nthink it beneath their dignity to lighten or share.\n\nThe wife has to grind the corn, fetch the water, cook the food, tend\nthe children, keep the house clean--in fact, do everything except\nshopping, from which she is strictly debarred. The husband will\nnot only buy the articles of food required for the daily household\nconsumption, but he will buy her dresses too--or, at least, the\nmaterial for them--and the lady must be content with his selection,\nand make up her dresses at home with what her lord is pleased to\nbring her. How would their sisters in England approve of that?\n\nThe fetching of the water is often no sinecure. If the well is in the\nvillage precincts it may be pleasant enough, as it no doubt affords\nexcellent opportunity for retailing all the village gossip; but in\nsome places, as, for instance, during summer in Marwat, the nearest\nwater is six or seven, or even ten, miles away, and the journey\nthere and back has to be made at least every other day. In Marwat\nthe women saddle up their asses with the leathern bottles made from\ngoatskins long before daybreak, and the nocturnal traveller sometimes\nmeets long strings of these animals going to or returning from the\nwatering-place under the care of a number of the village women and\ngirls. The animals in these cases have to be satisfied with what they\ndrink while at the source of the water-supply.\n\nWhen the women get back to their houses it will be still scarcely\ndawn, but they have a busy time before them, which will occupy them\ntill midday. First the grain has to be ground in the hand-mills; then\nyesterday's milk churned; then the cows and goats milked; then the\nfood cooked, the house cleaned, and a hundred and one other duties\nattended to which only a woman could describe.\n\nWhen on the march the women are heavily loaded. They can often be seen\nnot only carrying the children and household utensils, but driving\nthe pack animals too, while the lordly men are content to carry only\ntheir rifle, or at most give a lift to one of the children. Yet it is\nnot because the men are callous, but because it is the custom. Their\nfathers and forefathers did the same, and the women would be the\nfirst to rebuke a young wife who ventured to complain or object.\n\nSome of the women of the Povindah tribe are splendid specimens of\nrobust womanhood. These people travel hundreds of miles from Khorasan\nto India, carrying their families and household goods with them, and\nthe women can load and manage the camels almost as well as the men,\nand carry burdens better. The outdoor, vigorous, active life has made\nthem healthy, muscular, and strong, and buxom and good-looking withal,\nthough their good looks do not last so long as they would were their\nlife less rough. But when a baby is born, then comes the suffering. The\ncaravan cannot halt, and there is seldom a camel or ox available for\nthe woman to ride. She usually has to march on the next day, with the\nbaby in her arms or slung over her shoulder, as though nothing had\nhappened. Then it is that they endure sufferings which bring them to\nour hospital, often injured for life. If there is no hospital, well,\nthey just suffer in silence, or--they die.\n\nThe Afghan noblemen maintain the strictest parda, or seclusion, of\ntheir women, who pass their days monotonously behind the curtains\nand lattices of their palace prison-houses, with little to do except\ncriticize their clothes and jewels and retail slander; and Afghan\nboys of good family suffer much moral injury from being brought up\nin the effeminate and voluptuous surroundings of these zenanas. The\npoorer classes cannot afford to seclude their women, so they try to\nsafeguard their virtue by the most barbarous punishments, not only for\nactual immorality, but for any fancied breach of decorum. A certain\ntrans-frontier chief that I know, on coming to his house unexpectedly\none day, saw his wife speaking to a neighbour over the wall of his\ncompound. Drawing his sword in a fit of jealousy, he struck off her\nhead and threw it over the wall, and said to the man: \"There! you are\nso enamoured of her, you can have her.\" The man concerned discreetly\nmoved house to a neighbouring village.\n\nThe recognized punishment in such a case of undue familiarity would\nhave been to have cut off the nose of the woman and, if possible,\nof the man too. This chief, in his anger, exceeded his right, and if\nhe had been a lesser man and the woman had had powerful relations,\nhe might have been brought to regret it. But as a rule a woman has no\nredress; she is the man's property, and a man can do what he likes\nwith his own. This is the general feeling, and no one would take\nthe trouble or run the risk of interfering in another man's domestic\narrangements. A man practically buys his wife, bargaining with her\nfather, or, if he is dead, with her brother; and so she becomes his\nproperty, and the father has little power of interfering for her\nprotection afterwards, seeing he has received her price.\n\nThe chief exception is marriage by exchange. Suppose in each of\ntwo families there is an unmarried son and an unmarried daughter;\nthen they frequently arrange a mutual double marriage without any\npayments. In such cases the condition of the wives is a little, but\nonly a little, better than in the marriage by purchase. If a man and\na woman are detected in immorality, then the husband is at liberty\nto kill both; but if he lets the man escape, he is not allowed to\nkill him subsequently in cold blood. If he does, then a blood-feud\nwill be started, and the relations of the murdered man legitimately\nretaliate, or he must pay up the difference in the price between\nthat of a man's life and that of a woman's honour. In practice, one\noften finds that a man has been murdered where, by tribal custom,\nhe should only have had his nose cut off; as it is obviously easier\nfor the aggrieved husband to ambush and shoot him unawares than to\noverpower him sufficiently to cut off his nose.\n\nEvery year in the mission hospital we get a number of cases, many\nmore women than men, where the sufferer has had the nose cut off by\na clean cut with a knife, which sometimes cuts away a portion of the\nupper lip as well. This being a very old mutilation in India, the\npeople centuries ago elaborated an operation for the removal of the\ndeformity, whereby a portion of skin is brought down from the forehead\nand stitched on the raw surface where the nose had been cut off, and\nwe still use this operation, with certain modifications, for the cases\nthat come to us. Two years ago a forbidding-looking Afghan brought\ndown his wife to the Bannu Mission Hospital. In a fit of jealousy he\nhad cut off her nose, but when he reflected in a cooler moment that\nhe had paid a good sum for her, and had only injured his own property\nand his domestic happiness, he was sorry for it, and brought her for\nus to restore to her as far as possible her pristine beauty. She had\na low forehead, unsuitable for the usual operation, so I said to the\nhusband that I did not think the result of the operation would be\nvery satisfactory; but if he would pay the price I would purchase\nhim an artificial nose from England, which, if it did not make her\nas handsome as before, would at any rate conceal the deformity.\n\n\"How much will it cost?\" said the Afghan.\n\n\"About thirty rupees.\"\n\nThere was a silence: he was evidently racked by conflicting sentiments.\n\n\"Well, my man, what are you thinking about? Will you have it or no?\"\n\n\"I was thinking this, sir,\" he replied, \"you say it costs thirty\nrupees, and I could get a new wife for eighty rupees.\"\n\nAnd this was said before the poor woman herself, without anything\nto show that he felt he had said anything out of the common! I am\nglad to say, however, that he ultimately decided to have the original\nwife patched up, paid the money, and I procured him the article from\nEngland, which gave, I believe, entire satisfaction, and the last time\nI heard of them they were living happily together. Perhaps he is able\nto hold out the threat of locking up her nose should she annoy him,\nand knows he can remove it as often as he likes now without having\nto pay up another thirty rupees.\n\nIn a case where I procured a false nose for a man, the shop in\nEngland sent out a pale flesh-coloured nose, while his skin was\ndark olive! Obviously this had to be remedied, so I procured some\nwalnut stain, and gave him something not very different from the\ncolour of the rest of his face. Unfortunately, he started off home\nbefore it was dry, and was caught in a rainstorm. He was annoyed to\nfind himself the centre of merriment on his arrival at his village,\nand came back to me to complain. The nose was all streaky!\n\nThe fine physique and good health of the hill Afghans and nomadic\ntribes is largely due to the fact that their girls do not marry\ntill full grown, not usually till over twenty, and till then they\nlead healthy, vigorous, outdoor lives. They form a great contrast to\nthe puny Hindu weaklings, the offspring of the marriage of couples\nscarcely in their \"teens.\"\n\nThe two greatest social evils from which the Afghan women suffer\nare the purchase of wives and the facility of divorce. I might add a\nthird--namely, plurality of wives; but though admittedly an evil where\nit exists, it is not universally prevalent, like the other two--in\nfact, only men who are well-to-do can afford to have more than one\nwife. The Muhammadans themselves are beginning to stem the evil and\nexplain away the verses in the Quran which permit it, by saying that\nthere is the proviso that a man may only marry a plurality of wives if\nhe can be quite impartial to all of them; and as that is not possible,\nmonogamy must be considered the law for ordinary mortals.\n\nThe following, which was enacted under my eyes, shows the evil that\nresults from divorce and polygamy. There were three brothers, whom\nwe will call Abraham, Sandullah, and Fath, all happily married to one\nwife each. Abraham, the eldest brother, died. The second brother was\nnow entitled to marry the widow; but she did not like him, while she\nhad a decided liking for the youngest brother, Fath. She had, however,\na hatred for Fath's wife, and was determined not to be junior wife\nto her. Fath, carried away by the charms and cajolings of the widow,\nconsented to divorce his own wife on condition of the widow marrying\nhim. She agreed, vowing she would never marry Sandullah, and then Fath\ndivorced his wife. But meanwhile Sandullah insisted on his rights,\nand forced the widow to marry him. She perforce submitted, but I think\nhe got some lively times at home, and the woman took opportunities\nof meeting Fath. Then what does the insatiable and foolish Sandullah\ndo but marry the divorced wife of his younger brother. The widow was\nnow furious: she had refused to marry the man she fancied unless he\ndivorced that woman, and now she is married to the man she did not\nwant, and has got the hated woman as co-wife into the bargain.\n\nThere was a man of desperate character in the village who had\nbeen captivated by the widow's charms. She had so far refused his\nadvances, but now, to have her way, she told him that if he desired\nto gain his end he must first dispose of her present husband. That\nwas no obstacle to the lover, and, with the collusion of the woman,\nhe enticed the man out into his cornfield one day, and there strangled\nhim. The murder eventually was brought home to the unscrupulous lover,\nand he got penal servitude, while the foul enchantress was left free\nto marry the youngest brother, Fath, whom she originally desired.\n\nVery few of the Afghan women can read the Quran; for the rest they\nare absolutely ignorant of all learning, and often when we are trying\nto explain some directions for treatment in the hospital, they excuse\ntheir denseness by saying: \"We are only cattle: how can we understand?\"\n\nThey know very little of their own religion beyond the prayers and\na variety of charms and superstitions.\n\nSome time ago we had a strange case in the women's (Holtby) ward. She\nwas a feeble old Hindu woman who felt she had not long to live, and\nwho had such a horror of her body being burnt to ashes after death,\nas is the custom with Hindus, that to escape from her relatives she\ncame into the hospital, saying, she wished to become a Muhammadan,\nso that she might be buried. We began to explain to her the Gospel\nof Christ, but she appeared too old to take in something so novel,\nand finding we were not the Muhammadans she took us for, she sent\nword to a Muhammadan anjuman to have her taken away. We assured\nher that we would nurse and care for her, and not burn her body;\nbut no! perhaps we might only be some kind of Hindus in disguise! So\nshe went off with her Muhammadan friends, and in due time was buried.\n\nUnlike this old lady, some of the cases that come into our women's\nward are tragic beyond words. Let me give one story as told us\nby the poor sufferer herself, and she is only one of many who are\nsuffering, unknown and uncared for, in Afghanistan at the present\ntime. For, indeed--for the women especially--it is a country full of\nthe habitations of cruelty. Her name was Dur Jamala, or \"Beautiful\nPearl.\" She and her husband were both suffering from cataract, and\nlived near Kabul. They were trying to resign themselves to lives of\nblindness and beggary when someone visited their village who told\nthem of a doctor in Bannu who cured all kinds of eye diseases. So,\ngetting together all they could, which only came to about eighteen\nrupees, they started out on foot on their long and weary journey to\nBannu--one hundred and fifty miles of rough road, with two mountain\npasses to cross on the way! They took with them their only child,\na girl of about ten, and travelled slowly, stage by stage, towards\nBannu. But before they had got far on their way, in a lonely part\nof the road, some cruel brigands robbed them of all their savings,\nbeat her husband to death before her eyes, and tore away the weeping\nchild, whom they would sell for a good price into some harim.\n\nPoor Dur Jamala was left alone and helpless, crushed with grief. From\nthat time it took her just ten months to get to Bannu, having been\nhelped first by one and then by another on the way. She reached Bannu\nvery worn and weary, and in rags, and was very grateful indeed to us\nfor a comfortable bed and a good meal. The operation was successful,\nand resulted in her obtaining good sight in that eye.  But meanwhile\nsomeone had frightened her, telling her that hell would be her\npunishment for listening to our teaching. She wept very much, and\nrefused to allow us to operate on the other eye or listen to any more\nof our \"wicked religion.\" We saw no more of her for about four months,\nwhen she appeared one day in our out-patient department in great pain\nfrom suppuration of the second eye. She had been to some charlatan,\nwho, in operating on it, had completely destroyed the vision of that\neye, and she had suffered so much that she was only too glad to put\nherself again under our treatment. The second eye had to be removed,\nbut she is able to work, as the sight of the first is good, and she\noften comes to us now and listens to the teaching, although she still\nsays: \"Your medicine is very good, but your religion is wicked.\" Yet\nin listening to the Gospel story she finds some solace in the great\nsorrow which has so clouded the life of poor \"Beautiful Pearl.\"\n\nIf some of our medical ladies and nurses in England saw how their\npoor Afghan sisters suffered, often in silence and hopelessness,\nwould not some of them come out to do the work of Christ and bear His\nname among them? \"I was sick, and ye visited me.\" Though till now we\nhave only had a man doctor in Bannu, yet forty or fifty women attend\nthe out-patients' department nearly every day, and many of these have\nundertaken long and wearisome journeys to reach us.\n\nThere are the Hindu women from Bannu city collected together in\none corner of the verandah, lest they should be polluted by contact\nwith the Muhammadan women from the villages. For the women are much\ngreater sticklers for the observance of all the niceties of Hindu\nceremonial than their more Westernized husbands, and would have to\nundergo the trouble of a complete bath on returning home if they had\nbeen in contact with anything ceremonially impure. One can recognize\nthe Hindu women at once by their clothes. They wear the same three\ngarments winter and summer--a skirt reaching down to their ankles;\na curious upper garment, like a waistcoat with no back to it; and\na veil, which falls over and covers their otherwise bare back, and\nwhich they hurriedly pull over their faces when they see a man.\n\nThe Muhammadan women have indeed the veil, but the other garments\nare quite different. The upper garment is a full dress, coming\ndown at least to the knees, and full of pleats and puckers, and\nornamented by rows of silver and brass coins across the breast,\nwhile the nether garment is a pair of loose, baggy pyjamas of some\ndark-coloured material, usually blue or red, with very remarkable\nfunnel-like extremities below the knees. At this point the baggy\nportion is succeeded by a tightly-fitting trouser, the piece about\ntwice the length of the leg, and which is, therefore, crowded up above\nthe ankle into a number of folds, which accumulate the dust and dirt,\nif nothing worse. The Povindah women--strong, robust, and rosy from the\nbracing highlands of Khorasan--are dressed almost entirely in black,\nthe Marwat women in blue veils and red-and-blue pyjamas, the Bannuchi\nwomen in black veils and red pyjamas, and the women of other tribes\neach in their own characteristic dress.\n\nEven the style in which the hair is plaited and worn is sufficient\nnot only to indicate what tribe the woman belongs to, but also whether\nshe is married or unmarried. The Povindah women are very fond of blue\ntattoo marks over their foreheads, while all alike are proud of the\nrow of silver coins which is worn hanging over the forehead. The\nHindu women plaster the hair of the forehead and temples with a\nvermilion paste, not merely for cosmetic reasons, but because it is\nsacred to their god Vishnu. Then, the sturdy, sunburnt faces of the\nWazir women tell tales of the hard, rough outdoor life they perforce\nlead, and contrast with the more delicate and gentler faces of the\nHindus. Notwithstanding the careful way in which all except the hill\nwomen veil their faces from masculine gaze, they are very sensitive\nas to what is being thought of them, and sometimes an impudent man\nmeets a woman who at once closely veils herself, and remarks to his\ncompanion: \"Ah! her nose has been cut off!\" This imputation, not only\non her looks, but on her character, is usually too much for her,\nand she indignantly unveils her face, to cover it up again at once\nin shame when she finds it was only a ruse!\n\nThe hill women rarely, if ever, wash either their bodies or their\nclothes, and suffer much in the hot weather from skin troubles as\na result. The Hindu women, on the other hand, who appear to aim at\ndoing in everything the exact opposite to their Muhammadan sisters,\nbathe on the slightest pretext, summer and winter, and often women\nwho carefully veil their faces when passing down the street bathe in\nthe river and streams in a state of nudity, regardless of passers-by.\n\nMost of the women have a great aversion to telling their own name,\nbecause it is considered a very indelicate thing for a married woman to\nmention her own name. It would be very difficult to make the necessary\nentries in the register were it not that there is usually some other\nwoman with her, and etiquette does not prevent her friend telling\nwhat her name is. Otherwise she will usually mention the name of her\neldest son, who may be a baby in arms, or may be a grown man--never,\nof course, of a daughter: she must only be mentioned in a whisper,\nand with an apology, if at all--saying: \"I am the mother of Paira Lai,\"\nor \"I am the mother of Muhammad Isma\u00efl.\"\n\nNotwithstanding the state of servitude in which the women are kept\nand their crass ignorance and superstition, they have great power in\ntheir home circles, and mould the characters of the rising generations\nmore even than the fathers.\n\nThis fact was brought home very forcibly to me one day in school. A\nsubject had to be fixed on for the next meeting of the school debating\nsociety. Various subjects had been proposed and negatived. I suggested:\n\"Who has most influence in moulding our characters--our fathers or our\nmothers?\" \"How could we have so one-sided a debate?\" responded half a\ndozen boys at once. \"Who could be found to argue for the fathers? Of\ncourse, our mothers have all the influence.\" How important, then,\nfor the future of the nation that something should be done to raise,\nand elevate, and purify the mothers of the nation!\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nTHE STORY OF A CONVERT\n\n    A trans-frontier merchant--Left an orphan--Takes service--First\n    contact with Christians--Interest aroused in an unexpected\n    way--Assaulted--Baptism--A dangerous journey--Taken for a spy--A\n    mother's love--Falls among thieves--Choosing a wife--An Afghan\n    becomes a foreign missionary--A responsible post--Saved by a\n    grateful patient.\n\n\nIn the highlands between Kabul and Jelalabad is a secluded valley, girt\nwith pine-clad hills, and down which a tributary of the Kabul River\nflows, fertilizing the rice crops which rise terrace above terrace on\nthe slopes of the hills, and meandering in sparkling rivulets through\nthe villages which lie nestling among orchards of peaches and apples,\ninterspersed with fine walnut and plane trees. This is the Valley\nof Laghman, and, like the Kabulis, the men are great merchants,\nand travel about between Central Asia and Hindustan. One of these\nmerchants took his young son, Jahan Khan, down with him to India on\none of his journeys, in order that he might serve his apprenticeship\nin the trade of his father and see something of the wealthy cities\nand beautiful buildings of India, the fame of which had so often\nroused the boyish imaginations of the youth of Laghman, and made it\nthe desire of their lives to travel down once to India and see for\nthemselves its glories and its wealth.\n\nFather and son travelled about for two years, buying and selling\nand taking contracts for road-making, at which the Afghans are\ngreat adepts, till one summer the father was stricken down with\ndysentery. The boy took him to a mission hospital, where for the first\ntime he heard the story of the Gospel; but he had been always taught\nto look upon the English as infidels, and he used to stop his ears,\nlest any of the words spoken by the mission doctor might defile his\nfaith. The disease grew worse, and the father paid some men to carry\nhim to the shrine of a noted saint in the neighbourhood, called Sakhi\nSarwar, which was renowned for its power in healing diseases. He made\na votive offering, but still the malady grew worse, and at last one\nmorning Jahan Khan found himself an orphan hundreds of miles away from\nhome and relations, with no friends and no money to help him home. It\nis the great desire of an Afghan who dies away from his country to\nhave his body embalmed and carried back, it may be, hundreds of miles\non a camel, to be interred in his ancestral graveyard; but how could\nthe poor boy, without money or friends, perform this duty? He had to\nbe content with burying his father near the tomb of the famous saint,\nwhose benign influence might be expected to serve him in good stead\non the Day of the Resurrection.\n\nJahan Khan then took service with some Muhammadans of the country,\nand it was in this way that I first met him. Soon after my arrival in\nIndia I wanted a body-servant who knew no language but Pashtu, in order\nthat I might the more easily gain proficiency in that language. The\nMuhammadan gentleman to whom I applied recommended me Jahan Khan;\nbut Jahan Khan himself resented the idea of becoming servant to a\nFeringi and an infidel, which he thought would jeopardize his faith\nand his salvation. His Muhammadan patron laughed at his scruples,\nand quoted the Pashtu proverb, \"The Feringis in their religion, and\nwe in ours,\" saying: \"So long as you say your prayers regularly,\nand read the Quran, and keep the fast, and do not eat their food,\nlest by any chance there should be swine's flesh in it, you have no\nreason to fear.\"\n\nFor some time Jahan Khan served me well, but was evidently chary of\ntoo dangerous an intimacy. I had at that time an educated Afghan\nwho was teaching me Pashtu, and he sometimes twitted Jahan Khan\nwith his inability to read. This made the boy desirous of learning,\nand he persuaded the munshi to give him a lesson every day. When the\nalphabet had been mastered, the munshi was looking about for some\nsimple book for reading-lessons, and he happened to take up a Pashtu\nGospel which had been given him and laid aside, and from this Jahan\nKhan got his first reading-lessons. Before long the teaching of the\nbook he was reading riveted his attention. It was so different from the\nold Muhammadan ideas with which he had been brought up. Instead of the\nlaw of \"Eye for eye and tooth for tooth,\" was the almost incredible\ncommand to forgive your enemies. His reading-lesson became the event\nof the day for him, not merely on account of the advance in learning,\nbut because of the new ideas which were stirring in his mind. When the\nmunshi observed that a change had come over him, he became alarmed,\nand told Jahan Khan that he must have no more reading-lessons at all,\nand that he had better give up all idea of learning to read. The\nseed was, however, already sown, and despite the adjurations of the\nmunshi, Jahan Khan astonished me one day by coming to ask that I\nshould continue the reading-lessons with him.\n\nIt was a delight to notice week by week the growth of the Spirit in\nthe boy's heart, but with all that there were many storms to brave\nand many seasons of darkness and unbelief, which threatened to crush\nthe young seedling before it was yet able to weather the storm. The\nAfghan nature is hot-tempered and reckless, and he found it difficult\nto curb his spirit under the taunts of those around him. One afternoon,\nas I was sitting in my room, I heard shouts from outside--\"O Daktar\nSahib! O Daktar Sahib!\"--and on running out found that two Muhammadans\nhad seized him and were beating him, while they were trying to stifle\nhis cries by twisting his turban round his neck. This was only the\nfirst of many times that the young convert was to bear the reproach\nof the Cross, and he had not yet learnt to take the vindictiveness\nof his Muhammadan compatriots with the forbearance which was a later\ngrowth of the Spirit. This assault, however, resulted in a parting\nof the ways, and from that time Jahan Khan publicly avowed himself a\nChristian. He had many a battle yet to fight--not so much with outward\nenemies as with his own Pathan nature--but the Spirit was to conquer.\n\nSome time after his baptism Jahan Khan conceived a burning desire to\nrevisit his childhood's home. His widowed mother was still living\nthere with his brothers and cousins, and he wanted to tell them of\nhis new-found faith. We pointed out to him the great dangers that\nattended his enterprise. In that country, to become a pervert from\nMuhammadanism was a capital offence, and even the nearest relation\ncould not be depended on to incur the odium and danger of protecting\na relative who had brought disgrace on Islam. Jahan Khan could not,\nhowever, be dissuaded, and at last the preparations were made. Some\ncopies of the Gospels in the Persian and Pashtu languages were\nsewn inside his trousers, a baggy Afghan garment, lending itself\nappropriately to this kind of secretion.\n\nOn reaching Jelalabad, some of the Afghan police arrested him on\nsuspicion of being a spy of the ex-Amir, Y'akub Khan, and he was in\nimminent danger of discovery. A few rupees in the hands of the not too\nconscientious officials saved the situation, and after sundry other\nvicissitudes he reached his home. His mother and brothers received\nhim with every token of delight, and for some days there were great\nrejoicings. Then came the time when he had to make known his change\nof faith. At first, when the villagers missed him from the public\nprayers in the mosque, they thought it was merely the weariness of\nthe journey; but as the days passed by, and he still did not appear,\nit became necessary to give explanations. No sooner was it known that\nhe was a Christian than the villagers clamoured for his life. An uncle\nof his, however, who was himself a Mullah, managed to appease them on\ncondition that he should leave the country at once; and that night\nthere were great weepings in his house, for his mother felt that\nshe was not only going to lose her newly returned son, but that he\nhad sold his soul to the devil and disgraced her whole family. Still,\nhowever, mother's love conquered, and she prepared him his food for the\njourney, and parted with many embraces. \"O that you should have become\na Feringi! Woe is me, but still you are my son!\" He left the books with\nsome Mullahs there, who, though they would have been afraid to accept\nthem openly, or let it be known that they were in the possession of\nsuch heretical literature, were nevertheless actuated by curiosity to\nhide the books away, that they might see, at some quiet opportunity,\nwhat the teaching of the book of the Christians was.\n\nJahan Khan's dangers were not yet, however, over. Travellers from\nKabul to India could not venture through the passes in small parties,\nbut joined one of those enormous caravans which pass twice weekly\nthrough the Khaiber Pass. In these caravans, besides the honest\ntrader and bona-fide traveller, there are usually some unscrupulous\nrobbers, who try by trickery or by force to get the property of\ntheir fellow-travellers. A common method with them is some evening,\nafter the day's journey is over, to propose a convivial party. \"We\nhave just slain a kid,\" they will say to the unsuspecting traveller,\n\"and we have cooked the most delicious soup. Will you come and share\nit?\" But in the soup they have mixed a quantity of a poisonous herb,\nwhich causes insensibility, or it may be madness, in those who\npartake of it. Whether they knew of Jahan Khan's secret, or whether\nthey thought that he might be carrying money with him, I cannot say;\nbut he, all unsuspectingly, joined in one of these evening feasts,\nand remembered nothing more until, some days later, the caravan entered\nPeshawur. With a great effort he struggled up to the mission bungalow,\nbut it was some days before he was able to undertake the journey to\nBannu, and still longer before he regained his previous health.\n\nHis visit to his home had not been without fruit, and about a year\nlater a brother and two cousins journeyed down from Laghman to Bannu,\nand while there one at least was brought to ask for Christian baptism,\nand is to this day working in one of our frontier medical missions. The\nothers placed themselves under instruction, but they could not stand\nthe heat of the Indian summer, and became so homesick for their\nmountain village that they returned there.\n\nAmong the thousand and one duties that fall to the lot of a frontier\nmissionary is that of becoming a matchmaker to some of the converts. It\nmay be that in one station a number of young men are brought into the\nChristian fold where there is no corresponding women's work, whereby\nthey might be enabled to set up house for themselves, while it would\nbe courting many dangers to expect them to live for an indefinite\nperiod in a state of single blessedness. Thus it came about that I\nundertook a journey with Jahan Khan down to India, and in one of the\nzenana missions there we found a girl who was to become his helpmeet\nthrough life. She came of one of those Afghan families which had long\nbeen domiciled in British India, and had been brought to the Christian\nfaith through the devoted efforts of some lady missionary. She had also\nreceived the training of a compounder and midwife from the lady doctor\nwhere she had been converted, and so was able to be, not only a light\nto his home, but also an efficient helper in the work of the mission.\n\nSome time after the happy pair had made their home in Bannu, and\nafter on three successive occasions the arrival of a young Afghan\nhad brought still more happiness into their married life, a letter\ncame from a devoted missionary working in a difficult outpost in the\nPersian Gulf. The letter set forth how the missionary had been left\nalmost without a helper in one of the most difficult and fanatical\nfields of missionary effort among Muhammadans, and ended by an appeal\nfor some native worker to come out and help. It was difficult to\nresist such an appeal, and though loth to lose the services of Jahan\nKhan even for a time, one felt that one had no worker more eminently\nsuited for stepping into the breach. The Afghan makes an excellent\npioneer. His pride of race and self-reliance enable him to work in\nan isolated and difficult field, where a convert from the plains of\nIndia would quickly lose heart. So it came about, in a few weeks' time,\nthat we had a farewell meeting in Bannu for bidding God-speed to Jahan\nKhan and family in their new sphere of missionary labour; and we felt\nwhat a privilege it was, for not only had we seen the first-fruits of\nthe harvest of Afghanistan, but had also seen an Afghan convert going\nout as a missionary to what was as much a foreign country for him as\nIndia is for us. For some time he shared with the devoted American\nmissionaries the vicissitudes of work among the fanatical Arabs of\nBahrain, and here his eldest daughter was taken from him and laid\nto rest in the little Christian cemetery. When some time later he\ncould be spared to return to Bannu, we put him to work in the mission\nhospital, where he was not only able to influence the numerous Afghans\nwho every week came from over the border as patients, but was able\nalso to acquire great proficiency in medical and surgical practice.\n\nSome years after this we had occasion to open fresh work in a\nvillage--Kharrak--in the midst of the Pathan population of the Kohat\ndistrict, and when we were in need of a thoroughly reliable man to\nplace in this isolated outpost, we found no one better suited than\nJahan Khan. Kharrak is a chief salt mart in the Kohat districts, and\nin the centre of a fertile valley, which, from the amount of grain\nit produces, has been called the \"Granary of the Khattaks.\" Hard\nby are salt-quarries, which employ a good number of labourers, and\nattract merchants with their caravans from distant parts. I first\nvisited this town in 1895, in company with Jahan Khan, and found a\nrough and fanatical population, who refused to listen to our message,\nand even rejected our medical aid. As years passed by many of them had\noccasion to become patients in the Bannu Mission Hospital, and they\ncarried back good accounts to their fellow-townsmen of the benefits\nthey had received and the sympathy that had been displayed towards\nthem, with the result that before long our visits were welcomed, we\nwere able to preach in their bazaars, and eventually they asked us to\nopen permanent work there, gave us a suitable site close to the town,\nand raised subscriptions to help in the building.\n\nWhen first Jahan Khan and his devoted wife started work at Kharrak,\nthey had a great deal of prejudice and antagonism to overcome, owing\nto their being converts from Muhammadanism; but, by patience and\nconsistency of life, by uniform kindness to all the sick and needy\nwho came for their aid, they gradually lived it down. I have now no\ngreater pleasure in my work than to visit Kharrak, and to see these two\nfaithful workers in their hospital, surrounded by the sick and needy,\ntelling them of the precious sacrifice of Christ--the very Muhammadans\nwho were once, in their fanaticism, thirsting for his blood, now\nquietly sitting round and listening attentively while he recounts, day\nby day, the story of the Cross. I will give an instance to show how\na consistent Christian life can influence even such wild, ferocious\nPathans as those of Kharrak. Some fanatical Muhammadans, irritated\nat the preaching of the Gospel in their town, hired a professional\nassassin to come to shoot Jahan Khan; but the man happened to be one\nwho had been indebted to the young doctor for recovery from a severe\nillness, in which he had, by his unremitting attention, been the means\nof saving his life. When he found who it was he was required to kill,\nhe returned the money and informed Jahan Khan, that he might be on\nhis guard. Jahan Khan called for the men who had hired the assassin,\nexpostulated with them for their ingratitude for the benefits they had\nreceived in the hospital, and, when they expressed their contrition,\nfreely forgave them, and now they are his staunch partisans.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nTHE HINDU ASCETICS\n\n    The Hindu Sadhus more than two thousand years ago much\n    as to-day--Muhammadan faqirs much more recent--The Indian\n    ideal--This presents a difficulty to the missionary--Becoming\n    a Sadhu--An Afghan disciple--Initiation and equipment--Hardwar\n    the Holy--A religious settlement--Natural beauties of the\n    locality--Only man is vile--Individualism versus altruism--The\n    Water God--Wanton monkeys--Tendency to make anything unusual\n    an object of worship--A Brahman fellow-traveller--A night in a\n    temple--Waking the gods--A Hindu sacrament--A religious Bedlam--A\n    ward for imbeciles--Religious delusions--\"All humbugs\"--Yogis\n    and hypnotism--Voluntary maniacs--The daily meal--Feeding, flesh,\n    fish, and fowl.\n\n\nAll the travellers and tourists who have recorded their experiences\nof India mention the strange, fantastic, ochre-habited ascetics\nwho are met with in town and village, by the roadside and at\nfairs--nay, even in the modern railway-station, where they seem\nstrangely out of place. But few have cared to cultivate their more\nintimate acquaintance; they have little in them that is attractive\nto the Western eye, and often appear absolutely repulsive. Yet,\nto a missionary at least, there is a fascination about them. They\nembody the religious ideals of the East, and carry one back to the\nhoary past, long before Alexander marched into India, when the same\nenigmas of life were puzzling the mystical mind of the East, and the\nsame Sadhus were seeking their solution in her trackless jungles and\nbeside her mighty rivers. Sadhus, I say, because then there were no\nfaqirs. Faqirs are of comparatively recent origin, dating from the\ntime of the Muhammadan invasions, about the tenth century of our\nera. Now the distinction is often lost sight of. The word \"faqir\"\nis an Arabic one, and denotes a Muhammadan ascetic; while the word\n\"Sadhu\" is Sanskrit, and is best retained for the Hindu ascetic.\n\nThe Muhammadan faqir is altogether different from the Hindu Sadhu in\nhis motives, his ideals, his habits, his dress--in fact, in nearly\neverything; yet contact with the Hindu Sadhus has had a profound effect\nupon him, and their philosophies have coloured his religious ideas. The\nHindus have, on their part too, not been unaffected by the influx of\nMuhammadans, bringing their new monotheistic ideas, and some of the\nHindu orders appear to be attempts to graft the Muslim monotheism on\nto the mystical Hindu pantheism. This is seen most developed in the\nKabir Panthis and the various orders originating from Guru Nanak. A\ndesire to propitiate and attract their Muhammadan conquerors was\nprobably not wanting in the moulding of these new orders; indeed,\nKabir and Guru Nanak seem to have had visions of elaborating a creed\nin which Muhammadan and Hindu could unite together.\n\nThe Indian religious ideal has always been ascetic and despondent:\nascetic, perhaps, because life seemed sad and hopeless. On the other\nhand, the Western ideal is an altruistic and optimistic one.\n\nThe young missionary, who very likely appeared to his sympathetic\nfriends in England to be making great sacrifices in order to go\n\"to preach the Gospel to the heathen,\" sometimes ignorantly imagines\nthat the people round him in India will recognize what he has denied\nhimself in order to come among them, and will respect him in due\nproportion. Poor deluded man! The modern Christian in England has not\neven learnt the alphabet of austerities and self-denials practised\nin the name of religion, of which the Indians are past masters. He\nappears to them as one of the ruling race, surrounded by the comforts\nand luxuries of a house, many servants, books, flowers, photographs,\npictures, and the various little creations of civilization, which\ncustom has made the Western no longer to look on as superfluous\narticles of luxury! Their ideal has been nearer that of the Swami,\nwho had so overcome the bonds of the flesh that he required neither\nclothes nor viands, but sat nude and impassive, maintaining his\nvitality on an occasional banana or mango!\n\nShould the missionary try to accommodate himself to the Eastern\nideal, and forego many things that are lawful to him in order to\ngain more influence with the people for his message? Every Indian\nmissionary has probably asked himself this question at some period\nof his career. At one time such questionings forced themselves on\nme with great importunity. There seemed such a gulf between myself,\nin my comfortable house, surrounded by so many conveniences, and the\npoor people, around me. The multitudinous administrative duties of\nthe missionary in charge of a station seemed to leave so little time\nfor spiritual dealings with inquirers, and at the end of a long day\nweariness made it difficult to maintain that very essential equipment\nof every missionary--\"a heart at leisure from itself to soothe and\nsympathize.\"\n\nThen I had a desire to learn more about these men, who might be\nsupposed to represent the embodiment of the religious ideals of the\nEast. The best way seemed to be to adopt their dress and habits, and\ntravel about among them for a time. A young Afghan, who was a pupil\nof mine and a Muhammadan student in the school, begged to be allowed\nto accompany me as a chela, or disciple. As the time at my disposal\nwas limited, it would not have been possible to visit many of the\nplaces where Sadhus most do congregate had we confined ourselves to\nthe more orthodox method of progression on foot, so we decided to\nride our bicycles. This did not seem to affect the reception we met\nwith from the fraternity--in fact, it is not at all uncommon to see\nSadhus riding; often pious Hindus seek to gain merit for themselves\nby providing them with the means for doing so.\n\nWhen we left Bannu, we took no money with us; but we seldom were in\nwant, as we received ungrudging hospitality from Hindus, Muhammadans,\nand Christians alike. The ochre-coloured garments are sufficient\npassport all over India, and people give alms and offer hospitality\nwithout requiring further evidence of the genuineness of the claims\nof the applicant on their charity. In fact, unless the Sadhu is of\nknown bad character, the Hindu would gain his end--that of acquiring\nmerit by almsgiving--as much by giving to one as another; and he\nwould be very unhappy were he not afforded these opportunities of\nkeeping up the credit side of his account, all the more if his gains\nare ill-gotten, or he is conscious of some underhand dealings which\nrequire corresponding acts of merit to balance them.\n\nOne of the most interesting places we visited was Hardwar, the holy\nbathing-place on the Ganges, which is visited by tens of thousands\nof Hindu pilgrims from every part of India every year, and the\nneighbouring Sadhu colony of Rishikes. The latter is a village\ninhabited only by the Sanzasis and other Sadhus, who have built\nthemselves grass huts in a very picturesque spot, where the Ganges\nRiver emerges from the Himalaya Mountains, and commences its long\ncourse through the densely-populated plains of India. It is at Hardwar\nthat the great Ganges Canal, one of the great engineering feats of the\nBritish rule, has been taken from the river to vivify thousands of\nacres of good land in the United Provinces to the south, and supply\ntheir teeming populations with bread. A little above the town of\nRurki a massive aqueduct carries the whole volume of the canal high\nabove a river flowing beneath, and yet higher up two river-beds are\nconducted over the canal, which passes beneath them. The uniqueness\nof this piece of engineering is dependent on two other factors--the\ncrystalline limpidity of the blue water and the glorious scenery\nwhich forms a setting to all.\n\nI no longer needed to inquire why the common consent of countless\ngenerations of Hindus had made this neighbourhood their Holy Land;\nthe appropriateness of it flashed on my mind the moment the glorious\nvista opened before me. There beyond me were the majestic Himalayas,\nthe higher ranges clothed in the purest dazzling white, emblem of the\nGreat Eternal Purity, looking down impassive on all the vicissitudes\nof puny man, enacting his drama of life with a selfish meanness so\nsordid in contrast with that spotless purity; and yet not unmoved,\nfor is there not a stream of life-giving water ever issuing from those\nsilent solitudes, without which the very springs of man's existence\nwould dry up and wither? And then, in the nearer distance, the lower\nranges clothed in the richest verdure of the primeval forest, vast\ntracts not yet subdued by the plough of man, where the religious\ndevotee can strive to rise from Nature to Nature's God, amid those\nsolitudes and recesses where no handiwork of man distracts the soul\nfrom the contemplation of the illimitable and mysterious First Cause.\n\nWhile looking down from the elevation of the canal, there was\nspread out at our feet a bucolic scene of peace and plenty, where\nvillages and hamlets, surrounded by green fields and cultivation, lay\nscattered among sylvan glades, drinking in vivifying streams which\nhad journeyed down by chasm and defile, through valley and meadow,\nfrom those distant solitudes.\n\nHow natural it seemed that in those early Vedic ages, when the\nreverence for the forces of Nature was still unsullied by the\nman-worship engendered by the development of his inventive genius,\nthis vast cathedral of God's own architecture should have been made\nthe chosen place of worship of the race, where the more devout spirits\nstrove not only to worship and adore, but to shake off the trammels of\na mere mundane corporal existence, till the spirit was as free as the\nbirds in the air around, as clear from earthly dross as the limpid\nwaters below, and as integral a part of the great eternal whole as\nNature around, so diverse in its manifestations, yet knitted together\nin one congruous whole by a pervading and uniform natural law. But\nfacilis descensus Averni! How often the most glorious inspirations\nare dragged down and down till they subserve the basest instincts\nof man! So here a little farther on--at Hardwar--we were to have the\nspiritual elation engendered by the natural scene cruelly shattered by\na sight of the vileness and sordidness of the most repulsive aspects\nof humanity, and by realizing how the most Divine conceptions can be\ndragged down and abased to pander to all that is brutal and evil in\nman. Not, of course, that all the Sadhus at Hardwar and Rishikes have\ndebased their holy profession. Many among them, as I shall shortly\ndescribe, are as earnest seekers after Divine illumination as could\nbe met with in any country; but, by one of those strange paradoxes so\ncommon in the East, they live side by side with the basest charlatans\nand the most immoral caricatures of their own ideals without evincing\nany consciousness of the impropriety of it, or resentment at their\nprofession being thus debased before the public eye.\n\nThe individualistic idea eclipses that of the public weal, and each is\nso intent on perfecting his own salvation, and drawing himself nearer,\nstep by step, to his goal of absorption in the Eternal Spirit, that\nhe has come to forget that man has a duty to those around him from\nwhich he cannot absolve himself. St. Paul tells us, \"No man liveth to\nhimself, and no man dieth to himself.\" The Sadhu says each unit is\nonly concerned in building up its own karma, or balance of good and\nevil actions, whereby it must work out its own destiny regardless of\nthe weal and woe of those around. The Hindu idea connects the soul\nwith those other souls before and behind it in a long concatenation\nof births; the Christian idea connects the soul with the other souls\naround it, contemporaneous with its own corporeal existence, and linked\nwith it by the good and evil vibrations of its own vitality. Thus the\nvista of the Sadhu is always introspective, even to a vesting of the\nnatural vital functions of the body with spiritual significations,\nwhich require the most laborious practisings and purifications to\nmake them all subserve his great ideal of absolute subjection of\nthe body to the spirit. The vista of the Christian missionary and\nphilanthropist is extraspective, seeking to make his own life a means\nfor elevating spiritually and materially the lives of those around him,\nand disciplining his own body and soul rather, that he may thereby\nmore effectually further this end. \"For their sakes I sanctify myself,\nthat they also may be sanctified.\"\n\nA constant stream of pilgrims is ever passing through the bazaar of\nHardwar to and from that particular part of the river, the water of\nwhich is supposed to possess a superlative sanctity. Here they bring\nthe calcined bones and ashes of their dead relations, and there is ever\na stream of pious Hindus bringing these doleful relics for consignment\nto the sacred stream. As I looked down into the crystal waters I could\nsee the fragments of white bones lying about on the pebbles beneath,\nwith the fish playing in and out among them. Strange commingling of\nlife and death! And this has been going on at this spot for three\nthousand years, for woe to the Hindu who has no son to perform his\nfuneral rites, no relative to bring his ashes to the cleansing waters\nof the mighty Ganges! His soul will wander about restlessly, and the\nsequence of its reincarnations leading to its ultimate absorption in\nthe Eternal Spirit, will be hampered and retarded! There they fill the\nglass bottles of all sizes, which they have brought for the purpose,\nand then place them in wicker baskets on the two ends of a bamboo pole,\nwhich is balanced over the shoulder, and with which they will often\ntravel hundreds of miles on foot till they reach their destination. If\nthe Hindu for whom the water is being obtained is well-to-do, he\nwill have the water fetched with great pomp and ceremony, ringing\nof bells, playing of instruments, and chanting of mantras, while the\nbaskets containing the water are gorgeously decorated, and a servant\nis deputed to fan the aqueous god as he is borne along. Probably the\nHindu would grudge a tenth part of the cost to purify or amplify the\nwater-supply of his own village!\n\nNaturally the town drives a thriving trade in the bamboo rods, baskets,\nbottles, and all appurtenances of the mighty pilgrimage. The bazaar\nis crowded with monkeys, the feeding of which affords boundless\nopportunities to pious Hindus for accumulating merit. These favours\nthe monkeys repay by surreptitiously snatching sweetmeats and fruits\nfrom the open shop-fronts and darting off with the booty to the roofs\nof the shops opposite, where they devour them in quiet with sly winks\nand leers at the luckless shopkeeper. Though inwardly wrathful, he\ncannot retaliate on the sacred animals, lest he be dubbed a heretic\nand his trade depart. Here, too, we see everywhere exemplified the\nirrepressible faculty of the Hindu for worshipping anything which\ncan possibly be made into an object of veneration.\n\nProbably all the world through, no race is to be found so bent on\nturning all the events and circumstances of life into religious\nacts of worship. If anything or anyone is pre-eminently good or\npre-eminently bad, or has any particular quality, good or evil,\ndeveloped to excess, or is a monstrosity in any way, then he or it is\nsure to become an object of worship. A Hindu addicted to wine-bibbing\nwill sometimes turn his drinking orgy into an act of religious worship,\nin which the wine-bottle is set up on a pedestal and duly garlanded,\napostrophized, and adored. A Sadhu may be a notoriously bad man, but\nif his vices have given him a preeminence over his fellow-men, he will\nfind multitudes of Hindus, men and women, who will regard them only\nas so many proofs of his divinity, and worship him accordingly. It is\nnot that the Hindu does not recognize or reprobate vice--he does both;\nbut, then, he holds the idea that spirit is eternally pure and good,\nand matter eternally gross and evil, and that if a Sadhu attains the\nstage where spirit has triumphed over body, his actions become divorced\nfrom ethics, and are no longer to be judged as though his spirit was\ncapable of contamination from the acts of its earthly tabernacle.\n\nHence it is that the stories of the Hindu divinities, which seem to\nus distinctly immoral, do not strike the pantheistic Hindu mind as\nsuch, for ethics have ceased to be a concern to one whose austerities\nhave won for him union with the Divine Essence. Here in Hardwar was a\nweird collection of bovine monstrosities--cows with three horns, one\neye, or a hideous tumour; calves with two heads or two bodies. These\nwere paraded forth by their fortunate possessors, who reaped a good\nharvest of coins from the devout visitors, who worshipped them as\nillustrations of the vagaries of divinity, and hoped, by offering\nthem alms, to propitiate their destinies.\n\nRishikes, the city of the Sadhus, is eighteen miles higher up the\nriver from Hardwar, and the road lies through a dense forest. The\nroad is only a rough track, but pious Hindus have erected temples\nand rest-houses at short intervals, where travellers can spend the\nnight and get refreshment. After proceeding some distance through the\nforest I met a Brahman journeying the same way with a heavily-laden\npony. The pony was obstreperous, and the luggage kept falling off,\nso the Brahman gladly accepted the offer of my assistance, and after\nrepacking the luggage in a securer manner we got along very well. The\nBrahman beguiled the time by telling me histories of the past glories\nof the Rishis of the Himalayas, and how the spread of infidelity and\ncow-killing was undermining the fabric of Hinduism. False Sadhus and\nSanyasis from the lower non-Brahman castes were crowding into their\nranks for the sake of an easier living, till it was almost impossible\nto distinguish the true from the false, and a bad name was brought\nupon all.\n\nAny Hindu of the three upper castes may become a Sadhu, and should,\naccording to Manu's code, become a Sanyasi in his later years. But\nhe does not thereby attain to the sanctity of a Brahman, and the\nBrahmans have many stories to relate to show how many have undergone\nextreme austerities and bodily afflictions in order to obtain spiritual\npower, and have thereby gained great gifts from the gods, but without\nattaining the coveted sanctity of the born Brahman.\n\nThe sun had already set, and the forest path was becoming difficult\nto follow in the gathering gloom when we reached a clearing with a\ntemple and a few cottages built round it, so we decided to spend the\nnight there. Through the kind offices of the Brahman, I was given a\nsmall room adjoining the temple, on the stone floor of which I spread\nmy blanket, and prepared to make myself comfortable for the night. I\nhad consumed my supper of bread and pulse, and given the remnants to\nthe temple cow, and settled myself to sleep, when I was roused by a\nfearful din. The temple in which I had found refuge was dedicated to\nVishnu and Lakshmi, and their full-size images, dressed up in gaudy\ntinsel, were within. The time for their evening meal had arrived,\nbut the gods were asleep, and the violent tomtoming and clashing of\ncymbals which awoke me so suddenly was really intended to make the\ndrowsy gods bestir themselves to partake of the supper which their\nworshippers had reverently brought them.\n\nWhen the gods were thoroughly roused, and the dainty food had\nbeen set before them, the priest proceeded to fan them with some\npeacocks' feathers while the meal might be imagined to be in course\nof consumption, and meanwhile the worshippers bowed themselves on the\nfloor before them, prostrating themselves with arms and legs extended\non the stones and foreheads in the dust, the more zealous continuing\ntheir prostrations as long as the meal lasted. In these prostrations\neight parts of the body have to touch the ground--the forehead, breast,\nhands, knees, and insteps--and I have seen pilgrims travelling towards\na holy place some hundreds of miles distant by continuous prostrations\nof this kind, the feet being brought up to where the hands were, and\nthe prostration repeated, and thus the whole distance measured out by\ninterminable prostrations. This formidable austerity may take years,\nbut will gain the performer great sanctity and power with the gods\nwhose shrine he thus visits.\n\nThe meal over, the worshippers knelt reverently in line, and received\na few drops each of the water left over, and a few grains of corn that\nhad been sanctified by being part of the meal of the gods, taking them\nfrom the priest in their open palm, and drinking the water and eating\nthe corn with raptures of pleasure and renewed prostrations. One could\nnot but be forcibly reminded of a somewhat ceremonious celebration\nof the Christian Eucharist. This over, the worshippers departed, the\ngods were gently fanned to sleep, the priest and the most substantial\npart of the dinner were left alone, and I became oblivious.\n\nThe next morning the Brahman and I were up betimes, and girded\nourselves for the accomplishment of the nine miles of forest which\nstill lay between us and our destination, before reaching which we\nhad to ford several small rivers. However, the rays of the sun had\nscarcely become pleasantly warm when we found ourselves elbowing our\nway through the Sadhus and pilgrims who were crowding the small but\nstriking bazaar of Rishikes. This place has so little in common with\nthe world in general, is so diverse from all one's preconceived notions\nand ideas, its mental atmosphere departs so far from the ordinary\nhuman standard, that it is hard to know whether to describe it in\nthe ordinary terms of human experience, or whether to look on it as\na weird dream of the bygone ages of another world. As for myself,\nI had not been wandering among its ochre-habited devotees for a\nquarter of an hour before my mind involuntarily reverted to a time,\nmany years past, when I was a student of mental disease in Bethlem\nHospital, and to a dream I had had at that time, when I imagined I\nfound myself an inmate, no longer as a psychological student, but with\nthe indescribably uncanny feeling, \"I am one of them myself. Now these\nmadmen around me are only counterparts of myself.\" So now, as some\nof these forms of voluntary self-torture and eccentricity, nudity,\nor ash-besmeared bodies, aroused feelings of abhorrence, I had to\ncheck myself with the thought: \"But you yourself are one of them too:\nthese weird Sadhus are your accepted brothers in uniform.\" And so the\nillusion continued so long as I moved among them, and when finally\nI left Rishikes behind me, it was like waking from some nightmare.\n\nAccompany me round the imaginary wards, and we will first visit that\nfor imbeciles. We find most of them sitting out in the jungle under\ntrees or mats, avoiding the proximity of their fellow-creatures,\nrecoiling from any intrusion on their privacy, preserving a vacuous\nexpression and an unbroken silence, resenting any effort to draw\nthem into conversation or to break into the impassivity of their\nabstraction. They do not look up as you approach; they offer you no\nsign of recognition; whether you seat yourself or remain standing,\nthey show no consciousness of your presence. Flies may alight on their\nfaces, but still their eyes remain fixed on the tip of their noses,\nand their hands remain clasping their crossed legs. They have sought\nto obtain fusion with the Eternal Spirit by cultivating an ecstatic\nvacuity of mind, and have fallen into the error of imagining that the\nmaterial part of their nature can be etherealized by merely ignoring\nit, until the process of atrophy from disuse often proceeds so far that\nthere is no mind left to be etherealized at all, and there is little\nleft to distinguish them from one of those demented unfortunates who\nhave been deprived by disease of that highest ornament of humanity.\n\nLeaving these, let us proceed to the ward set apart for delusional\ninsanity. The first Sadhu tells you that he is possessed by a spirit\nwhich forbids him to eat except every third day. Another avers that\nhe is in reality a cow in human form, and therefore must eat nothing\nbut grass and roots. A third I found sitting in nudity and arrogance\non his grass mat, and repeating sententiously time after time: \"I\nam God, I am God!\" I remember a patient at Bethlem whose delusion\nwas that he was himself the superintendent of the asylum, the one\nsane man among all the mad, and he went round the ward pointing out\nto me each patient with the remark: \"He is mad--quite mad. He, too,\nhe also is mad,\" and so on. But I was much surprised to meet the\nsame gentleman here. He was in the form of a Bengali Babu, a B.A. of\nthe Calcutta University, and had held high posts under Government;\nbut now, in later life, in dissatisfaction with the world at large,\nhad thrown it all up and sought in the garb of a Sanyasi recluse at\nRishikes for that peace which an office and Babudom can never afford.\n\nRecognizing me as a novice, he took me by the arm, saying in\nEnglish (which in itself seemed strange and out of place amid these\nsurroundings): \"Come along; I explain to you jolly well all the\nshow.\" We strolled in and out among the various groups of Sadhus,\nand at each new form of Sadhuism he would deliver himself after\nthis manner: \"See this man--he is a humbug, pure humbug. See that\nman lying on all the sharp stones--he is a humbug. Look at these\nhere--humbugs! There, that man, reciting the mantras--he pure\nhumbug. All these humbugs!\" and so on.\n\nHere is the section for the study and practice of hypnotism. These\nyogis maintain that by a knowledge of the spiritual states engendered\nby various samadhs or contorted positions of the body and legs,\nand by elaborate breathing exercises, they are able to subdue the\nunruly and material currents of the bodily senses and the brain,\nand tap that inner source of spiritual knowledge and divinity which\nmakes them ipso facto masters of all knowledge, able to commune at\nwill with the Deity Himself.\n\nThe contortions into which they are able to thrust their limbs, and the\nlength of time that they are able to sit impassive and imperturbable in\nwhat appear to be the most painfully constrained postures, show that\nyears of practice, commenced when the joints and sinews are supple,\nmust be required for the attainment of this ecstatic state. There\ncan be no doubt, I think, that masters do exercise the power of\nhypnotism on their chelas, and are thereby able to perform painful\noperations on them (such as piercing various parts of their anatomy\nwith iron skewers) without their wincing or showing visible signs\nof pain. Other practices which these yogis have been carrying on\nfor centuries in their haunts in the Himalayas remind one forcibly\nof the modus operandi of the Western hypnotist, and no doubt both\nattain success through a knowledge, empirical though it may be,\nof the same psycho-physiological laws.\n\nLeaving these, let us examine some of the cases of mania--a few\nof them acute, others more or less chronic, or passing on into a\ndrivelling dementia. Here is a man quite naked, except for the white\nashes rubbed over his dusky body, who, with long dishevelled locks and\nwild expression, hurries up and down the bazaar barking like a dog,\nand making it his boast never to use intelligible language. Another,\nafter painting his naked body partly white and partly black, has tied\nall the little bits of rag he has picked up in the road to various\nparts of his person. A third has adorned his filthy, mud-covered\nbody with wild-flowers, whose varying beauty, now withering in the\nnoonday sun, seems a picture of how his mind and conscience, once\nthe glory of his manhood, have now faded into a shadow. Another is\nlying by choice in the mud by the roadside, to be fouled by the dust\nof the passers-by, and almost trampled on by the cows, hoping by this\nabject affectation of humility to be thought the greater saint. For,\nby a curious paradox, it is often those who make the greatest display\nof humility and subjection of the passions who show the greatest\nsensitiveness to public opinion of their sanctity, and quite fail\nin concealing their jealousy when some other Sadhu outdoes them,\nand gains the greater meed of public admiration.\n\nThere is another man to be seen wandering aimlessly about and picking\nup bits of filth and ordure, and putting them in his mouth and chewing\nthem. But to give a further account of these caricatures of humanity\nwould be loathsome to the reader, as their contemplation became to\nme--the more so as the thought kept recurring to my mind, \"And you\nare one of them, too, now\"; and who knows to what point the imitative\nfaculty of man, that contagion of the mind, may not raise or lower him?\n\nBy this time, however, the long fast and the fresh, keen air from the\nGanges made me begin to wonder how I was going to satisfy a call from\nwithin. It was now close on midday, and I saw the Sadhus collecting\nround certain houses with bowls, gourds, and other receptacles. These\nwere the kitchens established by pious Hindus of various parts of\nIndia with the object of acquiring sufficient merit to counterpoise\ntheir demerits--the bribery, chicanery, and lying of their offices,\nor the more covert sins of their private life. A rich Hindu may\nestablish a kitchen in his own name alone, but more often a number\nunite together to form a guild to keep the kitchen going, and the\nmerit is portioned out like the dividends of a joint-stock company\nto its shareholders. There were some twenty or more of such kitchens\nhere, in each of which three chapattis and a modicum of dal, potatoes,\ngreens, or some other vegetable were given; and there was nothing to\ndebar a Sadhu from going to as many kitchens as he desired--in fact,\nhe knew he was conferring a benefit on the shareholders by consuming\ntheir victuals and supplying them thereby with merit.\n\nThe gnawing pangs of hunger made me mingle with the shoving, jostling\nthrong, and hurry from kitchen to kitchen till I had accumulated\nnine chapattis, and vegetables in proportion. Modesty then made me\nwithdraw, but not so most of my companions. One of these who rejoined\nme a little later had been to eight kitchens, and brought a supply of\ntwenty-four chapattis, and a large bowl of dal, potatoes, and other\nvegetables. The custom of the place then required me to descend to\nthe margin of the Ganges, and, squatting on a stone which was lapped\nby its pellucid waters, to consume my portion with draughts of the\nholy water. But not without a preliminary ceremony, for while the\nSadhus had been collecting round the kitchens, the cows and bulls\nhad been collecting on the banks of the river, and it was de rigueur\nfirst to set aside three portions, and give one to these holy animals,\na second portion to the birds in the air, and a third to the fish in\nthe river, after which the remainder, whether one chapatti or twenty,\nmight be consumed with an easy conscience and a courageous digestion.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nSADHUS AND FAQIRS\n\n    Buried gold--Power of sympathy--A neglected field--A Sadhu\n    converted to Christianity--His experiences--Causes of the\n    development of the ascetic idea in India--More unworthy motives\n    common at the present time--The Prime Minister of a State becomes a\n    recluse--A cavalry officer Sadhu--Dedicated from birth--Experiences\n    of a young Sadhu--An unpleasant bed-fellow--Honest toil--Orders of\n    Muhammadan ascetics--Their characteristics--A faqir's curse--Women\n    and faqirs--Muhammadan faqirs usually unorthodox--Sufistic\n    tendencies--Habits of inebriation--The sanctity and powers of a\n    faqir's grave.\n\n\nThere were, however, some bright spots even in Rishikes, gems\namong the rubble, lumps of gold concealed among the mass of baser\nmetals--minds earnestly seeking a higher spiritual life, losing\nthemselves, wearying themselves in the quest after truth, intensely\nconscious of the vanity of this world and its pursuits and pleasures,\nand striving to obtain in a contemplation of the One only Pure,\nthe only Unchangeable, the only True, that peace of mind which they\ninstinctively felt and experimentally found was not to be realized\nin the pursuit of material objects. The painful mistake which made\ntheir quest so hopeless was the endeavour to divest themselves of the\nbonds of their bodily material tabernacle, which, if subjugated to\nthe spirit, forms the basis on which that spirit can work healthily\nand naturally to its divinest development, but which, if altogether\nignored and contemned, reduces that same spirit to a morbid fantasy.\n\nWith regard to the learning of many of the Sanyasis there is not a\nshadow of doubt. There are men there fit to be Sanskrit professors\nin the Universities, and who are deep in the lore of the ancient and\nvoluminous literature of Hinduism. Yet who benefits by all their\nlearning? They may transmit it to a few disciples, or it may live\nand die with them; they make no attempt to methodize it, to draw\nconclusions, to contrast the old order with the new, to summarize or\nto classify, but cultivate it purely as a mental exercise or religious\nduty, without apparently even the desire to benefit the world at large\nthereby. This self-centred individualism, each mind self-satisfied,\nself-contained, with the springs of sympathy and altruism hard frozen,\never revolving on itself, and evolving a maze of mysticism, at length\nbecomes so entangled in its own introspection that other minds and\nthe world outside cease to have any practical existence for it. This\nis at once the most salient and the saddest feature of the learned\nand meditative Sadhu.\n\nBut there they are--men who might have shone academically, who might\nhave enriched the world with thought, research, and criticism, but\nwho have chosen to live for and within themselves, careless whether\nothers live or die, are instructed or remain ignorant. Though they\nhave categorically rejected altruism, and denied that they have a duty\ntowards their neighbour, and done their best to shut up the doors\nof sympathy, yet even with them human nature refuses to be utterly\ncrushed, and will assert itself. One can often discern a suppressed,\nyet insuppressible, hunger after sympathy, and one has no doubt but\nthat the sympathy which finds its highest expression in the love of\nChrist, whether acted or recounted, will penetrate their hearts, and\nfind a response. Unused, any organ will atrophy, and so their capacity\nfor sympathy may be latent and not easily roused. Let someone, however,\ngo to them as a fellow-creature, full of love and sympathy--not to\ndespise and to fault-find, but to take hand in hand and bring soul\nto soul--and he will find that the Sadhus of Rishikes are human,\nvery human, with the same spiritual hungerings and thirstings, and\nable to realize and rejoice in the same salvation.\n\nIt is a pity that more missionaries have not devoted themselves\nto working among these people. They would need to be men of great\ndevotion and self-abnegation, but there have been many such in other\nspheres. They would be repelled and disappointed by the callousness and\nfraud of the majority, but there are the gems to be sought out, and\nhow much hard granite is the miner willing laboriously to crush when\nhe is sure of finding nuggets of gold here and there! And among these\nSadhus are men who, converted to Christianity, would be apostolic in\ntheir zeal and devotion, and might, by travelling up and down India,\nnot now in the vain accumulation of merit, but as heralds of the\nGospel of goodwill, become the Wesleys and Whitefields of a mighty\nmass movement of the people towards Christ.\n\nAs an example of such a one and the way in which he was converted from\nthe life of a Sadhu to that of a Christian preacher, I will quote here\nthe account that Rev. B. B. Roy gives of his conversion. It shows how\nstrong a hold the ascetic Sadhu idea has on a religiously-minded Hindu,\nand how spontaneously his heart seeks in austerity and retirement for\nthe peace which a growing sense of sin and of the evil of the world has\ntaken away. At the same time it shows that, as in the case of Buddha,\nasceticism fails to afford any lasting comfort or peace to the weary\nstorm-tossed soul. He says: \"Constant starvation and exposure to all\nsorts of weather reduced my body to a living skeleton.\n\n\"After a few months' travel I came to Hardwar, and then proceeded to\na place called Rishikes, celebrated for its Sadhus and Sanyasis. My\nintention was to stay there and practise yoga [a kind of meditative\nasceticism], to attain to final beatitude; but a strange event took\nplace, which entirely changed my purpose. The rainy season had already\nset in; the jungle path was muddy, and at places full of water, so when\nI reached Rishikes I was almost covered with mud. Leaving my things in\na dharmsala, I was going to bring water from the Ganges when I smelt\na very bad odour. As I turned round I saw a dead body in the street,\nrotting in the mud. Around the corpse were the huts of the Sanyasis,\nwho were performing tap-jap almost the whole day; but none of them had\neven enough of compassion to dispose of the body of the poor man who\nhad died helpless on the street. I thought that if this was religion,\nthen what was irreligion? My spirit revolted against these Sadhus.\n\n\"I perceived in my heart of hearts that yog-sadhan cannot create that\nlove in man which makes a man feel for a fellow-man. Where there is\nno such love there can be no religion from God.\"\n\nAnd then he goes on to relate how, leaving Rishikes, he fell in with a\nChristian preacher, and eventually found in Christ that peace which all\nhis voluntary hardship had failed to afford, and how he had been led on\nand on in his pilgrim walk, till he had now the blessed and responsible\nwork of teaching others of his fellow-countrymen how best to bring\nthe good news of the eternal love to all the hungry and thirsty souls\naround. (He was then Principal of a theological seminary.)\n\nThere have already been many such cases of Sadhus and faqirs converted\nto Christianity, and these men and women have, as might be expected,\nexerted an immense influence on their fellow-countrymen. They have\npresented them with a Christianity in an Eastern dress which they\ncan recognize as congenial to the sentiments of their country, and\nexemplified in their own self-denying lives, full of the spirit of\nthat austerity which the Indian has long believed to be inseparable\nfrom religious zeal.\n\nDevotion, austerity, and asceticism in the cause of religion have\nbeen characteristic of India as far back as history records. Life\nhas always been precarious for the majority of the population in\nthe East, and plagues, famines and wars have familiarized them with\nthe tragic spectacles of multitudes of young and old being suddenly\ncarried off in the midst of business or enjoyment. Consequently,\ntheir sages dwelt much on the uncertainty of life, and developed\nthe doctrine that the world and its gay shows were only an illusion\nof the senses, and the goal of the spirit was to divest itself of\nthis illusion and rise superior to the limitations of matter. By\nthe practice of austerities, the grossness of the flesh, the demands\nof the body, and the storms of the passions, would be subdued, and\nthe spirit gain freedom from the endless round of reincarnation,\nand ultimately join the illimitable sea whence it came, as the drop\non the lotus-leaf falls back into the water and is lost therein.\n\nThen, it is universally believed that by these austerities the ascetic\ngains power with the gods, and can bring down blessings from above\nfor himself and his votaries. He can, in fact, extort favours from\nthe unwilling gods if he only carry his self-torture and privations\nto the requisite extreme.\n\nWe find much the same idea in the ascetic saints of the early Christian\nera. Thus Tennyson, in his poem \"St. Simeon Stylites,\" puts the\nfollowing words into the mouth of the saint. He is addressing a crowd\nof people who have come to worship him, and who believe that, owing\nto his great austerities, he has the power of granting their requests.\n\n\n        \"Speak! is there any of you halt or maim'd?\n        I think you know I have some power with Heaven\n        From my long penance; let him speak his wish.\"\n\n\nThe idea of merit is ever present to the Hindu. By practising austerity\nhimself, or by paying another to practise it for him, he can accumulate\nmerit, which will render each succeeding birth more propitious, and\nbring him nearer his ideal of bliss, when his soul will be finally\nfreed from the endless chain of reincarnations. It must, sad to say,\nbe admitted that with the great majority of the Sadhus of the present\nday the motives which actuate them are much more mundane and sordid\nthan what I have described above. Lazy good-for-nothings, too indolent\nto work, find that in the garb of a Sadhu they can be assured of a\nliving which, though it may not be a luxurious one, is yet one free\nfrom anxiety and toil. Fraudulent scamps enrich themselves on the\ncredulity of the people by counterfeiting austerities and miraculous\npowers, which successfully deceive the simple-minded, who, without\neven a desire to examine their claims and reputed performances too\ncritically, freely bestow gifts of money and kind on them, in the\nhopes of gaining their favour for the attainment of some benefit or\ncure, or other object.\n\nThen, there are the political faqirs, who use their position to\ndisseminate political propaganda, usually of a seditious nature. From\ntheir habit of travelling all over the country they have special\nopportunities of becoming the channels for the transmission of news,\nand before the days of telegraph and post-office the people would\nget most of their news of the rest of the country through these\npilgrims and ascetics; and even at the present day they are able\nto disseminate secret intelligence and transmit the orders of the\norganizing authorities in such a way as to be very difficult of\ndetection. When I travelled as a faqir I was frequently shadowed by\nthe police, and sometimes a talkative and inquisitive companion would\njoin me who eventually proved to be a detective in his disguise.\n\nAs examples of the superior Sadhu--the man who from high aspirations\nhas voluntarily given up position, honour, and wealth in the world\nfor the life of a recluse--I will give the two following instances.\n\nI met a man at Rishikes who had been the Prime Minister of a Native\nState. While in that capacity he had to deal with bands of robbers\nwho infested the highways, and had committed some cold-blooded\nmurders for the sake of the money and goods of the travellers. When\na number of these men had been caught and participation in murders\nproved against them, he found it his duty to condemn them to death\nby hanging. The sentence was duly executed, but from that day he got\nno rest at nights. Visions of the culprits would rise before him as\nsoon as he lay down on his couch, and they would appear to be pointing\ntheir fingers at him as the cause of their death. This so unnerved him\nthat he could not get a night's rest, and dreaded going to sleep. Want\nof rest and nervous perturbation prevented him from duly carrying on\nthe work of the State, and he asked for leave, nominally to attend\nthe funeral of his mother, but really to expiate his sin, and gain\nrepose of mind by a pilgrimage to a noted holy place. But he failed\nto get ease of mind there, and had it impressed on him that only by\nleaving the world and spending the rest of his days in seclusion,\nmeditating on God, would he find rest from the blood-guiltiness that\nwas tormenting him. He forthwith resigned his position in the State,\ndivided his property amongst his family, put on the garb of a Sanyasi,\nand was spending the rest of his days in contemplation and religious\nexercises.\n\nThe other case I met in a village on the Pir Pangal Range, where\nhe had built himself a cottage with a garden, in which he spent his\ndays in religious studies and contemplation, and receiving the many\npeople who used to come to him for advice, or to derive advantage\nfrom contact with his superior sanctity and wisdom. He had been\nRisaldar-Major in one of the regiments of Bengal Cavalry, and had\nfought under the British flag in several campaigns, and won wounds\nand medals. On retirement he forsook his home and relations and all\nworldly pursuits, and spent his time in the contemplation of the\nDeity and such works of charity as came in his way.\n\nBoth these men were truly devout, unostentatious spirits, who had\nfound that the delights of Divine communion exceeded the pleasures\nof this transitory world.\n\nSome Sadhus are set aside from birth for this life by their parents,\nand as a good example of such a one I will tell the story of a man\nwho joined company with me on the road near Ludhiana. I will relate\nit in his own words:\n\n\"My father is a small Hindu farmer in the State of Patiala, and\nwhen three sons had been born to him, he made a vow that he would\nconsecrate the fourth to the service of God. When I was born he\nallowed me to stop with my mother only till I was four years old,\nand then he took me to a certain large city, where there is a famous\nshrine, and a very holy man who is renowned for his piety and deep\nlearning. At first I wept much at being taken away from my brothers\nand sisters, but the Swami treated me kindly and gave me sweetmeats,\nand I used to fetch his mat and books and put oil in his lamp and do\nother little services for him. Then, as I got older, he taught me to\nread, first in Bhasha and then in Sanskrit, and he taught me all the\nlaws of worship and guides to bhagti (devotion). When I became a lusty\nyoung man, he told me to make pilgrimages to various sacred places\nand to visit other sages and holy men, and I went forth on my first\njourney, taking with me only a staff, a gourd for drinking-water,\na blanket, and a couple of shasters (holy books).\n\n\"I had never been out in the world before, and at first I was very\ntimid of asking people for food in new places that I had never hitherto\nseen; but people were nearly always kind to me and gave me food to\neat and shelter at night, and so I got bolder, and I would recite\nto them verses out of the holy books in return for their kindness,\nfor I had no money or anything else to give them. In this way I have\ntravelled many hundreds of miles on foot, and seen many sacred places\nand holy men. After each journey I return to my preceptor, and tell\nhim my experiences, receive fresh counsel and instruction from him,\nand now I am just starting on a fresh journey to Dwarka.\"\n\nLooking down at my bicycle, I felt quite a luxurious traveller\ncompared with this brave fellow, starting off with no hesitation and\nno misgivings on a journey of hundreds of miles, with not a pice in\nhis wallet, and a kit even more slender than my own.\n\nHe had little idea as to where Dwarka was, but was content to ask\nhis way day by day, and trust to God and the hospitality of his\nco-religionists on the way for sustenance.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"sometimes I do want to see my family. My brothers are\nall gryasthas (married householders) now, and I sometimes take a few\ndays' leave from my master to visit them and my parents. I am quite\nhappy in this life, and do not desire money or service or children;\nfor when my heart is lonely I read in my copy of the Bhagvad Gita and\nget consolation, and I like that better than any other book because it\nmakes my heart glad. No, I have never met anyone who has spoken to me\nof Christ, and I do not know anything about Him; but I am quite happy\nbecause I am sure that if I continue a life of penury and celibacy\nand pilgrimage I shall attain salvation.\"\n\nTo resume my own experiences at Rishikes. When night came on I was\ngiven shelter in one of the monasteries, and though the floor was\nstone, and a chill wind blew through the cloisters, I should have slept\nsoundly had not my next bed-fellow--or rather floor-fellow, for there\nwere no beds--thought it incumbent on him to spend the night shouting\nout in varying cadence, \"Ram, Ram, Jai Sita Ram, Ram, Ram!\" I suggested\nthat keeping a weary fellow-pilgrim awake all night would detract from\nthe merit he was acquiring, but only received the consolation that if\nhe kept me awake I was thereby sharing, though in a minor degree, in\nthat merit; so it perforce went on till, in the early morning hours,\nmy ears grew duller to the \"Ram, Ram,\" and my mind gradually shaped\nitself into an uneasy dream of ash-covered faqirs, chapattis, cows,\nand squatting Sadhus. Next day, in the forest road near Rishikes,\nI came across a string of hillmen bowed down under heavy loads of\nfirewood, which they had been cutting in the hills near to sell for\na few pice in the bazaar. This was their daily lot, earning just\nsufficient by continuous hard labour to find for themselves and their\nfamilies sufficient coarse food for a meagre sustenance. The question\nrose in my mind, Who approached nearer the ideal?--the idle Sadhu,\nwho makes religion an excuse for living in greasy plenty on the\nhard-won earnings of others, while doing next to nothing himself,\nor these woodmen of the forest, and all the dusty toilers in the\nranks of honest labour? And an answer came, clear and sure:\n\n\n    \"Honest toil is holy service; faithful work is praise and prayer.\n    They who tread the path of labour follow where My feet have trod;\n    They that work without complaining do the holy will of God.\n    Where the many toil together, there am I among My own;\n    Where the tired labourer sleepeth, there am I with him alone.\"\n\n\nThe ascetics of Afghanistan are almost all Muhammadans, and I shall\ntherefore speak of them as faqirs, that being the counterpart of\nthe Hindu Sadhu. These faqirs have started from an entirely different\nreligious standpoint, and travelled along a very different experimental\nroad to those of their Hindu brethren; but the ultimate result is\nstrikingly similar in many salient features, and Hindu asceticism\nand pantheistic thought have deeply coloured their ideas and habits.\n\nThere are endless different orders of Muhammadan faqirs, most of\nwhich had their origin in Central Asia, Bukhara and Baghdad having\ncontributed perhaps the largest share. Each of these orders has its\nown method of initiation, its own habit of dress, set phrases and\nformul\u00e6, and other characteristics.\n\nExcept in a few cases in India, none of these orders of faqirs\nor dervishes adopt the ochre garments of the Sadhus. The most\ncharacteristic garment of the faqir is known as the dilaq, which is\na patchwork, particoloured cloak. The owner goes on adding patches\nof pieces of coloured cloth which take his fancy, but I have never\nseen him washing it, and as it gets old he stitches and patches it\ntill very little of the original is left. The older and more patched\nit is, the greater is the pride he takes in it, and he would not part\nwith it for love or money.\n\nThe order which is most commonly seen in Afghanistan is that known\nas Malang, or wandering dervish. These men have a dilaq, a staff,\nand a begging-bowl, and travel all about the country begging. They\nare nearly all illiterate, and their knowledge of their own religion\ndoes not usually extend beyond certain chapters from the Quran and\nstock formul\u00e6. But they have a wonderful vocabulary of words of\nabuse and curses, and the people are in great fear of being visited\nby some calamity if they offend one of them and incur his wrath,\nas they believe in their being able to blast the life of a child\nor the offspring of a pregnant woman, or to bring other calamities\ndown from heaven on the heads of those with whom they are wroth. Once\nwhile I was stopping in a village on the border one of these gentlemen\ncame to say his prayers in the mosque, and had left his shoes at the\nentrance, as is the custom. After he had said his prayers with great\nsanctimoniousness he went to resume his foot-gear, but found, to his\ndismay, that some thief had gone off with them. Then followed a torrent\nof curses on whoever the thief might be, in which all imaginable\ncalamities and diseases were invoked on him and his relations,\naccompanied by every epithet of abuse in the Pashtu vocabulary, and\nthat is pretty rich in them! The very volubility and eloquence of his\nanathemas would have dismayed any ordinary thief had he been within\nearshot, but whether he ever got back his shoes or not I cannot say.\n\nWomen who are childless will visit various faqirs, whose prayers have\na reputation for being efficacious for the removal of sterility. They\nwrite charms, and dictate elaborate instructions for the behaviour\nof the woman till her wish be fulfilled, and they take the gifts\nwhich the suppliant has brought with her. Were this nothing more\nthan a fraud dictated by avarice, it would be reprehensible, but\nworse things happen; and when a child is born after due time, the\nhusband of the woman cannot always claim paternity. It is a strange\nthing that in a country where husbands so jealously guard their women\nfrom strangers they allow them so much freedom in their dealings with\nfaqirs, whom they know to be morally corrupt. It recalls the Hindu\nSadhu and divinity, who is popularly supposed to have attained an\nelevation where ethics are no longer taken account of.\n\nIn a religion such as Islam it is scarcely possible for an order\nof dervishes to be orthodox, and, as a matter of fact, most of them\nare extremely unorthodox, and there is often considerable disputing\nbetween them and the priesthood on this account. But the faqirs have\nsuch a hold over the people at large, and in many ways are so useful\nto the propagation of Islam, that the Mullah find it more politic to\noverlook their heresies and use them in the promotion of religious\nzeal and fanaticism.\n\nIt will be found that the underlying current of religious thought in\nnearly all these orders is that of Sufism, and Sufism is the product\nof the aspiration of the Mussalman soul, wearied with the endless\nrepetition of forms and ceremonies, after something more spiritual;\nand in its search after this spirituality it has drawn most on the\npantheistic philosophies of Hinduism.\n\nPantheism is, of course, the antithesis of the Judaic theocracy of\nIslam, and we read of a faqir who went about calling out, \"Ana hu,\nana el haqq\" (\"I am He, I am the Truth\"), being put to death for\nblasphemy; but all the same, these Muhammadans, who feel most the\naspirations of the soul for Divine communion, find it in a greater\nor less assimilation of pantheistic doctrine.\n\nMost of the faqirs one meets with in Afghanistan are lazy fellows, who\nabhor hard work, and find they can make an easy living by begging, and\nacquire at the same time, what is so dear to many natures, the homage\nand respect of the credulous and superstitious. When one does meet\nwith one who is willing and able to converse on spiritual topics, one\nusually finds that he is a disciple of Hafiz, the great Sufi poet of\nthe Persians. Like the Hindu Sadhus, they are much addicted to the use\nof intoxicants (though rarely alcohol), and charras and bhang (Indian\nhemp) are constantly smoked with tobacco in their chilams. When thus\nintoxicated they are known as mast, and are believed by the populace\nto be possessed by divinity, and to have miraculous powers of gaining\nfavours from heaven for those who propitiate them.\n\nWhen such a faqir dies he is buried in some prominent place, often at\nthe crossing of roads, and his tomb has even greater efficacy than he\nhimself had when living; and those who wish to obtain his intercession\nwith the Almighty for themselves bring little earthen cups full of oil,\nwith little cotton wicks, which they burn at his grave, as a Roman\nCatholic burns candles at the shrine of a saint. The most propitious\ntime for doing this is on Thursday night, and at such times one can see\nthe tombs of most renowned sanctity a veritable illumination with the\nnumbers of little lamps burning far into the night. At the same time\nofferings are given to the custodian of the shrine, who is himself\na faqir, by preference a disciple of the one whose grave he tends.\n\nIn one such shrine that I visited there were the remains of what\nmust once have been a fine sycamore-tree, but which was then, with\nthe exception of one branch, a mere withered shell, which had to be\npropped up to prevent its falling to the ground. The one green branch\nwas said to be miraculously kept alive by the shadow of the tomb\nfalling on it; and if any childless pilgrim would take home a few\nleaves and give a decoction of them to his wife, he would assuredly\nbefore long be the happy father of a son; while for the relief of the\nother ills to which flesh is heir there was a masonry tank outside,\nin which the sick, the halt, and the blind bathed, and were said\nto receive the healing they came for. Many of our hospital patients\nhave already been to this and similar faith-healing establishments,\nso they are not always efficacious.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nMY LIFE AS A MENDICANT\n\n    Dependent on the charitable--An incident on the bridge\n    over the Jhelum River--A rebuff on the feast-day--An Indian\n    railway-station--A churlish Muhammadan--Helped by a soldier--A\n    partner in the concern--A friendly native Christian--The prophet\n    of Qadian--A new Muhammadan development--Crossing the Beas\n    River--Reception in a Sikh village--Recognized by His Highness\n    Yakub Khan, late Amir--Allahabad--Encounter with a Brahman at\n    Bombay--Landing at Karachi--Value of native dress--Relation to\n    natives--Need of sympathy--The effect of clothes--Disabilities\n    in railway travelling--English manners--Reception of visitors.\n\n\nIn this chapter I shall recount a few of the more interesting incidents\nthat befell me and my disciple when on our pilgrimage as Sadhus. As\nwe were travelling without money, we were dependent on the offerings\nof the charitable not only for our daily food, but for such little\nitems as the toll required for crossing the bridges over the five\ngreat rivers of the Panjab. The first river we came to was the Indus,\nand there being no bridge over that part of the river, it is crossed\nin ferry-boats. We had no difficulty here, for we were known; and\none of my pupils was on duty at the ferry and assisted us over. It\nwas not so easy, however, at the Jhelum River. When we reached the\nwestern end of the bridge, the toll-keeper stopped us for payment. I\ntold him that I was a Christian Sadhu journeying to Hindustan, and\nthat we had no money of any kind with us. He may have believed us,\nhe may not; but from the way he eyed the bicycles, probably he did\nnot. Anyway, he told us plainly--no pice, no path; and no setting\nforth of the peculiar privileges of a Sadhu could make him budge from\nthe practical financial view of the question, so we had nothing for\nit but to sit quietly down by the roadside and await events.\n\nShortly afterwards a party of Hindus, on their way to their morning\nablutions in the river, sauntered up, and stopped to gaze at the novel\ncombination of bicycles and Sadhus. This soon led to conversation,\nin the course of which we told them the object of our journey and the\ncause of our detention. They then tried with no little earnestness to\nget us to relinquish the preaching of the Gospel for the promulgation\nof the Vedas, and even offered to pay the two annas required for our\ntoll if we would accede to their plan. This gave me an opportunity\nfor pointing out the attraction of Christ, which made it impossible\nfor one who had once tasted the sweets of following in His footsteps\nto desert Him for another master.\n\nThey clothed their contempt for the message of the Cross in their\ncompassion for our hopeless predicament, as they considered it;\n\"for,\" they said, \"there are no Christians here to help you over,\nand it is not likely that Hindus or Mussulmans would help you on such\na mission.\" I replied that I was content to wait by the roadside till\nhelp came, and that I felt sure we should not have long to wait. \"Go\nback into the town--there are Christian missionaries there who will\nhelp you; but no one will be coming this way if you wait all day.\" I\nreplied that if it was the will of Allah that we should cross,\nHe could send to us there the means requisite, as much as in the\ncity. I had scarcely spoken when we saw an officer, attended by a\nsowar, riding up in the direction of the bridge. When he reached us\nwe recognized an officer from the frontier, who had, as we learnt,\njust then been sent down to Jhelum on special duty. He recognized me,\nand appeared amused and surprised at meeting me under such peculiar\ncircumstances. When he learnt what was the cause of our detention,\nnaturally the toll-keeper had not long to wait for his two annas,\nand I was able to point out to my Hindu friends that it had not taken\nlong for God to send us help from even so far as Peshawur, and we\nwent on with light and thankful hearts. Truly, two annas is worth\nmuch more in some circumstances than one hundred rupees in others!\n\nWe then wheeled comfortably along the interesting Grand Trunk Road,\nnow to the north and now to the south of the railway-line. The crisp\nmorning air of a Panjab winter has an exhilarating effect on the\nappetite, and we were only exceptional in that we had the appetite\nbut no wherewithal in our wallets to satisfy the same. To tantalize us\nthe more, it was the feast-day succeeding the great Muhammadan fast,\nand in all the villages the men were feasting, and the children, gaily\ndressed in their gala clothes, were amusing themselves on numerous\nswings, hung up on the trees round the villages, or in playing about\non the roads. My Afghan companion, who had been having the fast\nwithout the feast, finally went up to a party of merrymakers, and,\nafter saluting them with the customary \"Salaam alaikum,\" said that he\nwas very hungry, and would be glad of a share of the 'Id cakes. The\nman addressed surveyed us in a leisurely fashion from head to foot,\nand said: \"You! you call yourselves faqirs, ride bicycles, and beg\nyour bread! Phew!\" and turned his back on us. My companion turned to me\nwith a very un-Sadhu-like expression on his face, saying: \"We Afghans\nused always to say that Panjabi Muhammadans are only half Mussulmans;\nbut now I see we were wrong: they are not a quarter. In our country\nwe call in every stranger and traveller to share our feast.\" The\nlatter part of his statement was certainly true; as to the former,\nI must leave those who know them best to judge.\n\nShortly after midday we reached Lala Musa, and, visiting the station,\nfound the train had just come in. We mingled with the bustling crowd,\nand watched the native sweetmeat and refreshment vendors going from\ncarriage to carriage, calling out: \"Garm chapati! garm chapati awe\ndal!\" (Hot rolls! hot rolls and pulse!); \"Ghi ki pakorian!\" (Vegetable\nfritters fried in butter!); \"Garm dudh!\" (Hot milk!), and various\nother delicacies; and we watched the fortunate possessors of pice\nselecting some tempting sweetmeat or panake. Then we passed on to\nthe refreshment-rooms, where the European passengers were taking a\nhurried meal, and I remembered many occasions when I had been into\nthat same refreshment-room without being a tithe as hungry, and now,\nhow could I venture inside? Should I not be greeted with: \"Now then,\nout of this; no faqirs wanted here!\" So I wandered back among the\nthird-class passengers. A Sikh native officer spoke kindly to me and\noffered me some cardamoms, and then the whistle blew. The passengers\nhurried to their seats, and we were left alone.\n\nA railway porter entered into conversation, and, finding who we\nwere, directed us to go to the village, where there was a Christian\npreacher. We went to the caravanserai, where there were some Afghan\ntraders sitting on a bed. They seemed surprised at getting a greeting\nin Pashtu, but returned it heartily. Then I saw a well-dressed man\nwalking off towards the bazaar, and something in his face and a book\nin his hand seemed to indicate him as the Christian preacher, and,\non introducing ourselves, we found we were not mistaken. He asked us\ninto his house to rest, and informed us that he was an agent of the\nScotch mission at Gujrat. After the rebuff of the morning we were\nloth to say that, though the sun was now declining towards the west,\nwe were still awaiting our breakfast; so after a time I rose to go,\nwhen, to our no small satisfaction, the kind man asked us to stop\ntill tea was ready.\n\nIt was my custom at most of the towns to preach in the bazaar, and\nusually, during or after the preaching, someone in the audience would\noffer us hospitality. When we reached Pind Dadan Khan, however, it\nwas too late for this, darkness having set in; and after wandering\nabout the bazaar for a time, and talking to a few people, none of\nwhom offered us hospitality, we went to the public serai, or inn,\nknown as \"Victoria Ghar,\" where travellers can rest without payment,\nand spent the night there. Someone had given us two pice, and with\nthis we bought a pice chapati and a pice of sugarcane, and dined\noff this. Being thirsty, I asked a respectable Muhammadan who was\ndining on a bed hard by for a glass of water. He gave it; but when\nI raised the glass to my lips, he said: \"I would like to know first\nwhat your religion is.\" I replied: \"I am a Christian.\" Hearing this,\nthe gentleman took the glass from me, saying: \"I do not wish to sully\nmy glass with your touch.\" This was a bigotry which I am glad to say\nI rarely met with, and is certainly not justified by the teaching of\nthe Quran, which permits commensality with Christians and Jews.\n\nAfter this rebuff we did not care to ask any other inhabitant of\nthe place for water. The next day we travelled on to Khewra, and,\non passing through the bazaar, saw the Government doctor, a Hindu\nassistant-surgeon, sitting outside the dispensary seeing patients. He\nknew us, and in place of water brought us milk, and then got us a\nbreakfast. Welcome as this was, his kind greeting cheered us even more.\n\nThe next river we had to cross was the Chenab. On arriving at the\nbridge, I found a detachment of English soldiers on the march, and one\nof these gave the two annas required for our toll. About two years\nlater, when visiting Lahore, a missionary friend there said to me:\n\"I met a friend of yours the other day.\"\n\n\"Indeed! Who was that?\"\n\n\"I was travelling up to Peshawur by rail, when some English soldiers\ngot into the carriage, and one of them, looking at me, asked me if\nI was a Padre. On my answering his question in the affirmative,\nhe then said he was glad of that, because he took an interest in\nmissions. I asked him why he did so. 'You see,' he said, 'some time\nago we were on the march to Lahore, and at the Chenab bridge there\nwas a missionary chap who hadn't the money for crossing the bridge,\nand so I paid it for him. I became a kind of partner in the concern;\nthat is why I take an interest in missions.' This was your friend, was\nit not?\" I, of course, recalled the incident at the Chenab bridge, and\nhope my friend has continued his practical interest in mission work.\n\nThe last day of the year 1903 found us at Narowal, a village famed\nin the missionary annals of the Panjab. Leaving that, we soon reached\nthe Ravi River, which lower down flows by the walls of the capital of\nthe Panjab. Here it was running clear and cold below a sandy cliff\non its western bank. It had evidently been encroaching on the lands\nof the farmers, and engulfing many a fertile acre, and the houses of\nthe village, too, the ruins of the latter showing some way along the\nbank. The east bank was a low, wide expanse of sand, which had long\nbeen left dry by the receding stream. Seeing no other way of crossing,\nwe were preparing to doff our clothes and ford, when a good soul of\na zamindar came up.\n\n\"Peace be with you.\"\n\n\"And on you be peace.\"\n\n\"Whither are you going, O Sadhu-log, and what is your order and sect?\"\n\n\"We are Christian Sadhus travelling from Afghanistan to India, and\nare seeking means to cross this river.\"\n\n\"Then you are my teacher,\" said the zamindar, brightening into a smile,\n\"and I will get a boat and take you across.\"\n\nAlthough the good fellow had been brought to the brink of ruin by the\ndestruction of his lands and house by the rapacious river, he went and\nprocured a boat and rowed us across, knowing that it was not in our\npower to give him any reward, except to pray for him that he might\nrecover his lost land, and to give him some spiritual comfort.\n\nAfter the pleasure of meeting with this brother so opportunely, we\nwent on encouraged, and soon reached Dera Baba Nanak, the residence\nof the descendants of the famous Guru and the seat of a darbar (Sikh\ntemple), the gilded dome of which we saw glittering in the sun. Passing\nover our stay here and at other intervening places, I might mention\nour visit to Gadian, rendered famous by being the headquarters of the\nMuhammadan reformer Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, who died in 1908. This man had\ncollected round him a band of zealous followers, but, unfortunately,\nthe good he might have done was nullified by his impious claim to be\nthe returned Messiah, in accordance with which he professed miraculous\npowers, and demanded a correspondingly abject obedience.\n\nHeavy rain-clouds were overcasting the sky when we set out, and we had\nscarcely covered the eleven miles of unmade road that connects Batala\nwith Gadian when the downpour commenced, and continued throughout\nthe day. Moulvi Muhammad Sadiq, the head-master of the Mirza's High\nSchool, received us with the greatest courtesy, and gave us one of the\nschoolrooms to rest in, and shortly afterwards, as the Mirza himself\nwas indisposed and unable to see us, we were taken into the presence\nof his lieutenant, Moulvi Moha-ud-din. This Moulvi is very learned,\nprobably the most learned in Gadian; he comes from the town of Bhera,\nin the Panjab, but has travelled a good deal. He was teaching theology\nto a large class of youths and men in Eastern fashion, reclining\non a simple mat and cushion himself, while his pupils sat on the\nground round him. Tea was brought in for us and him while he went\non teaching. The Hadis from which the pupils were reading was on the\nsubject of prayer, and the Moulvi explained the passages with great\nforce and perspicuity as the pupils read them out turn by turn. After\nsome dissertation on the correct intonation of prayers, he took up\n(probably for our benefit) a comparison of the texts of the Quran and\nthe Bible, showing how the custom of committing the former to memory\nhad resulted in its verbal correctness. Following the same line,\nMuhammad Sadiq compared with this the recent criticisms on the Bible\nby the Christian expositors; and the \"Encyclop\u00e6dia Biblica,\" which\nhe seemed to have studied minutely, afforded him an inexhaustible\nstore of argument.\n\nAfter this the midday meal was brought in, and then we were sent for\nby a relation of the Nawab of Maler-Kotla, who had become a disciple\nof the Mirza, and had devoted himself and his resources to his\nservice, and was living in the village in a simple, almost Spartan,\nmanner. After conversation with him and others, I was shown the high\nschool, college classes, and boarding-house. Though the buildings\nfor the latter were second-rate, yet the management seemed good, and\nthe inmates orderly and well trained. In particular I noticed that,\nthough the next morning was chilly and drizzly, yet all were up at the\nfirst streak of dawn, and turned methodically out of their warm beds\ninto the cold yard, and proceeded to the mosque, where all united\nin morning prayers, after which most of them devoted themselves to\nreading the Quran for half an hour to one hour. Many of the masters,\ntoo, seemed very earnest in their work, and had given up much higher\nemoluments to work for quite normal salaries in the cause to which\nthey had devoted themselves.\n\nWe were fairly tired out with a long day of talking and interviewing,\nand slept soundly. We were disappointed, too, in receiving a message\nthat the Mirza was still too unwell to see us, but would do so in the\nmorning. However, when morning dawned we heard with much regret that\nhe had passed a bad night and was still unable to see anyone. As his\nattendants were unable to hold out any prospect of a speedy interview,\nand as, indeed, we felt doubtful whether the interview was desired,\nwe prepared for an early start. We had been kindly and hospitably\nreceived, and there was something inspiriting in seeing a number\nof educated men thoroughly zealous and keen in the active pursuit\nof religion, though the strong spirit of antagonism to Christianity\nwas saddening. Moreover, one could not but feel that, as in similar\ncases in England and America, here was a man of great ability who had\neffectually deceived himself, and had then been the means of deceiving\na multitude of others into believing his false claims. As we read in\nMatthew xxiv. 11, \"False prophets shall arise and shall deceive many.\"\n\nThe next river we came to was the Beas, and when approaching it\nfrom the direction of Gurdaspur, on a bright winter's morning,\nwe were struck by the beauty of the landscape. On our left was a\nglorious panorama of the Himalaya Mountains, range surmounting range\nof glistening snow, a vision of dazzling white. All was set off by\nthe varying greens and browns of the rich Panjab Plain to the east\nand south, the forests and fields of which lay mapped out before us,\nand the River Beas a gleaming streak of silver meandering through\nits fertile tracts. Reaching the river, we found that the toll-keeper\nwas on the farther side and the river itself unfordable. Asking the\nboatmen whether we could cross without paying toll, as we had no means\nof doing so, they said the only way was for one of us to cross over\nand ask. We thought on our part that it would be better for both of\nus to cross over and ask, and as the boatmen saw no objection to this,\nwe heaved our machines on board one of the boats and crossed over with\na number of camels and bullocks. Safely arrived on the other side,\nwe went to the toll-office and did what most Easterns do when they\nare in a quandary--sat down and waited to see what would turn up. The\nofficial in a leisurely way took the toll of all the passengers,\nquadruped and biped alike, eyed us narrowly without speaking, and\nthen, in still more leisurely fashion, began to smoke his hookah. As\ntime passed we both became contemplative, he on the wreathing columns\nof smoke from his pipe, I on the bucolic landscape around me. His\npatience was the first to waver, and he broke the silence with:\n\"Now, Sadhu-ji, your pice.\"\n\n\"Indeed, I carry no such mundane articles.\"\n\n\"Then what right had you to cross the Sarkar's river in the Sarkar's\nboat?\"\n\n\"Indeed, our purpose was to crave a favour of your worthy self.\"\n\n\"What do you desire of me, O Sadhu-ji?\"\n\n\"Merely that, as we are on a pilgrimage to India and have no money,\nyou would allow us to cross without paying toll; and as you were on\nthis side and we were on that, and nobody would take our message,\nthere was nothing for it but to come in person to ask the favour.\"\n\n\"Very well, Sadhu-ji, your request is granted, and may you remember\nme.\"\n\nAs an instance of the reception we got in a Hindu village, I may\ncite the case of one which we reached in the late afternoon in the\nSirhind district. Most of the men must have been working out in the\nfields when we arrived, for we scarcely saw anyone as we wended our\nway to what seemed the principal house in the village, and, sitting\ndown outside it, my companion began to sing a popular Indian hymn:\n\"Zara tak soch ai ghafil kih kya dam ka thikana nai\" (Think a little,\nO careless one, how little certainty there is of this life.) First\nsome children and then some men collected, chief among the latter\nbeing a venerable and stately old Sikh, the owner of the house and\nthe religious guru or sodhi of the place.\n\nThe song ended, he inquired who we were, and what were our object\nand destination; and when he had been satisfied on all these points,\nhe informed us that, though he had never entertained Christian\nSadhus before, yet if we were ready to be treated like other Sadhus,\nhe would be very glad to offer us the hospitality of his house. We\nthankfully accepted his offer, and he prepared a room for us, and\nlater on brought us a supper of rice and milk in his own vessels,\nwhich to us, after a long and tiring day, seemed quite a royal repast.\n\nIt was not often that I was recognized as a European, until I had\ndeclared myself, but the following occasion was a notable exception. I\nwas sitting in the little jungle station of Raval, and a party of\ngentlemen in semi-Indian costume arrived from a hunting expedition. The\nchief was an elderly thick-set man with an iron-grey beard, dark\npiercing eyes and gold spectacles. He eyed me narrowly a short time,\nand then said to one of those with him in the Persian language:\n\"That man is an Englishman.\" I replied, \"I recognize you gentlemen\nas Afghans.\" He assented, and I entered into conversation with one of\nthe Afghans with him, who told me that it was His Highness Yakub Khan,\nex-Amir of Afghanistan, who had thus recognized me.\n\nOn the other hand, at Allahabad I was going on my bicycle along a\nroad which was slippery from a recent shower of rain. In turning a\ncorner the machine skidded and I fell, and as I was picking myself up,\nan English girl who was passing, called out: \"O Sadhu! you must have\nstolen that bicycle, and that is why you do not know how to ride.\"\n\nFinally we made our way to Bombay, having been helped the last part\nof our journey by a friend who bought us our railway-tickets. Here\nwe desired to return homewards by taking the steamer to Karachi. We\nthen had no money, but I was asked to give a lecture on my travels,\nand after the lecture several of the audience gave me sums amounting\naltogether to eleven rupees. When, however, we went down to the docks\nto take passage, we found that our steerage fare cost ten rupees, and\nfive rupees was demanded for each of the bicycles too! We purchased\nour tickets and stood on the quay awaiting developments. Among the\ncrowd was a Brahman holy man, who was sprinkling the passengers with\nholy water and receiving a harvest of coppers in return. He came\nto sprinkle us, but we declined the honour. He then asked why we\nwere waiting instead of going aboard with the other passengers. I\ntold him that we were waiting because we could not pay the fare of\nour bicycles. He retorted that unless we invoked his blessing (for\na remuneration) we should assuredly never start, but that, having\ndone so, everything would turn out well. When we still declined,\nhe went away prophesying that all sorts of misfortunes would befall us.\n\nThe last of the passengers had gone aboard, the appointed time for\nstarting had arrived, but no friend had appeared to help us out of the\ndifficulty. The Brahman came back and taunted us with our position,\nand what it might have been had we but accepted his offer. All I could\nsay was, \"Wait and see.\" Just as the steamer was about to start a\nship's officer called to us and said that the captain was willing to\ntake our bicycles free of charge. With a friendly nod to the Brahman,\nwe crossed the drawbridge and in a minute more were under way.\n\nWe had now one rupee left for food, but still we were not left in want,\nfor when that was finished the Goanese cooks came and inquired about\nus and gave us a share of their own dinner. At Karachi the steamers\nanchor out in the harbour a considerable distance from the landing\nwharves, and passengers are taken ashore in native boats, a number of\nwhich crowd alongside the moment the ship is moored. But these boatmen\nnaturally require remuneration, and we had none to give, so that it now\nseemed as though we should have greater difficulty in getting off the\nsteamer than we had in getting on. Just then a launch came alongside\nfor the mails, and a ship's officer came up and asked if we would like\nto go ashore on it. Of course we accepted the offer with alacrity,\nhad our machines on board in a trice, and were safely on terra firma\nagain before the native boats had got away from the steamer.\n\nThis pilgrimage gave me many opportunities for philosophizing\non the r\u00f4le that a man's clothes play in gaining him a reception\nor a rejection. My missionary brethren took various views on the\nsubject. Most exhibited incredulity as to the expediency of donning\nnative garb, while showing some sympathetic interest; few were\nantagonistic on principle, though one missionary brother, indeed,\nweighed the matter a long time before admitting us into his house. He\nthought that the gulf between East and West was a priori unbridgeable;\ntherefore no attempt should be made to bridge it, and that the relation\nbetween a missionary and his native associates should be sympathetic\n(patronizing?), but not familiar. To go about with an Indian brother,\nsharing the same plate and same lodging, seemed to him the height\nof unwisdom, even to shake hands being to go beyond the bounds of\npropriety; while as for an Englishman donning native clothes, he was\ndimming the glamour of the British name in India, which in his eyes\nwas next door to undermining the British rule itself. My mind had\nbeen made up on this subject before I had been very long in India,\nand on no occasion did circumstances tend to weaken my own opinion\nthat the gulf is by no means unbridgeable, and that the sooner and\nthe more heartily we set about bridging it, the better it will be\nfor the promotion of the kingdom of Christ in this land.\n\nSympathy cannot be wholly made to order: it is largely dependent on\nextraneous and adventitious circumstances, and I believe that the\nadoption of native dress increases that sympathy on both sides--on\nthe side of the missionary, because it enables him to realize more\nvividly what treatment is often meted out to our native brethren and\nhow they feel under it, and on the part of the Indians because the\nrestraint which they usually feel--at least, in country districts--in\napproaching a Sahib is removed.\n\nNo doubt one reason why Indian Christians are so largely adopting\nWestern dress is that they receive much more courtesy, conspicuously\nso when travelling on the railway. I had occasion to make some\ninquiries in Batala Station office. I might have drummed my heels on\nthe threshold till I was tired had I not been fortunate in meeting an\nIndian brother wearing English dress, who walked in without diffidence,\nthough when I attempted to follow him, I was met with a push and a\n\"Nikal jao!\" (Get out!). On another occasion, travelling by the night\nmail from Lahore, I was anxious to get some sleep, and I saw that\nthe native compartment was crowded, while in the European compartment\nthere was only a single English soldier. He barred my entrance with a\n\"Can't you see this is only for Europeans?\" I humbly suggested that I\nbelonged to that category, but his prompt \"Don't tell me any blooming\nlies!\" made me think it better to seek my night's rest in another\ncompartment. While at Lucknow I essayed to visit the European cemetery\nat the old Residency, but the custodian would not hear of admitting\nme, utterly discrediting my statement that I was a European. Surely\nthis unnecessary and most offensive restriction might be removed. I\ncan readily judge from my own feelings at the time how naturally and\ngreatly self-respecting Indians would resent this piece of racial\nantipathy, which permits a common gate-keeper to subject any Indian\nto indignity.\n\nOne naturally associates with those who give the heartiest welcome,\nand when in native garb the attraction is to those for the sake of\nwhom we have come out to this land, while, on the other hand, there is\ndanger that, when dressed for the drawing-room or the tennis-courts,\nwe may spend too much of our time on that side of the gulf. If we\nEnglish realized how much pain we often cause our Indian brethren,\nnot so much by what we say or do as by the way we say or do it and\nthe way we act towards them, a great cause of racial misunderstanding\nand ill-feeling would be removed.\n\nSuppose a Sahib is seated in his study, and the bearer announces \"A\nSahib has come to call,\" the answer is given at once: \"Ask him into\nthe drawing-room.\" A moment after an Indian gentleman arrives, and the\nbearer is told to give him a chair in the verandah, or he may be even\nleft standing in the sun, as happened to me more than once, till the\nSahib had finished eating his lunch or writing his letters. At more\nthan one bungalow, whether it belonged to a missionary or an official,\nthe bearer would not even report my presence till he had catechized me\nas to who I was and what I wanted. I have had to wait as long as two\nhours before the Sahib found leisure to see me, being left meanwhile\nwithout a seat except God's good earth, in the wind and cold, or in\nthe heat and sun, as the case might be. A missionary, of all people,\nshould not have a room set apart and tacitly understood to be \"for\nEnglish visitors only,\" or make a habit of receiving the two kinds of\nvisitors in altogether different style, or allow his menial servants\nto hustle and hector the already diffident and nervous native visitor.\n\nWhen I was on my pilgrimage with my disciple, how our hearts opened to\nthose true friends who received both of us alike, and did not chill\nus at the outset with the suggestion, \"I suppose your friend would\nlike to be taken to the house of the catechist.\" Why, forsooth? Many\na time we were both the guests of the humblest of our Indian brothers,\nand perfectly happy in unrestrained communion with them; others, too,\nof stations high above our own received us both with an unreserved\nhospitality, in which nothing was allowed to show that any difference\nwas made between English and Indian, and we honoured and loved them\nfor it. Why, then, should others be at pains to show that they\nhad one treatment for the Englishman and another for the Indian,\nor perhaps conceal that feeling so poorly that we were never able to\nfeel at ease with them? Which, I ask, is more likely to remove racial\nantipathy and unrest, and to make our Indian brethren feel that the\nChristianity which we preach is really genuine and means what it says?\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nA FRONTIER EPISODE\n\n    A merchant caravan in the Tochi Pass--Manak Khan--A sudden\n    onslaught--First aid--Native remedies--A desperate case--A last\n    resort--The Feringi doctor--Setting out on the journey--Arrival\n    at Bannu--Refuses amputation--Returns to Afghanistan--His wife\n    and children frightened away.\n\n\nIt is evening, and a party of Lohani merchants are slowly defiling\nwith their camels through the Tochi Pass, one of the mountain gorges\nwhich connect our Indian Empire with Afghanistan, and its last beams\nare shining in the faces of a dozen stalwart men now returning to their\nhomes near Ghuzni, with the proceeds of their winter's trading on the\nplains of India. The men and some five or six women are on foot, while\ntheir children and two or three more women are mounted on some of the\ncamels, which would otherwise be returning unladen, their loads having\nbeen sold in Multan. The women, veiled as usual, show little more to\nthe passer-by than one eye and a small triangular piece of cheek;\nwhile the men are either holding the nose-strings of the camels,\nor walking beside them with their guns over their shoulders, and a\npistol and long knife or sword peeping out from their open cloak;\nfor the weather is getting hot now with approaching summer, and they\nare passing through the hostile country of the Wazirs, that wild\nborder mountain tribe who think it their ancestral right to harass\nand plunder the merchant caravans passing through their district as\nmuch as opportunity allows.\n\nAmong the merchants we are struck by one fine, tall, broad-shouldered\nfellow, stalking along by the side of the foremost of his three camels,\nhis gun and sword ready for use, but, in the absence of any sign of\nan enemy, walking at ease, humming quietly to himself a native ditty,\nin expectation of speedily seeing his home again, and rejoining his\nwife and three children, who have not accompanied him on this journey.\n\nThese three camels form his wealth and the centre of his hopes\nand prospects, for by means of them does he yearly take down his\nmerchandise of skins and fruit to the markets of India, and return\nin early summer--it is now the month of May--with the proceeds to\nhis home.\n\nManak Khan--for that is his name--has been down many a winter\nnow with his three camels to the Derajat, or that part of India\nnearest Afghanistan, and has had more than one scuffle with the\nWazirs, while passing through their land, in defence of his little\nstock-in-trade. His fellow-travellers evidently consider him one of\ntheir boldest and best men, for it requires no little knowledge of the\ncountry, and courage, too, to lead a party composed largely of women\nand children, and encumbered by a lot of baggage, through mountain\npasses, where they are daily and nightly exposed to the attacks of\nthe mountaineers hiding behind the rocks, or crowning the heights on\neither side, and thirsting for their small possessions.\n\nThe sun has now disappeared behind the hill before them, and, like\ngood Muhammadans, they make a brief halt for the evening prayers. The\nmen cleanse their hands and feet with sand--for there is no water to\nbe had here--and, selecting a smooth piece of ground, spread their\nshawl and, facing the Holy City, perform the requisite number of\ngenuflections and calls on God.\n\nSuddenly there is the loud report of several guns; the bullets whistle\nthrough the midst of the party, and in a moment all is confusion\nand uproar. The camels start up and try to escape; the women seize\ntheir children or the camel-ropes; while the men snatch their guns,\nwhich had been just now put down, and hastily take aim at some dozen\nmen running down the mountain-side in the direction of the camels,\nwith their long knives ready for action. But the first volley had\nnot been without effect: Manak Khan is lying on the ground, blood\nflowing fast from a wound in his left leg just above the knee, and\nanxiously is he watching what is now a hand-to-hand conflict close by\nhim. The Wazirs have rushed among the camels and have cut their cords,\nand are attempting to drive them off; while the other merchants,\nhaving discharged their matchlocks, attack them with their swords,\nand camels and men are mingled in one shouting, slashing m\u00eal\u00e9e.\n\nFortunately for the Lohanis, two of the leading Wazirs fall quickly\nwith fatal sword wounds, and the remainder, seeing that the Lohanis\nhave not been caught napping, and that the tide is turning against\nthem, make off as quickly as they appeared, and the merchants have\nfar too much to do in quieting their frightened camels to think of\na pursuit. A hasty council is held. It is found that one man has\nhis arm broken by a sword cut, and Manak Khan has his leg broken,\nthe ball having passed through the bone and opened the knee-joint,\nwhile most of the remainder can show smaller cuts.\n\nThe women now come to the rescue. A veil is torn up and the wounds\nbound, some being stitched by the women pulling hairs out of\ntheir own heads, and using their ordinary sewing-needles on their\nhusbands' skin. An immediate march is resolved upon, but then comes\nthe difficulty about Manak Khan. Moving him causes him great pain\nand the blood to gush forth afresh, while to leave him is out of the\nquestion, for his throat would be cut long before morning. Whatever may\nbe the faults of an Afghan, he is not one to forsake a friend in the\nhour of need, and so it proves here. A piece of cloth is half burnt,\nand the blackened shreds, soaked with oil, rubbed over the wound,\nand the leg then bound to a musket with the ample folds of a shawl,\nand, lastly, our hero is tied on a rough bed, and mounted high on\nthe back of a camel.\n\nGreat were the lamentations when Manak Khan reached his village\nhome; and instead of his strong step and hearty greeting consoling\nhis wife for her long winter of separation, she came forth only to\nsee the pain-marked face and helpless form carried in on a bed,\nand to hear the account of the night attack in the dread Tochi\nPass. \"Bismillah! let the will of God be done,\" consoles the village\nMullah, while some practical friend starts off for the nearest hakim,\nor doctor. The latter shortly arrives; and the wife retires into the\ncottage, while the greybeards assemble in the courtyard to offer their\nbits of experience and advice, and vow vengeance over the Quran on\nthe luckless Wazirs who committed the deed.\n\nAfter no little ceremony and interchange of ideas, the doctor decides\non a combination of two remedies, for the case is a serious one:\nthe leg is greatly swollen from the groin to the calf, and unhealthy\nmatter is issuing from both the apertures of entry and exit of the\nbullet, while the shattered bones grate on each other, and cause\nthe man to bite convulsively the rolled-up end of his turban, on the\nslightest movement.\n\nFor the first remedy a fat sheep is bought and slain and immediately\nskinned, the reeking skin being applied at once to the bare leg,\nwith the bloody side next the skin, from groin to heel, and the whole\nbound up and placed in the hollow formed by burning out the central\ncore from the half of a three-foot length of tree-trunk.\n\nFor the second remedy a message is sent to a certain religious devotee,\nwho has an asylum in the neighbourhood and a great reputation for\ncharms which will cure all manner of diseases (when it is the will\nof God that they shall be cured). Next day he arrives, clad in simple\ngoatskin, with the hair outside, and a cap of similar material. Many\nlong prayers are gone through with the help of the Mullah, and at last\na small piece of printed paper torn from an Arabic tract is produced,\nand carefully sewn up in a small piece of leather, and tied in the\nname of God round the man's ankle.\n\nThen comes the last ceremony, and one not to be overlooked on any\naccount--that of providing a feast at the sick man's expense for all\nparties concerned. His little store of rupees is fetched out, and\nreturns lighter by a third to the folds of the old turban in which\nit was carefully hoarded, while the charm-maker is seen leading away\na fine milch goat.\n\nDay follows day, and night follows night, but still Manak Khan lies\ntossing feverish on a bed of pain, and still is the patient Sadura\nwatching by his bedside, and daily bringing in fresh milk and butter\nand sugar, and making tempting pancakes, only to be left half tasted\nby the fever-stricken frame of her loved one. At last the tenth day\ncomes, on which the sheepskin is to be removed, and the hakim comes,\nand the Mullah comes, and the greybeards come, and prayers are read,\nand money is given; but, to the disappointment of all, the limb\nis found no better, swollen as before, and bathed in evil-smelling\nmatter, which makes his friends, all but his faithful wife, bind a\nfold or two of their turbans over their noses and mouths.\n\nSo week follows week. One herb is tried after another; the last of\nhis rupees disappears among the hakims, for, peradventure, think they,\nthe doctor did not heal it at once because his fee was not high enough,\nso a larger fee is given, and a hint that if only he will say for what\nprice he will speedily heal it, they will go all lengths to pay him;\nfor it must be unwillingness, not incapability, that prevents his\ndoing so.\n\nSo two months passed away, but still the limb was swollen and sore,\nstill was he unable to rise from his bed of pain.\n\nThen they determined to send a messenger to the neighbouring town\nof Ghuzni, and call in a doctor of great repute from there. True,\nhis charge was high--one of the three camels must be sold to defray\nit--but what hope was there for them with the breadwinner hopelessly\ncrippled? So the messenger went and the doctor came, and his remedy\nwas tried. Two bunches of wool were thoroughly soaked in oil and then\nset fire to, and fastened on the skin near the knee; the pain was\ngreat, but Manak Khan stood it bravely, tightly biting his turban-end\nand grasping his friend's arm in a spasmodic grip. When the burnt\nflesh separated after a few days the ulcers left were dressed with\nsome leaves from a plant growing on the shrine of a noted saint,\nand renewed every two or three days. Still there was no improvement,\nthough charms and amulets were bought at high prices from many a saint,\nand the Ghuzni doctor came again and took away his second camel.\n\nManak Khan and Sadura were beginning to lose all hope, when one day\na traveller was passing through their village on the road to Kabul,\nand as he was sitting with the villagers, telling them the latest\nnews from India, one of them asked him about a scar on his left arm.\n\n\"Ah,\" he said, \"when I was in Dera Isma\u00efl Khan I had a terrible\nabscess; but there was an English doctor there, and he lanced it, and\ngot it quite well in a couple of weeks; and,\" he went on, \"numbers of\npeople have been going to him, and I have seen some wonderful cures.\"\n\n\"Really!\" say they; \"and had you to pay him a great deal?\"\n\n\"No; that is the strange part: he will not take any money from\nanyone, but sees all the people that go to him, be they ever so poor,\nfor nothing.\"\n\n\"That cannot be; he must have a reason behind it all.\"\n\n\"No, not unless it be this--that you know he is a Feringi, and, like\nall other Feringis, an unbeliever; but, more than that, he seems\nto want all the people to believe on Hazrat 'Esa\" (Lord Jesus) \"as\nbeing the Son of God\" (here the Mullah and several of the men spit\non the ground and say, \"Tauba, tauba\"), \"and to this end he has got\nan assistant who preaches to all the people who go to him, and tells\nthem about Hazrat 'Esa, and how he was a hakim and cured people.\"\n\n\"Well, this is strange, but I wonder if he could cure Manak Khan.\"\n\nAnd so all particulars are asked, and the advice of all the greybeards,\nwhile Manak Khan catches at the idea as a dying man at a straw. Sadura,\nhowever, is not so easily convinced. She did not relish the idea of\nher husband being separated from her once more, and moreover, said\nshe, where the doctor of Ghuzni had failed, how was it likely that\nanother doctor, and he a blasphemer of their Prophet, would succeed?\n\nSo the idea was waived for a time, and things went on as before,\nwhile their last camel was sold to pay their increasing debts, and\ngloom settled on the little circle. But as the September days were\nlengthening and still no hope appeared, they settled that they would\ntry the Feringi's medicine. But then came the difficulty as to ways\nand means; their last camel had been sold, and Manak had no friends\nwho would take him down to the plains free of expense.\n\nAt last a bright idea struck them: their little daughter, Gul Bibi,\nwas now seven years old, and many a man would be willing to lend eighty\nor ninety rupees on condition of her being kept for his wife. And so\nit was settled: the bargain was struck, and with the proceeds a man\nwas engaged to take him on camel-back down to the Derajat plains. The\nvillage carpenter made a kind of litter, which could be fastened\non the back of a camel, and as his wife must stop for the children,\nhis old mother volunteered to take the journey with him and tend him\nthrough it.\n\nIt was a sad farewell this time, and long did Sadura stand at the\noutskirts of the village watching the camel and its precious burden,\nwith the old mother and sturdy camel-driver trudging by the side,\ngradually disappear round a corner of the defile.\n\nOn the seventh day they emerged from the Gomal Pass on to the Plain\nof Tank, and here they stayed a little to recuperate with the kind\nDr. John Williams, of the Christian hospital there; then going on\ntill the trees and mudhouses of Dera Isma\u00efl Khan came in sight. Here\na fresh disappointment awaited them: the Feringi doctor had left Dera,\nand gone to carry on his work in Bannu, one hundred miles farther. But\nwhat cannot be cured must be endured, and so the camel's head is turned\ntowards Bannu, and the weary march resumed once more. Five days later,\nas the evening was drawing on--it was now late in November--Bannu was\nreached, and the new Feringi doctor inquired for; and a few minutes\nlater the camel, with its strange burden, came through the gates of\nthe mission compound, and the long tedium of the three hundred miles'\njourney was brought to a close.\n\nSuch was the story with which Manak Khan came to me, and which\nhe gradually unfolded to me some two months later, as confidence\nhad increased, and I used to sit by his bedside hearing tales of\nhis mountain home. Great was the sorrow with which I had to tell\nhim that his case was incurable, that his leg had become thoroughly\ndisorganized, and amputation was necessary; but, like most of his race,\nhis aversion to the loss of a limb made him prefer the long months of\na bed of sickness and the tedious and repeated operations performed\nin an endeavour to save the limb in a usable condition. In this way\nhe and his mother remained with us till the middle of April, when,\nas the heat of the plain began to be felt, they were compelled to\nreturn to their mountain home, with little or no improvement.\n\nYet with one great difference, which lightened up the sadness of his\ndeparture: he had learnt to believe on Christ Jesus as his own Saviour,\nand to look up to Him as the One who carries us safely through sickness\nand trial, and is preparing a home for us at last; and very earnestly\ndid he assure me that during the long days of patient suffering in\nour little mission hospital he had learnt to lift his heart in prayer\nto Him who hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows, and look\nup to Him as his Saviour.\n\n\"And,\" said he, \"if God spares my life, I will tell my people of Him,\nand come back with my family to be received into the Christian Church.\"\n\nSo he left us, and our prayers followed him on his long and painful\njourney home; and may it not be that he is a light shining in a dark\nplace, and witnessing in that little Afghan village of how he went for\nbodily healing, but God saw fit to pour light into his soul instead,\nand make the very tedium of a protracted illness in the Bannu Mission\nHospital the guiding light to heaven?\n\nEvery now and again we got news of Manak Khan. He had taken with him\nsome books in the Pashtu language, a New Testament and some others,\nand these used to be read by a Mullah in his village and some other\nfriends of his who could read. His leg, however, never got well,\nand was the cause of his death some three years later. When on his\ndeath-bed, he directed his wife to go to Bannu with her children and\nplace herself under my protection, and one autumn morning she arrived,\nwith three children. Before she had been with us many days, however,\nothers of her tribe came and warned her that if she stopped with us\nshe would lose her religion, sell herself to the Evil One, and be\nlost for ever, and they accompanied these admonitions with threats, so\nthat ultimately she left us, and we have not seen her since. But who\nknows? Sometimes after the lapse of years these people return to us,\nand the thread of circumstance is picked up again where it had been\ncut, as though there had never been any breach of continuity at all! Or\nit may be the seed goes on growing in some distant Afghan village\nunknown to us, but known to and tenderly cared for by Him who will not\nlet even a sparrow fall to the ground without His will, and who has\ncounted among His own many a one now resting in a Muhammadan graveyard\nagainst that day when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nFRONTIER CAMPAIGNING\n\n    The Pathan warrior--A Christian native officer--A secret\n    mission--A victim of treachery--A soldier convert--Influence\n    of a Christian officer--Crude ideas and strange motives of\n    Pathan soldiers--Camaraderie in frontier regiments--Example\n    of sympathy between students of different religions in mission\n    school--A famous Sikh regiment--Sikh soldiers and religion--Fort\n    Lockhart--Saraghari--The last man--A rifle thief--Caught\n    red-handed.\n\n\nSome of the finest fighting material of the Indian Army comes from\nthe Pathan tribes, both on the British side of the border and across\nit in Tirah and Waziristan, and very pleasant fellows some of these\nPathan warriors are. Often when wandering about the frontier have I\nreceived the hospitality of some outpost or stayed with the native\nofficer in some blockhouse, and listened to them recounting tales\nof active service or of their mountain homes. Many of these native\nofficers are old students of the frontier mission schools, and these\nextend a doubly hearty welcome. Some are serious religious inquirers,\nand, from having travelled and mixed with all kinds of men, are able\nto examine the claims of Christianity with less prejudice than the\npriestly class.\n\nA notable instance is that of Delawar Khan, who was a Subadar of\nthe famed Corps of Guides. He was at one time a notorious robber\non the Peshawur frontier, and a price had been set on his head. The\nRev. R. Clark relates of this man [2] that once a Government officer\nmet him in a frontier village beyond the border, and offered him\nservice in the Guide Corps if he would lead an honest life, or\nthe gallows the first time he was caught within our territory if\nhe refused. The excitement of his adventurous career had a great\ncharm for him, and the teaching of the priests had persuaded him\nthat he was doing God's service in his lawless course. He, therefore,\nscornfully refused the Englishman's offer, saying he would continue his\nlawless life, in spite of whatever the Sahibs could do. After a time,\nhowever, he thought better of it, and as a price was set on his head,\nhe determined to apply for it in person, thinking he might as well\nhave it himself as anyone else, and so, taking his own head on his\nshoulders, he went and claimed the reward. The officer, knowing the\nkind of man he was, again offered him service, which he then accepted,\nand enlisted as a soldier in the Guide Corps, in which, by his bravery\nand fidelity, he rapidly rose to be a native officer. Ultimately\nhe became convinced of the truth of the Christian doctrine which he\nhad heard the missionaries preach in the Peshawur bazaar, and, with\nhis characteristic bravery, did not hesitate publicly to acknowledge\nhimself a Christian and receive Christian baptism. Through his example\nand under his protection some other soldiers in the same corps also\nbecame Christians.\n\nHis death is thus related by the Rev. R. Clark in his account of\nhis life: \"A few months ago he was sent by Government on a secret\nmission into Central Asia. He was a Christian, and Government trusted\nhim. He passed safely through Kabul on his way to Badakhshan. As he\nwas travelling in disguise, a man who had heard him preach in the\nPeshawur bazaar betrayed him to the judge, who condemned him to be\nblown away from a cannon as an apostate. During the trial a copy of\none of Dr. Pfander's works dropped from his bosom. The judge took it\nand tore it in two. The King of the country, however, heard of it,\nand asked to see the book, and, having read a part of it, pronounced\nit to be a good book, and set Delawar Khan at liberty. Soon after,\nhowever, he died in the snow on the mountains, a victim to the\ntreachery of the King of Chitral.\"\n\nA native officer in the native levies of the Kurram Valley was\nconverted through reading a Pashtu Testament which an officer gave him,\nand when I visited him in his home in Shlozan, in the Kurram Valley,\nI found that he was in the habit of reading the book to some of his\nneighbours who came together to listen; and although up to that time\nhe had never met a missionary, he had made much progress in Christian\nexperience and knowledge of the Bible.\n\nI had a pupil in the mission school who enlisted in one of the frontier\nregiments. He was the son of a Mullah of the Khattak tribe. After he\nhad been in the regiment about a year he wrote me a letter saying\nthat he desired Christian baptism, and was looking forward to the\nday when he would be standing by my side preaching the Gospel to\nhis fellow-countrymen. This was through the influence of a Christian\nofficer in his regiment. Not that the officer tried to convert his\nmen--far from it--but the beautiful transparency of his character\nand the sincerity of his religion drew his men irresistibly to him,\nand several desired to become Christians. A Pathan becomes very much\nattached to an officer whom he admires, and will bear any hardship\nor danger for him, and therefore it is not surprising that some have\nbecome desirous of adopting his religion. For a long time there was\na sect on the frontier called the Nikal Sains, who formed a kind\nof schismatic Christian sect owing to their devotion to Nicholson,\nof Delhi fame, which amounted in their case almost to a worship of him.\n\nOn one occasion a Pathan soldier in a frontier regiment came to me,\nurgently begging me \"to make him a Christian.\" He was so ignorant\nof what Christianity meant that I could only offer to give him\ninstruction, but he was so much on outpost duty that this was\nvery difficult. He knew that in order to become a Mussulman it was\nsufficient to repeat the Kalimah in a mosque, and he thought that there\nmust be some corresponding Christian formula, and that by repeating\nit in our church he might become a Christian. He thought, further,\nto prove his sincerity to me by saying he was ready to wear a topi\n(hat) instead of a turban. His desire apparently rose merely from an\nadmiration of his Christian regimental officers.\n\nIn the Tochi Militia there was a Wazir Subadar, a fine fellow, who\nhad seen much active service, and would soon be retiring. One day he\nwas murdered, possibly by a Sepoy whom he had been obliged to punish.\n\nShortly afterwards his son came to me, earnestly begging me to admit\nhim to the Christian Church. Apparently it was to escape from the duty\nthat devolved on him as a Muhammadan of revenging his father's death\nby another murder. He was not a coward by any means, but knew he would\nbe killing an innocent person, for the real murderer was beyond his\nreach, and he recoiled from committing such a crime, and he knew that\nour teaching was against revenge, and therefore desired to become a\nChristian. As he was a soldier, I would not act without a reference\nto his commanding officer, and as he was excited and suffering from\nmuch mental tension, I thought it better to wait. Ultimately he did\nshoot a man, who may have been his father's murderer or not, and I\nbelieve was sentenced to penal servitude for life in consequence.\n\nThere is something peculiarly attractive, I think, about the\nfrontier regiments. They have very hard service, constant outpost\nduty, few nights in bed, with ever the danger of the Pathan rifle\nthief and ambuscades. And yet officers and men are always cheerful,\nhospitable, and full of the spirit of camaraderie. Even the Sikhs and\nPathans seem to lay aside their hereditary feuds, and fight and work\nheartily together, shoulder to shoulder. Some of the most striking\ntributes to the influence of the Christian rule of England are seen\nin this fellowship between different races and religions. In the\nlittle frontier wars one sees Pathan soldiers side by side with the\nstalwart Sikhs, or, it may be, the little Gurkhas with the tall Panjabi\nMuhammadans. Much the same is seen in the playing-fields of our mission\nschools, where Christians, Muhammadans, Hindus, and Sikhs are as\nloyal to one another as if they had never had a religious difference.\n\nA scene I shall always remember was the funeral of a young Sikh\nstudent, who was a brilliant member of the school football eleven, and\nwas carried off one summer recently by sudden illness. His Muhammadan,\nChristian, and Hindu fellow-students vied with each other in showing\nhonour to his memory, and accompanied the body to the burning-ground\non the banks of the Kurram River. For the Muhammadans at least this\nwould have at one time been considered as most inconsonant with\ntheir religion.\n\nThe fine, tall Sikh soldiery of the frontier regiments are some of the\nnicest men one could have to deal with; the native officers are such\nperfect gentlemen, and so gentle and docile when conversing about their\nSikh religion or the Christian Scriptures, that it is difficult to\nrealize what lions they are in the fight, and how they are the heroes\nof so many a frontier epic. A Sikh soldier is always ready to talk on\nreligious matters, and delights in singing the beautiful theistic hymns\nof Kabir and Nanak and others of his countrymen; and they will sit\nround untiringly, listening with unflagging interest for hours, while\nI talk or read to them from the Christian Scriptures. In the frontier\nwar of 1897 no Sikh regiment covered itself with greater glory than the\n36th, which was quartered at Fort Lockhart when the Afridi rising first\nbroke out. I was in camp on the Samana Range, outside Fort Lockhart,\nthat August just before the outbreak, and these fine soldiers used\nto sit round me on the rocks outside the fort while we talked of the\nteachings of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of those of Guru Nanak, which\npresent so many points of resemblance to them. A few weeks later,\nand many of those very men had died fighting bravely on the rugged\nmountains and defiles of Tirah, on which we were then looking down.\n\nOne incident will bear repetition, as possibly some of the very men\nto whom I was then speaking were the heroes of it. A few hundred yards\nfrom Fort Lockhart is a small fort called Saraghari, which commands one\nof the eminences of the Samana Range. This was occupied by a handful\nof these Sikhs under a native officer. Looking down westward from the\nSamana Range are the terraced valleys and a labyrinth of the rugged\nmountain ranges of the Afridis; and so suddenly did these tribes\nrespond to the tocsin of war when Seyyid Akbar and his associate\nMullahs sounded it all through Tirah that the various forts on the\nSamana were surrounded by the lashkars before it was possible to\nreinforce or withdraw the little garrison of Saraghari. The garrisons\nof Forts Lockhart and Gulistan had, in fact, their hands full with the\ntribesmen who had entrenched themselves in sangars all around, from\nwhich they kept up such a fire that no one could show himself. The\nAfridis saw that the post of Saraghari was the most easily won; the\nfort itself was smaller and less strongly built, and contained only\na small garrison of their hereditary enemies, the Sikhs.\n\nThere was a signaller in the little garrison, and he signalled over\ntheir dire straits to Fort Lockhart, but from there the answer was\nreturned to them that it was impossible to send reinforcements--they\nmust fight to the end. For them to retreat was impossible, for the few\nhundred yards between the two forts was swept by the Pathan bullets,\nwhile their riflemen swarmed in the sangars and behind the rocks\nall along. Not a man could have lived to reach a distance of twenty\nyards from the fort. The Sikhs knew that the Pathans would give them\nno quarter, so they prepared to sell their lives dearly. The Afridis\nworked nearer and nearer, and many of the brave defenders fell. The\nsignaller signalled to Fort Lockhart, \"Five of us have fallen\"--ten,\ntwelve, and finally there was only the signaller left. The Pathans\nswarmed over the walls with their exulting \"Allahu Akbar!\" and the\nthroat of the last wounded Sikh was cut; so the noble garrison fell\nat their posts to a man. The fort has never been rebuilt, but there\nis a monument at the place to record this gallant bit of frontier\nwarfare, and another monument to them was erected in the centre of\ntheir holy city, Amritsar, not far from the Golden Temple, their\nchief place of worship. Here I made the acquaintance of the gallant\nofficers of this regiment, who were in a few weeks to bear the brunt\nof the severest of the fighting and hardships of that campaign. I read\nservice on the last Sunday before hostilities commenced, and among the\nofficers who attended was their brave commander, Colonel Haughton,\nwhose commanding presence and bravery made him an easy target later\non for the tribesman's bullet, but not before he had covered himself\nand his regiment with glory.\n\nI will here record two little episodes, which are of common enough\noccurrence on the frontier, but illustrate the dangers that the\nsentries run when on duty among such cunning and stealthy rifle\nthieves as the Pathans; and show also that, wily though he is, the\nPathan is not infrequently caught by an equally wily native police\nor levy officer.\n\nA regiment had marched into Bannu, and, there being no quarters\navailable, were encamped on the parade ground. The night being dark and\nrainy, sentries had been doubled, and were much on the alert. Suddenly\ntwo of them were stabbed from behind by Pathans who had crept into\nthe lines unnoticed, and watched their opportunity for running their\nlong Afghan knives into the chest of the unsuspecting soldiers. The\nthieves got off with both rifles, and, though a hue and cry was raised,\nno trace of them was found.\n\nOnce I was spending a night in a levy post on the frontier, when the\nnative officer in the command of the post got information through a\nspy that an Afridi was about to cross the frontier, having in his\npossession a number of cartridges that had been stolen from the\nlines of a British regiment in Peshawur. A train was just about to\narrive from Kohat, and the officer went down to meet it. All the\npassengers seemed quite innocent; some traders returning from market,\na few soldiers going on leave, and some camp followers, appeared to\nbe all who had arrived. There was, however, a Mullah with a Quran,\nwhich he was carrying rather ostentatiously, and a wallet, which was\nless obvious, under the folds of his shawl. Here was his man. He went\nup to him. The Mullah was indignant at the supposition--he had merely\nbeen into Kohat to buy a few household trinkets. He was marched off\nto the levy post all the same, and, on turning out the contents of\nhis wallet, eighty-one Lee-Metford cartridges were disclosed. That\nnight the Mullah spent in the cells reciting passages in the Quran\nwith a long and monotonous intonation which kept me awake a long time\nwith its weirdness. I suppose, however, it may have been meant to\nprocure some indulgence for his offences, or to serve as a proof of\nhis sanctity; but it certainly did not soften the heart of his captor,\nthe native officer, himself a Muhammadan and a Pathan; nor, I trow,\ndid it mitigate his subsequent punishment.\n\nI was once travelling in the garb of a Mullah from Kohat to Peshawur. I\nhad walked through the Kohat Pass, and reached a village called\nMitanni, about sixteen miles from Peshawur. I was tired, and finding\nhere a tumtum about to start for Peshawur, I obtained a seat therein\nfor one rupee. Two other Peshawuris were fellow-passengers, but were\nnot present when I paid the driver my fare. On the road the driver\nstopped at a village, and his place was taken by another man. The first\ndriver omitted to tell him that I had already paid my fare, so when\nwe got near Peshawur he demanded it. I told him I had already paid\nthe other driver, but he would not believe it. Unluckily the other\npassengers were unable to corroborate my statement; an altercation\nensued in the bazaar at Peshawur, and he wanted to keep my bedding\nin lieu of the fare. As a crowd was collecting, it was decided to\nsettle the case by driving me to the police-station. The driver began\nvolubly to tell the police inspector how \"this Bannu Mullah has got\ninto the tumtum at Mitanni, and now refuses to pay his fare.\" The\ninspector asked me a question or two, and took in the situation,\nand then told the driver to take me to my destination, and the case\nwould be seen into, if necessary, when the other driver arrived. Before\nalighting I told the driver who I was, and that I was sorry he seemed\nto put so little faith in the word of a Mullah. \"Ah, Sahib,\" said he,\n\"this is an evil age, and even if the Mullah swears on the Quran,\nwe can only believe what we see.\"\n\nWhen travelling in native garb one often sees the reverse of the\npicture, and is able to see common events in new lights. Officers of\nthe Government while on tour are often quite unconsciously a great\ntax on the village where their camp is pitched. Their servants take\nprovisions from the people at merely nominal prices, or even without\npayment at all. Many officers, knowing how villainously some native\nunderlings will extort when they get the opportunity, often insist on\nall payments being made before them according to a fixed scale. Even\nthen the men find other ways of living in clover at the expense of the\nvillagers. This was brought home to me one night when I was stopping at\na village called Moach. The police officer of the district was in camp\nthere, but I arrived late, and went to the house of a native, where\nan old patient of mine visited me, and, finding me hungry and tired,\nwent off to get me some milk. He sent it me by the hand of a young boy,\nwho had to pass by the camp of the police officer, where his cook was\npreparing his dinner. By his side was a saucepan containing several\npints of milk which had been ordered for the great man's supper, each\nhouse bringing its share according to a roster kept for the purpose\nat the police-station. The cook saw the boy coming with the milk,\nand said to him:\n\n\"Come along; pour it in here.\"\n\n\"But I have not brought this for the Police Sahib. I have brought\nit for---\"\n\n\"Nonsense! Who else here wants milk? All the milk has been ordered\nfor the Sahib. Pour it in, or I will send you to the lock-up.\"\n\nI got no milk for my supper, and I do not suppose the officer had\nmore than would go into a custard-pudding and a cup of cocoa; but\nhis myrmidons--they knew how to look after themselves, and enjoyed\na good time.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nCHIKKI, THE FREEBOOTER\n\n    The mountains of Tirah--Work as a miller's labourer--Joins\n    fortune with a thief--A night raid--The value of a disguise--The\n    thief caught--The cattle \"lifter\"--Murder by proxy--The\n    price of blood--Tribal factions--Becomes chieftain of the\n    tribe--The zenith of power--Characteristics--Precautionary\n    measures--Journey to Chinarak--A remarkable fort--A\n    curious congregation--Punctiliousness in prayers--Changed\n    attitude--Refrains from hostilities--Meets his death.\n\n\nBetween the Khaibar Pass on the north and the Kurram Valley on the\nsouth lies a tangled mass of mountains and valleys called Tirah. Here\nalmost inaccessible escarpments, on which the wary goatherd leads\nhis surefooted flock, alternate with delightful little green glens,\nwhere rivulets of clear water dance down to the rice-fields, and\nhamlets nestle among the walnut and plane trees. In one of these\nvillages was a poor country lad called Muhammad Sarwar. His father\nwas too poor to own flocks, and, having no land of his own, Sarwar\ntook work with a miller. It was one of those picturesque little mills\nwhich you see in the valleys of the Afridis, where a mountain-stream\ncomes dashing down the side of a hill, and is then trained aside to\nwhere the simple building of stones and mud covers in the mill-stones,\nwhile two or three mulberry-trees round give such delightful shade\nthat the mill becomes a rendezvous for the idle men and gossips of\nthe village to wile away the hot summer noons.\n\nBut Sarwar was of a restless disposition, and the pittance of flour\nwhich, together with a kid and a new turban on the feast-days, was all\nhe got for his labours, did not satisfy his ambition. Then there was\nhis friend Abdul Asghar, who, though as poor as himself to start with,\nnow had four kanals of land of his own and a flock of some forty sheep\nand goats browsing on the mountain-side. It would not do to inquire\ntoo closely how Abdul Asghar came by this wealth, but he used to be\nout a good deal of nights, and he was one of those who was \"wanted\"\nat the Border Military Police-station at Thal for his part in several\nrecent cases of highway robbery with violence.\n\nThis kind of life was more to the taste of Sarwar than the drudgery of\nmill-grinding, and before long he and Asghar had joined hands. Once,\nindeed, they were fairly caught, though they escaped the penalty of\ntheir misdeeds. They were on the prowl one dark night, when they saw a\nshrouded figure creeping along by a farm wall. They had scarcely hid\nbehind a bush when the unknown man turned and came directly towards\nthem. Thinking they had been observed, Asghar called out: \"Who are\nyou? Stand, or I fire.\" The figure halted, and said in a low tone:\n\"It is well; I am your own.\" The man then came up and suggested\nthat they should spend that night together and share their luck. He\ntold them, too, that there was a fine fat dumba in the farmyard hard\nby that they might begin upon. Asghar slipped over the wall, while\nSarwar and the stranger kept guard, and soon returned with the sheep\nacross his shoulders, its head wrapped up in his chadar to stop its\ncries. They took it off into the jungle, and as the stranger said he\nwished to be home early that night, they decided to stay and divide\nit there and then.\n\nThe stranger surprised them by saying that he would be content with\nmerely the head as his share, so the \"Allahu akbar\" was pronounced,\nthe throat cut, and the head given to the stranger, who went off\nwith their parting greeting, \"May it be well before you,\" which he\nreturned by saying, \"In the safety of God.\"\n\nNext morning they were astonished by the sudden appearance of a posse\nof the Border Military Police, who, before they were able to escape\nor offer resistance, handcuffed them and led them off, vouchsafing\nno more explanation than that the Chhota Sahib had ordered it. They\nwere much mystified, and could not think which of their enemies had\ngot up a case against them; but they could learn nothing from the\npolice, who either could or would tell nothing more. When, finally,\nthey were taken before the Sahib, and he started away with, \"So, you\nhave been after your old game again, and stole a sheep last night from\nthe farm of Nuruddin\" (the light of religion), it was with difficulty\nthey could conceal their astonishment and compose themselves quickly\nenough to reply that they were honest men, had never stolen anything\nall their lives, and could bring witnesses to prove that last night\nthey never stirred from the chauk of Fath Muhammad of Dilrogha village.\n\nThe Sahib had a twinkle in his eye as he led them on with further\nquestions to forswear themselves still more hopelessly, and then\nfinally turned to a Sepoy by his side and simply said, \"Bring it\nin.\" The Sepoy saluted, went out, and in a moment returned bringing\nsomething wrapped up in a chadar, which he placed on the table before\nhim. The Sahib unrolled it, and exposed to their astonished gaze the\nvery sheep's head they had given to the stranger the night before. He\nhad been none other than the Sahib himself! They could no longer hide\ntheir confusion, and could say nothing more than \"La haula wala kowata\nilia bi 'llah\" (There is no majesty or power but in God; He only is\ngreat). They were treated to a very pointed lecture, and told that\nnone of their movements could remain concealed from the eyes of the\nSarkar, and that next time they were caught they would be lodged in\nthe hawalat (gaol).\n\nThough Sarwar and his friend gained hereby a wholesome dread of the\nubiquity of their ruler, yet the lesson did not restrain them from\ncarrying on their depredations. Not long after Asghar was killed in a\ncattle-lifting raid on a neighbouring tribe. The villagers were aroused\nby the barking of the village dogs, started a chigah in pursuit,\nand, though Sarwar escaped, a stray shot hit Asghar in the chest\nand put an end to his career. Sarwar made such progress in the art,\nand carried his depredations so far afield, that he became known on\nall the hills round by the sobriquet of \"Chikki,\" or the \"Lifter.\"\n\nOne day a chance circumstance gave a fresh turn to his career. Mullah\nDarweza, of Saman village, had a bitter grudge against a malik of the\nvillage because he had enticed away one of his talibs, a beautiful\nboy of thirteen, and now, instead of the boy spending his days over\nthe Quran and Sheikh Sadi, the Persian poet, he was walking about the\nvillage with his eyebrows blackened with antimony and a gold-braided\nturban on his head, and danced in the malik's chauk while the village\ndum played a rebab. Mullah Darweza would dearly have liked the luxury\nof stabbing the malik himself some dark night, but his profession\nhad to be considered, and what would become of his reputation for\nsanctity if the story got about, let alone the danger of retaliation,\nwhich would mean that he would be a prisoner in his house after dark,\nand would not be able to go to the mosque to say the night prayers,\neven if he had not to leave the village altogether?\n\nThe Mullah was leading prayers in the mosque that day when his eye\nfell on Chikki among the worshippers, and as they were leaving the\nmosque he whispered to him to come to his house that night after the\nnight prayers had been said. What passed there is known only to those\ntwo, but Chikki bore away a bag of rupees, and a few nights later,\nas the malik had gone down to a stream to perform his ablutions\nbefore evening prayers, a shot rung out from no one knows where,\nand the malik, without a cry, fell forward into the stream, and when\nthe villagers arrived and picked him up they found he had been shot\nthrough the heart, and no one ever knew who had done it. This windfall\nwhetted Chikki's appetite, and he soon found this occupation even\nmore lucrative than that of cattle lifting.\n\nAs his fame increased, secret commissions came to him from many\nquarters--from men who had life enemies, but who feared to risk their\nown lives in ridding themselves of them. With success, however, came\ndanger. Chikki was a marked man, and had to take unusually strict\nprecautions for the preservation of his own life; his repeating rifle\nwas never out of his hand, and no one ever saw him off his guard. He\nbuilt himself a strong tower, and at night-time retired into this by\nmeans of a rope ladder to the upper window (it had no lower windows),\nthen, drawing up the ladder after him, he secured the window. Then\ncame the opportunity of his life. There were two factions in the\ntribe, the Gur and the Samil, and these had been on bad terms for a\nlong time, but hostilities had so far been confined to a few murders\nand thefts. Then one day a prominent malik of the Gur faction was\nshot while on a visit to a Samil village. This could not be atoned\nfor without war, and within twenty-four hours the tocsin of war was\nbeating in every Gur village all over the hills. The Samil replied by\nburning a Gur village, and soon the whole mountain-side was in arms on\none side or the other; desultory warfare was carried on for some time,\nand much blood had been shed on both sides, but the Samil party lacked\na leader. Then they bethought them of Chikki, and sent a deputation,\nasking him to take their lead. He consented on condition of their\nrecognizing him as paramount chief of the Zaimukhts in the event of\nsuccess attending his arms. They agreed, and he, collecting together\nsome other soldiers of fortune who had thrown in their lot with him,\ntook the field against the Gur faction. The latter were defeated\nin several engagements, and finally both sides tired of the fray,\nand they were all the more ready to come to terms as the harvest was\nripe and would spoil if not rapidly gathered in.\n\nBoth sides agreed to call a jirgah, which met, drew up conditions\nof peace acceptable to both sides, and smoked the pipe of peace. The\nagreement was ratified by a big feast, in which twenty fat dumbas were\nslain and cooked, with immeasurable quantities of ghi, and a dance,\nin which the men of the two sides, which had so recently been moving\nheaven and earth to shoot each other, danced together as though they\nhad never been anything but the greatest of friends all their lives.\n\nChikki was now at the zenith of his power. Eight thousand riflemen, all\narmed with weapons of precision and all good shots, obeyed his call,\nand he was able to build a strong fort at Chinarak, in the Zaimukht\nMountains, which he garrisoned with his bodyguard of outlaws, while\nacres of rich land all round brought him supplies of grain and other\nproduce, which enabled him to offer to all who came that open-handed,\nunstinting hospitality which is the surest path to popularity in\nAfghanistan. Yet withal he maintained his simple mode of life and\nplain hillman's costume; and once when he came down into Sadda, a\ntown in British territory, to meet the great Political Officer there,\nhe formed a marked contrast to the gay clothes and coloured shawls\nand gold-banded turbans of the Sahib's satellites. He wore simply\nshirt and trousers of plain homespun, and a black turban, ornamented\nonly by a fringe with a few beads on, and had on his feet a pair of\npalm-leaf sandals, such as could be bought in any bazaar for the sum\nof one anna. But his rifle was the best there, and the well-filled\ncartridge-belt and the six-chambered revolver buckled on excited the\nenvy of many a man round him, while the firm tread and the thick-set\nframe and the determined features displayed the commanding and reckless\ncharacter of the man. Yet in society that he cared for he would unbend\nand display a boisterous good-humour, though of a kind which would make\na jest of acts of cruelty involving human suffering and even death.\n\nAs may be supposed, Chikki had many enemies who were seeking his life,\nand he would not allow anyone not known to him to approach him at\nnight or even in the day, and rarely had his fingers off his revolver\nor the trigger of his rifle. Once he was being shaved by his barber\nwhen the foolish man said to him: \"Muhammad Anim\" (one of Chikki's\nsworn enemies) \"offered me five hundred rupees the other day if,\nwhile I was shaving you, I should slip the razor and cut your throat;\nbut Ma'uzbillah! I seek refuge in God; I am your sacrifice, and refused\nthe son of a pig.\" Chikki said nothing then, but when the shaving was\nover he whipped out his revolver, and said to the luckless barber:\n\"You refused this time, but next time the temptation may be too great\nfor you, so I had better be first in.\" The tongue of that barber wagged\nno more, and Chikki got a new and probably more discreet practitioner.\n\nIt fell on a day that there was illness in Chikki's household, and\nsomeone brought him word that the Bannu doctor was in camp not far\noff at Thal; so it came about that while I was seeing patients by\nmy tent that afternoon four of Chikki's stalwarts, armed cap-\u00e0-pie,\nappeared with a polite and urgent request that I would accompany them\nback to his stronghold, Chinarak, and use my medical skill on the sick\nones. As soon as the day's work was over we started off. There was a\nthunderstorm on the mountains above us, and a mountain-torrent had\nto be crossed which would not be fordable in flood, so we urged on\nto a point whence a view could be got of the river-bed. On reaching\nit we saw the turbid waters of the flood sweeping down about a mile\nhigher up the valley from the place where we had to cross, while we\nhad considerably over a mile of rough ground to traverse before we\ncould reach the ford. All pressed forward, the footmen running at\nthe horses' stirrups, and we just managed to get through the rising\nstream before the flood reached us, thus saving what would have been\nsome hours of waiting for the flood to subside.\n\nChinarak is a mud fort, with towers and an intricate maze of yards,\nhouses, and passages within; but its strength lies more in its\ninaccessibility, for the narrow gorge, with high, overhanging cliffs,\nby which we approached might easily be defended by a few marksmen. On\nthe north side, however, the approach to it is easier. After the\nsick had been seen, Chikki informed me that, as he had heard that I\nwas a preacher of the Injil, he wished to hear me, so that he might\njudge of the comparative merits of Christianity and Muhammadanism;\nand to that purpose he had called his Mullah, and we two should sit\non either side and speak in turn, while he judged. His men collected\nround us, truly a motley crew, nearly all of them men who had fled\nacross the border from British justice for some murder or other\ncrime, and had found congenial employment in his bodyguard. I had\njust been visiting some of their houses professionally, and found\nrepresentatives of all the tribes down the frontier, and even a few\nHindustanis. There they were, with a devil-may-care look in their\ntruculent faces, which made you feel that they would take half a\ndozen lives, to rob a cottage, with as little compunction as if\nthey were cutting sugar-cane. Perhaps Chikki thought I was eyeing\nmy congregation suspiciously, for he turned to me with a twinkle,\nand said: \"Do not alarm yourself about all these fellows round. They\nmay be all rascals, no doubt; but I have my Martini-Henry here, and if\nanyone molests you, I will send a bullet through him.\" No doubt with\na good aim, too, for he was reputed the best marksman in the tribe,\na fact which I may illustrate by an anecdote.\n\nLike most Afghans, he was very punctilious in the performance of the\nprescribed Muhammadan prayers, and beyond the regular five times\nused to indulge in those prayers of supererogation which Muhammad\nappointed for the devout, or for those who had sins which might\nbe expiated by their performance. Chikki, too, appeared to believe\nthat he kept a credit and debit account of this kind, and that some\nparticularly unwarranted murder would be suitably balanced by the\nrepetition of a number of extra prayers. He had a little book of\nArabic prayers called the \"Ganj-el-Arus\" hung round his neck, and,\nwhen at leisure from his more warlike pursuits, would employ himself\nin the repletion of his credit account therefrom. He handed the book\nto me, and showed me with some little pride a prayer in it which he\nsaid he had composed himself, and which he said was always heard. It\nwas in his own vernacular Pashtu, for he did not know Arabic; and the\nprayer was that, whenever he raised his rifle to his shoulder to shoot,\nthe bullet might not miss its mark.\n\nBefore I came away I left some Pashtu Testaments and other literature\nwith Chikki, and I have reason to believe that he studied them with\ninterest. He, at least, gave up some of his predatory and warlike\nhabits, and devoted himself to more peaceful avocations. When the\nfrontier war of 1897 broke out, not long after, and the tribes all\nround him were flocking round the standards of jehad, and the tocsin\nof war resounded from the valleys of Swat in the north to the Suliman\nMountains of Waziristan in the south, he resisted all the allurements\nof the Mullahs to take part in the campaign against the Kafirs, the\nEnglish, and restrained the men of his own tribe from any participation\nin the warfare. It can be seen by a reference to the map that this\nabstention of the Zaimukht tribe, which numbers about eight thousand\nfighting men, made a considerable difference to the troops acting\nin the Miranzai and Kurram Valleys, in the angle between which their\nterritory is situate.\n\nHe pressed me to begin medical mission work in his own territory,\nand promised me support, both material and influential, if I would do\nso. It was a tempting field, and, no doubt, it would have exerted a\nwidespread influence for peace on the neighbourhood; but there were\ninsurmountable difficulties of another nature, and the project had\nto be abandoned.\n\nA few years ago I heard with regret that my old friend Chikki had\nbeen ambuscaded by a section of the Khujjal Khel Wazirs, with whom\nhe had an old-standing quarrel. He and the men with him fell riddled\nwith bullets, and the victors exultingly cut out his heart and bore\nit off in triumph, boasting that it weighed ten seers (twenty pounds).\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nROUGH DIAMONDS\n\n    A novel inquirer--Attends the bazaar preaching--Attacked\n    by his countrymen--In the police-station--Before the\n    English magistrate--Declares he is a Christian--Arrival\n    of his mother--Tied up in his village--Escape--Takes\n    refuge in the hills--A murder case--Circumstantial\n    evidence--Condemned--A last struggle for liberty--Qazi Abdul\n    Karim--His origin--Eccentricities--Enthusiasm--Crosses the\n    frontier--Captured--Confesses his faith--Torture--Martyrdom.\n\n\nI will recount shortly in this chapter the stories of two Afghan\nconverts, to show what strange cases we have to deal with, and how\ndifficult it is to discover the motives at work, even if we ever do\ndiscover them.\n\nSeronai was one of the Marwat clan of Pathans, which inhabits the\nsouthern part of the Bannu district.\n\nOne afternoon in the year 1899 I had been conducting the open-air\npreaching in the Bannu bazaar, and was returning home, when I noticed\nthat I was being followed by a stalwart Afghan, over six feet high\nand broad in proportion. I had noticed him among the crowd at the\npreaching, as he was quite the biggest man there.\n\n\"What is it I can do for you?\" I said to him.\n\n\"I am going to join your religion,\" was the reply.\n\nI took him home, found that he was a farmer in a small way, possessed a\nfew acres of land in a very criminal village right at the base of the\nfrontier hills, could not read or write, and knew very little indeed\nof the Muhammadan religion beyond the prayers. Yet when I asked him,\n\"Why do you wish to join our religion?\" the only answer I could obtain\nwas, \"Because it is my wish.\"\n\n\"But you do not know anything about either religion.\"\n\n\"You can teach me; I will learn.\"\n\nSo importunate a pupil it was impossible to refuse. He was willing\nenough to learn, but proved very slow of comprehension. It is our\nrule not to let inquirers idle away their time, but to give them\nwork, whereby they may at least prove that they do not intend to\nbecome burdens on the mission. Seronai was willing enough to work,\nand had the appetite of an ox; but, unless watched, his strength\nwas far in excess of his discrimination. Given a field to dig up,\nand he dug up the flower-beds round, too. Given a tree to cut down,\nand he brought it down quick enough, crashing through a verandah, till\nfinally we found that if we kept him at all it was most economical\nnot to let him do anything.\n\nAbout his zeal there was no doubt. Not only did he attend all the\nChristian services, but insisted on accompanying us to the bazaar\npreaching, and letting all and sundry know that he intended to--in\nfact, had already--become a Christian. This naturally roused the ire\nof the people in the bazaar, and when one day there were some of his\nfellow-countrymen in the audience, I could see that they meant ill,\nthough, from Seronai's great size and strength, they would no doubt\nbe careful in their tactics. The next day, the bazaar preaching\nbeing over, Seronai returned towards the mission, while I stopped\nbehind a few moments conversing with a questioner in the crowd. I had\ngone a little way up the street when I saw an excited mob and heard\nmuch shouting, and out of the crowd burst Seronai, tearing himself\naway from his captors with clothes torn, turban off, and his long\nlocks dishevelled about his face. He ran towards me, calling out,\n\"Save me from these men!\"\n\nIt did not seem likely when he had been unable to save\nhimself. However, I did my best to enable him to escape, but we were at\nonce surrounded by the crowd, and though no violence was intentionally\ndone to me, Seronai was torn away and mercilessly beaten. Before long,\nhowever, the police appeared and dispersed the crowd, and marched\noff Seronai to the lock-up. As that seemed the safest place for the\ntime being, I told him to keep up his spirits, and that the next day\narrangements would be made for him.\n\nThe next day he was brought before the civil officer of the district,\nwho also called for the chief man of the section of the tribe which\nhad been creating the disturbance the day before. Seronai was then\nasked whether he wished to be a Muhammadan or Christian.\n\n\"I wish to become a Christian and to remain with the Padre Sahib,\"\nhe said decidedly.\n\n\"Very well, you shall,\" said the officer, and told the chief to\nexplain to his people that they must not resort to further violence.\n\nThe next week an old lady in a great state of excitement appeared\nin the mission compound. With her was a lad of about fourteen\nsummers. They were Seronai's mother and younger brother. She had been\ntold that her son had become a Hindu. As to what a Christian was,\nshe had no idea. She had never heard of such a thing. All she knew was\nthat her son had disgraced her, and when Seronai came she wept on him,\nand called him reproachful names, and caressed him, all in turns and\nall together. Seronai was very quiet, and he was genuinely sorry for\nthe old lady's trouble, and came to me and said: \"I must go back to my\nvillage with my mother to comfort her, and then I will return to you.\"\n\nIt was about a week later. We were sitting in church at evening\nservice, when in came Seronai, looking very hot and dishevelled. He\nsaid that the people in his village had seized him, and tied him down\nto a bed, and set a guard over him night and day. It was impossible\nto escape till one day a raiding party of Wazirs came down suddenly\non the village grazing grounds and carried off about twenty camels. A\nchigah was sounded, and all the able-bodied men of the village started\noff in pursuit. His mother came and untied him, and he had escaped to\nus, doing the forty-five miles that lay between his village and the\nmission without a stop. Seronai's condition pointed to the truth of\nhis story, which was, indeed, a very credible one. We heard afterwards\nthat the camel raid had taken place in the way he related.\n\nSeronai went on now learning about the Christian religion, but making\nvery little visible progress. He was zealous, and did not for a moment\ntry to avoid persecution by hiding his light--in fact, he seemed to\ndelight in courting it. Some suggested that he was becoming a Christian\nin order to spite some relation. This does occasionally happen; but\nthere were no grounds for supposing it to be the case here. Others\nsuggested that he had made a bet that he would become one, but this\nwould hardly account for his carrying the r\u00f4le so far at such great\npersonal suffering. In short, though his spiritual aspirations were\nnot, as far as we could see, sufficient to account for it, we were\nquite at a loss to find any other satisfactory explanation.\n\nAbout a month later he disappeared once again, and then I did not\nhear of him for two years. At the end of that time, I was seated\none day in school teaching one of the classes, when I got a message\nfrom the head of the gaol saying there was a prisoner who professed\nto be a Christian, and desired to see me. On responding to the call,\nimagine my surprise to find Seronai. He said that on leaving us he had\nintended to work his land, but, owing to the enmity of the people,\nhad been obliged to seek refuge in the mountains, where a certain\nmalik had befriended him and given him shelter. He had remained there\ntill a few weeks back, when he wished to pay a visit to his mother and\nhis village. On arrival there, he found that a tragedy had just been\nenacted. He had a sister there married to a farmer in the village;\nthis lady had accepted the advances of another swain from the next\nvillage, and had prepared to elope with him. They had, however, been\nfrustrated in their intentions, for the corpses of the two had been\nfound--the woman shot through the head, her lover through the heart.\n\nSuspicion would most naturally fall on the husband, but the arrival\nof Seronai at this moment suggested an alternative: the people of\nthe village would be glad to get an apostate, such as they considered\nhim to be, into trouble; circumstantial evidence was not difficult to\narrange, and witnesses in support might be had for the asking. Besides,\nby making a scapegoat of Seronai, the rest of the village would\nescape the harrying of the police myrmidons, who might otherwise\nsettle on their village like a swarm of locusts, for no one knew how\nlong. Thus it came about that Seronai was in gaol on the charge of\ndouble murder. It was not much that I could do for him beyond giving\nhim the consolations of religion; circumstantial evidence was very\nblack against him, and it was not a matter of surprise when the judge\nfound him guilty and awarded him the extreme penalty of hanging.\n\nTwo days yet remained to the carrying out of the sentence, when there\nwas a great uproar in the gaol. Seronai and another prisoner, also\nunder sentence of death, had broken loose from cells, but, unable to\nscale the outer wall of the prison, had clambered on to the roof of\none of the buildings, from which they bade defiance to all who ventured\nnear. They tore up the cornice, and if anyone came near he ran the risk\nof having his head smashed with a well-directed brick. This siege went\non for two and a half hours; the two defenders were so alert that if\na ladder was put up at one side while a feint was made at the other,\nthey ran from side to side, aiming bricks at anyone within reach. This\ncould not be allowed to go on, so the superintendent of police made the\nguard fall in with loaded rifles, and then took out his watch, and,\naddressing the two men, told them that if they did not surrender in\nfour minutes the guard would fire. There was breathless suspense among\nthe spectators, who by this time numbered several hundreds, as the\nminutes passed and the men were still defiant. Half a minute remained\nwhen the two men surrendered to the guard, and were marched back to\nthe cells. Two days later the extreme penalty of the law was enforced.\n\nQazi Abdul Karim was altogether a different type of man to Seronai;\nhe came of a good Afghan family and was a very learned man, being,\nas his name denotes, a Qazi, or one entitled to adjudicate Muhammadan\nlaw. He was well versed in the Quran, the Hadis, and Muhammadan\ntheology and literature, and held a position of honour in the towns\nof Quetta and Kandahar. He was a man of property, too, so that no\none could taunt him with having become a Christian for the sake\nof bread. He was converted many years ago at Quetta, where he was\nbaptized by the medical missionary, Dr. Sutton; he passed through\nmany dangers and privations, but I go on at once to speak of my first\nacquaintance with him at Bannu. He had worked for a time at most of\nthe frontier mission stations, but did not seem able to settle down\nanywhere. The Missionary Society requires those who desire to become\nits recognized agents to pass certain examinations, and examinations\nwere not in his line, and he would not present himself for one; thus\nhe never became a recognized agent of the Society. He had a repugnance\nto doing work in the hospital wards, so it was difficult to know how\nhe was to gain his support. His habits, too, were rather expensive,\nas he had been accustomed to entertain freely in his Muhammadan days,\nand could not realize that he must not ask all and any into meals when\nhe had not the wherewithal to pay for them. He had given up almost\neverything to become a Christian, and he could not understand why\nthe Society would not support him to work on his own lines, without\nthe trammels of rules and regulations.\n\nHe was very sensitive in his nature, and ready to think that he was\nbeing slighted or not wanted, so he seldom stopped long in any one\nstation. He did not get on well, as a rule, with the other native\nChristians, and often imagined that schemes were being laid for\npoisoning his food. This led to bickerings, which the missionary\noften had trouble in allaying. Thus, notwithstanding his great gifts,\nAbdul Karim was not a persona grata in any of the missions, and the\nmissionary was often glad when he realized that he had outstayed\nhis welcome and passed on to another station. Yet, though certainly\nnot popular with the native Christians, they all admired him for\nthe troubles he had undergone for the sake of Christ, and for his\npluck in confessing his faith before all audiences, and regardless of\nconsequences. The last time he visited Bannu he had been undergoing\ngreat hardships in a voluntary tramp through the country, literally\n\"despised and rejected of men,\" because of his uncompromising advocacy\nof Christianity. He was worn quite thin, and looked so haggard that\nI did not at first recognize him, and his clothes were reduced to\na few rags. We fed him up and got him some new clothes; but even\nthen he could not rid himself of the idea that some people were\ntrying to poison him. This gave rise to the report that he was mad,\nand certainly his eccentricity in this respect was sufficient to give\ncolour to the report. I feel sure, however--and I knew him well--that\nhis devotion to Christ was very real, and amounted to a real passion\nto suffer for His sake.\n\nIn the summer of 1907 he was taken with an intense desire to enter\nAfghanistan, and preach the Gospel there. He crossed over the\nfrontier at Chaman, and was seized by some Afghan soldiers. These\nfinally brought him before the Governor of Kandahar. He was offered\nrewards and honours if he would recant and accept Muhammadanism, and,\nwhen he refused, he was cast into prison loaded with eighty pounds\nof chains. He was examined by H. M. the Amir and the Amir's brother,\nNasirullah, but remained firm in his confession of Christianity.\n\nFinally, he was marched off to Kabul under very painful conditions. As\nfar as could be gathered from the reports that filtered down to\nIndia, he had to walk loaded with chains and with a bit and bridle\nin his mouth from Kandahar to Kabul, while any Muhammadan who met\nhim on the way was to smite him on the cheek and pull a hair from\nhis beard. After reaching Kabul, it was reported that he died in\nprison there; but another report, which purported to be that of an\neyewitness, and seemed worthy of credence, related that he had been\nset at liberty in Kabul, and had set out alone for India.\n\nOn the way the people in a village where he was resting found out who\nhe was--probably one of them had heard him preaching in India--and\nthey carried him off to their mosque to force him to repeat the\nMuhammadan Kalimah, \"There is no God but God, and Muhammad is the\nProphet of God.\" This is the accepted formula of accepting Islam,\nand if a convert can be persuaded to say this publicly, it is regarded\nas his recantation.\n\nAbdul Karim refused. A sword was then produced, and his right arm cut\noff, and he was again ordered to repeat it, but again refused. The left\narm was then severed in the same way, and, on his refusing the third\ntime, his throat was cut. There is no doubt that, whatever the details\nof his martyrdom may be, Abdul Karim witnessed faithfully up to the\nlast for his Saviour Christ, and died because he would not deny Him.\n\nThere are many secret disciples in Afghanistan who honour Christ\nas we do, and make His teachings their daily guide, but are not yet\nprepared to follow Him even to the death; and there is no doubt that,\nat the present time, a public acknowledgment of Christianity would\nmean death, and probably a cruel death. At the same time, I believe\nthat the Church in Afghanistan will not be established till there have\nbeen many such martyrs, who will seal their faith with their blood.\n\nWhen the news of the death of Abdul Karim reached Bannu, more than\none of our Afghan Christians offered to go over into Afghanistan and\ntake his place as herald of the Cross, and bear the consequences,\nbut I pointed out to them that the time was not yet.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nDEDUCTIONS\n\n    Number of converts not a reliable estimate of mission\n    work--Spurious converts versus Indigenous Christianity--Latitude\n    should be allowed to the Indian Church--We should introduce Christ\n    to India rather than Occidental Christianity--Christianizing sects\n    among Hindus and Muhammadans--Missionary work not restricted\n    to missionaries--Influence of the best of Hindu and Muhammadan\n    thought should be welcomed--The conversion of the nation requires\n    our attention more than that of the individual--Christian Friars\n    adapted to modern missions--A true representation of Christ to\n    India--Misconceptions that must be removed.\n\n\nI have completed these sketches of mission work, and I wish to\nsummarize in this chapter some of the conclusions that I have been led\nto draw from the experiences of the last sixteen years, and then in a\nconcluding chapter to point out what I think to be the most promising\nlines of advance.\n\nIt has too long been the habit to gauge the results of mission work\nby the number of converts or baptisms, but this is wrong both by\nomission and by commission: by omission, because it takes no count of\nwhat is the larger portion of mission work--the gradual permeation of\nthe country with the teachings and example of Christ; by commission,\nbecause it encourages missionaries to baptize and register numbers,\nchiefly of the lower classes, who have no right to it, because they\ncome from egregiously unworthy motives. Such converts not only are a\ndead weight on the mission to which they are attached, but too often\nutterly discredit Christianity in the eyes of the non-Christians\naround them by their greed and unworthy conduct. It is well that we\nshould sometimes stop and think what it is that we are desirous of\ndoing, and then face the question: \"Are we really accomplishing that,\nor doing something altogether different?\"\n\nAre we desirous of planting in India a Christian Church on the lines\nwhich we see developed in England or America? If so, I sincerely hope\nthat we shall never succeed. Are we desirous of binding on Eastern\nconverts the same burden of dogmas which has disrupted and still\ndistresses the Western Church? Again, I sincerely hope not. Are we\ndesirous of giving India the life and teaching of our Lord Jesus\nChrist, and of living Him before the people? There we have a worthy\nobject--to compass which no sacrifice is too great--worthy of the\nbest and most devoted of our men and women, and claiming the spiritual\nand material support of the whole Western Church.\n\nNow, it is quite possible--in fact, we have seen it enacted before\nour eyes--that, having given India Christ and the Bible, India's sons\nand sages may not interpret everything as we have done, but may do\nso in their own mystical and transcendental way. We may not always\nbe able to admit such by baptism into the fold of the Christian\nChurch--they may not themselves desire it--but are we to say that\nour mission has not been accomplished? Accomplished it assuredly has\nbeen, but perhaps not on the lines which we desired or imagined. If,\nagain, after studying the life and words of Christ, and comparing\nthem with the Christianity which they see practised in the West,\nor in the Westerns who reside among them, they are not drawn to\nWestern Christianity while yet having a devotion to Christ; if they\ndo not feel they can consistently join any of our Western Churches;\nand if they form a Church of India, are we then to be disappointed\nand think we have failed of our mission? A thousand times, no! Let\nus rather praise God that, instead of a number of hothouse plants\nrequiring careful watering and tending lest they sicken and wither,\nwe have a harvest of indigenous growth nurtured on the native soil of\nIndia, and ripening to a fruitful maturity under its own sun, and fed\nby the natural showers of heaven without the aid of the missionaries\nof a foreign clime.\n\nWe see, therefore, that the gathering in of converts is not the first\nor most important work of the missionary. His work is rather, first,\nto live Christ before the people of the country; secondly, to give\nthem the teachings of Christ by giving them the Scriptures in their\nown tongue, and preaching and explaining the same to them. We often\nfind in practice that when some Indian has been captivated by the\nGospel, he is hurried on to baptism, and thereby cut off prematurely\nfrom his old stock and grafted on the new--prematurely because he is\noften insufficiently grounded in the Christian faith to withstand the\ntorrent of persecution which is his lot the moment he is baptized, and\nbecause the leavening influence which he would otherwise be exerting on\na wide circle of his relations and acquaintances is at once destroyed.\n\nChristians at home encourage the missionary to think that nothing\nhas been accomplished till the inquirer is baptized, and that, once\nbaptized and recorded in the church register and the mission report,\nthe work, as far as that individual is concerned, is completed,\nand the missionary may leave him and turn his attention to someone\nelse. Fatal mistake! Injurious to the convert because, left only half\ngrounded in the faith, he falls into worldly and covetous habits, or\nmay even apostatize outright; injurious to the unevangelized remainder\nbecause, instead of being attracted for a time longer to the study of\nChristianity by the influence of the inquirer, they are thrown into\na position of violent antagonism by the secession of the convert, and\nare no longer willing to give the claims of Christ any hearing at all.\n\nHerein lies the inestimable value of the much-maligned mission schools\nand colleges. They do not produce a great crop of immediate baptisms,\nand so are belittled by some as barren agencies; but nothing else is\nmore surely permeating the great mass of Muhammadan and Hindu thought\nwith Christian thoughts, Christian ideals, and Christian aspirations.\n\nWe see all around us in present-day India attempts to reclothe Islam\nand Hinduism in Christian habiliments, or else ardent reformers,\nhopeless of that Augean task, creating new little sects and offshoots,\nin which Christian ideas are served up for Muhammadan and Hindu\nconsumers thinly disguised in a dressing of their own religions. These\nsects sometimes affect a display of hostility to Christianity,\nlest those whom they wish to draw should mistake them for being only\nmissionary ruses for catching them with guile; but, all the same, they\nare steps, and I think inevitable steps, in the gradual permeation of\nthe country with the religion of Christ. India has been surfeited with\nphilosophies and dogmas and rites and ceremonies from the hoary Vedic\nages down, but she is hungering and thirsting for a living power to\ndraw her God-ward, and such a power is Christ. She cannot have too\nmuch of Him, whether this life be set forth in the devoted service\nof Christian men and women, in hospitals, and schools, and zenanas,\nand plague camps, and leper asylums, or in the daily preaching and\nteaching of Him in town and village, in the crowded bazaars, or in\nthe hermitages of the sadhus and faqirs.\n\nThis is not a work restricted to those who have been set apart\nas missionaries, but one which claims every professed Christian\nin the land. Every European Christian, be he in civil or military\nservice, in trade or profession, or merely a temporary visitant for\npleasure-seeking, can and should be doing this essentially Christian\nmissionary work if he is living honestly and purely up to the tenets\nof his religion; and many of the best converts in the land have been\nfirst drawn to Christ by watching the consistent private and public\nChristian life of some such unobtrusive Englishman or Englishwoman, who\nnever was or tried to be a missionary in the usual sense of the term.\n\nOn the other hand, the Christianizing of the country has been made\nall the more remote and difficult by those Englishmen who contemn\nor discredit the religion they profess, or live lives openly and\nflagrantly at variance with its ethics.\n\nWe do not gain anything from a missionary point of view, and we\ndishonour God, when we speak of everything in Islam or Hinduism as\nevil. The Mussulman has given a witness to the Unity of God and the\nfolly of idolatry which has been unsurpassed in the religious history\nof the world, and he has qualities of devotion and self-abnegation\nwhich the Christian Church may well desire to enlist in her service\nrather than to ignore or decry. The Hindu has evolved philosophies\non the enigmas of life, and sin, and pain, and death, which have for\nages been the solace and guide of the myriad inhabitants of India,\nand he has attained heights of self-abnegation and austerity in the\npursuit of his religious ideals which would have made the Christian\nascetics of the early centuries of our era envious. Religion has been\nto them a pervading force which has coloured the most commonplace acts\nof daily life. Here we have qualities which have prepared the soil\nfor the implanting of the Christian faith, and which, when imbued\nand enlightened with the love of Christ, will reach a luxuriance\nof Christian energy worthy of the religious East, in which so many\nof the religions of the world have had their birth. India, indeed,\nwants Christ, but the future Christianity of India will not be that\nOccidental form which we have been accustomed to, but something that\nwill have incorporated all the best God-given qualities and capacities\nand thoughts of the Muhammadans and Hindus.\n\nIt is a great pity that missionary energy is still largely\ndestructive rather than constructive. In the earlier days of mission\nwork it was popularly supposed that missionaries were to attack the\ncitadels of Islam and Hinduism, which were considered to be the great\nobstacles to the acceptance of Christianity by the people of India,\nand it was thought that, those once overthrown, we should find a\nChristian country. Much more probably we should find an atheistic and\nmaterialistic India, in which Mammon, Wealth, Industrial Success,\nand Worldliness had become the new gods. The real and most deadly\nenemies with which the missionary has to contend are infidelity and\nmammon worship. We may well try to enlist the religious spirit of all\nthe Indian creeds in the struggle against these, the common enemies\nof all faiths, or we may find, when too late, that we have destroyed\nthe fabric of faith, and set up nothing in its place. The old Islam,\nthe old Hinduism, are already doomed, not by the efforts of the\nmissionaries, but by the contact with the West, by the growth of\ncommerce, by the spread of education, by the thirst for wealth and\nluxury which the West has implanted in the East. All the power of\nChristianity is required to give India a new and living and robust\nfaith, which shall be able to withstand these disrupting forces.\n\nSome of the Christian attacks on Eastern religions are painful to read,\nbecause one cannot help seeing that the same weapons have been used\nin the West, and often with success, against belief in the Christian\nScriptures, and the missionaries are only preparing tools which will\none day be used against themselves. They may for the moment win a\nPyrrhic victory against the forces of Islam and Hinduism, but they are\nat the same time undermining the religious spirit, the ardent faith,\nthe unquestioning devotion, which have been the crown and glory of\nIndia for ages. Let it rather be their endeavour to present a real,\nliving, pulsating Christianity, capable of enlisting all these divine\nforces in its own service without weakening or destroying one of them,\nand all that is best in Islam and Hinduism will be drawn into it. The\nproduct will be nearer to the mind of Christ than much that passes by\nthe name of Christianity in the West, yet has lost the power of the\nliving Christ. Do not destroy, but give something worthy of acceptance,\nand be careful of the type.\n\nConverts will come right enough when we work on these lines, but they\nwill not so often be the man-made converts which have been drawn by\nthe outward attractions which missions sometimes offer. They will\nmore often be those who have been drawn of the Spirit, and become\nconverts in spite of us and our little faith. And they will inherit\nthe blessing of Isaac as assuredly as the first class partake of the\nwaywardness of Ishmael.\n\nThe East has long possessed and developed in a myriad different ways\nthe idea of sacrifice, while the more practical West has been tending\nmore and more towards a philanthropic Christianity which makes a life\nof service its ideal. The best will be when we bring about a union\nof the religious devotion of the East with the altruism of the West.\n\nSo far the asceticism and devotion of the Orient has been rendered\nnugatory and disappointing by its uselessness--by, if we may use a\nparadoxical expression, its very selfishness--for it was directed to\nthe emancipation of the individual soul rather than to the salvation\nof the race. But when the sacrifice of the Orient and the service\nof the Occident join hands and go forth in the name of Christ to\nmitigate and remove the ills and sorrows of this sad, sad world,\nthen indeed will the spirit of Christ be fulfilled in His Church.\n\nA recent writer, whose missionary enthusiasm had caught a spark from\nthe mystic fires of the East, writes: \"The thing which is lacking (in\nmission work) I believe to be the vision of the homeless, suffering,\nserving Jesus--the Jesus who came to serve, and laid down His life for\nthe sheep.\" [3] He then goes on to enunciate the need for Christian\nFriars, who may bring a knowledge of Christ to India in the only way\nto which her people have ever been accustomed. From time immemorial\nall the religions that have occupied the arena of the Indian stage,\nand compelled the adherence and devotion of her people, have been\npromulgated by peripatetic ascetics, who have shown by their devotion\nto their ideals the intensity of their convictions, and have not\nwearied of journeying from end to end of the land, through heat and\nthrough cold, through privations and hunger and nakedness, that they\nmight make known to the people how they were to obtain salvation.\n\nThe Friars suggested by the above writer would therefore be such as\nIndia is already familiar with, and would work on a prepared soil. He\nwrites: \"The part of the Friars is to live Christ so literally before\nthe Church and the world, that both may become conscious of Him. The\nChurch is lacking in ideal and devotion; the Friars must, therefore,\nlead lives of such heroism and devoted service in the face of every\ndanger that the Church may be fired by their example.... If such a\nbody of men were to act in this way, none would be so quick to cast\nthemselves at the Master's feet as the people of India, and the high\ncastes would lead the way.\"\n\nBut it must be clearly understood that these Friars are not to\nreplace or render unnecessary any section of the existing missionary\nbody. Every one of the various activities of the present mission work\nis wanted, urgently wanted. They will, however, fire their energies,\nenlarge their scope, and increase their usefulness. Two misconceptions\nrequire to be removed from the Indian mind. One is, that missionary\nactivity is a political activity, a department of the Government\nartfully disguised. The other is, that the English are, after all,\nonly lukewarm about their religion, and do not hesitate to disregard\nit if it clashes with their comfort or interest. To combat these\nideas it is the lives of the missionaries that are of more importance\nthan the organization, and the more Christ is lived and exemplified,\nthe more spiritual and lasting will be the result.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\nA FORWARD POLICY\n\n    Frontier medical missions--Their value as outposts--Ancient\n    Christianity in Central Asia--Kafiristan: a lost opportunity of\n    the Christian Church--Forcible conversion to Islam--Fields for\n    missionary enterprise beyond the North-West Frontier--The first\n    missionaries should be medical men--An example of the power of\n    a medical mission to overcome opposition--The need for branch\n    dispensaries--Scheme of advance--Needs.\n\n\nDown the North-West Frontier is the long line of mission outposts:\nSrinagar, Mardan, Peshawur, Karak, and Thal, in the Kohat district;\nBannu, Tank, Dera Isma\u00efl Khan, Dera Ghazi Khan, Quetta. All of these\ncomprise medical mission work as part of their activities. Several\nhave educational work as well. Yet we regard them as something more\nthan outposts: they are bases. The strength of the British military\nstations on that frontier is far in excess of the requirements of\ntheir immediate surroundings, because under conceivable conditions they\nhave to act as the bases of an army acting beyond them, or they might\nhave to stem the advance of an invading force. In a precisely similar\nway we must regard our frontier missions, not merely in relation to\ntheir environments, but as the means whereby we shall be able to go\nforward and evangelize the yet unoccupied lands to the west and the\nnorth. They should be sufficiently well equipped in both personnel\nand material, so that when need arises they might be able to supply\nthe men and means for occupying mission stations farther on.\n\nThe countries of Central Asia to the west and north of India are a\nchallenge and a reproach to the Christian Church--a reproach because\nin the early centuries of the Christian era the zeal of the first\nmissionaries carried the Gospel right across Turkestan and Tibet\nto China, and Christian Churches flourished from Asia Minor to\nMongolia. Dr. Stein, in his recent work, \"Buried Cities of Khotan,\"\ntells us how in those days there were fair towns and running streams\nand orchards, where now is only a sandy, waterless waste. The rains\nceased, the water channels dried up, the people had to leave their\ntowns and villages, and the sand was blown in and covered houses and\ntrees and everything deep in its drifting dunes, where they have been\nunvisited and forgotten till the present traveller unearthed them. A\nsimilar spiritual drought seems to have fallen on the Armenian and\nNestorian Churches of those parts, and, deadened and retrograde,\nthey were unable to withstand the great Muhammadan invasions of the\nsixth and succeeding centuries, which swept like tornadoes right\nacross Asia into China.\n\nIn again proclaiming the Gospel in Turkestan the Christian Church will\nonly be reoccupying her lost territories, where at one time Christian\ncongregations gathered in their churches, but for centuries only the\nMuhammadan call to prayer has been permitted to be heard.\n\nIt is a reproach, again, because on our North-West Frontier, only\nseparated from Chitral by a range of mountains, is the interesting land\nknown as Kafiristan. There is reason to believe that the inhabitants\nof this land, known as the Kafirs, are the descendants of some of\nthe Greeks whom Alexander of Macedon brought over in his train three\nhundred years before Christ. Two stories are current among the Kafirs\nregarding their origin, but both point to their arrival about the third\ncentury before Christ. One is that a number of Greeks, expelled from\nthe lowlands by the advance of surrounding and more powerful tribes,\ntook refuge in these mountain fastnesses; and the other is that they\nare the descendants of wounded soldiers left by Alexander the Great\nin the neighbouring region of Bajour. They still practised till a\nfew years ago pagan idolatrous rites, which had probably changed\nlittle for two thousand years, and they resisted the inroads of the\nMuhammadans, who were obliged to recoil before their inaccessible\nmountain fastnesses. They welcomed some Christian missionaries\nwho visited their valleys at different times in the last century,\nand there is every reason to believe that, had the Christian Church\naccepted the task, the whole of that nation would have adopted the\nChristian religion. But though these travellers urged on the Church\nher opportunity and her responsibility, no step was taken.\n\nColonel Wingate, a retired frontier officer, writes: [4] \"I had gone\nfor a stroll one day in the summer of 1895 with another officer for\na short distance outside the military camp. Though we were wearing\nthe uniform of officers, we were without arms, when suddenly we saw\na party of natives approaching. They were travelling at a rapid rate,\nand as they drew near we observed that they were armed with bows and\narrows and spears, each carrying a coloured blanket in a roll over\nthe shoulder, their food of dried meat and rice tied on to their\ngirdles. The whole party were warriors, as indicated by the rows of\nshells sewn on to the kilts worn round their waists. They proved to be\nan influential deputation from Kafiristan to the headquarters camp to\nobtain the assurance of the British nation that they would still enjoy\ntheir protection. From time to time, commencing with the mission of\nMajor Biddulph, interviews between headmen of the Kafiri tribes and\nofficers of the British Government had taken place, resulting in the\nbelief that the independence of Kafiristan would be preserved. But\nthe unexpected and ominous answer came over the field telegraph wires:\n'Tell them they are now the subjects of the Amir.' While waiting for\nthe answer I had some conversation with them. They were wonderfully\nbright and generous-hearted, and fond of a joke. When I asked them\nif they were ready to embrace the Christian religion, they replied:\n'We do not want to change the religion of our fathers; but if we must\nchange, then we would far rather become Christians than Muhammadans,\nbecause we should still be Kafirs,' alluding to the common application\nof this word by Muhammadans to all unbelievers.... The unsparing\nproselytism of Muhammadan conquest has done its worst. Hearths and\nhomes in their mountain fastnesses, which had been preserved inviolate\nfor one thousand years against the hated Mussulman foe, have been\nruthlessly invaded and spoiled. The bravest of their defenders have\nbeen forcibly made into Muhammadans, and the fairest of their daughters\nhave been torn from the arms of their natural protectors and carried\noff as new supplies for the harims of their conquerors.\" Another lost\nopportunity to add to the account of the Christian Church!\n\nBut there are lands now in that historic region \"where three empires\nmeet\" which may yet be occupied by the messengers of \"peace and\ngoodwill towards men.\" Is the Church going to rise to the present\nopportunities or let them, too, slip by?\n\nSwat, Chitral, Baltistan, Hunza, Astor, Chilas, are each of them\nthe home of a nation. Then the great historic cities of Bukhara,\nSamarcand, Tashkend, Merv, Kokan, Kashgar, have some of them been in\ntheir time the capitals of great kingdoms.\n\nIn some of these places there are already missionaries at work, most\nof them belonging to Swedish and German societies; but how utterly\ninadequate these few scattered workers are to the great problem\nwhich they have to face! What is needed at the present are medical\nmissions. A medical man would be welcomed by the people in all these\nplaces. The time for the preacher has yet to come. It would not be\nwise, even were it possible, to send up clerical missionaries and\nevangelists into these parts at present. But the doctor will find\nhis sphere everywhere, and will find his hands full of work as soon\nas he arrives. He will be able to overcome suspicion and prejudice,\nand his timely aid and sympathetic treatment will disarm opposition,\nand his life will be a better setting forth of Christianity than\nhis words. There is a door everywhere that can be opened by love and\nsympathy and practical service, and no one is more in a position to\nhave a key for every door than the doctor.\n\nI have already said much to show how powerful an agency medical\nwork is for overcoming prejudice, but I will cite one instance\nmore, where the doctor was the son of a convert of the very place\nwhere he was working, and had succeeded by his loving and skilful\nattentions in overcoming the opposition and much of the prejudice of\nthe people. The first branch dispensary in connection with the Bannu\nMedical Mission was opened at Shekh Mahmud in 1895. This is a large\nvillage near the Tahsil town of Isa Khel, on the right bank of the\nIndus River. About thirty-five years ago a landowner of this place was\nconverted to Christianity, and, together with his family, received into\nthe Christian Church. At first he passed through great vicissitudes:\nhis house was burnt over his head by his fellow-villagers, and he and\nhis family barely escaped with their lives. His enemies then tried\nto expatriate him by erasing his name from the village registers, and\nswearing in court that he was a stranger to the district. Eventually,\nhowever, their perjury was found out, and the court restored him\nhis lands and had a new house built for him in the place of the one\nthat had been burnt down. This man passed to his rest trusting in\nour Lord Jesus Christ, leaving three sons, who were all following\nin their father's footsteps, and have been privileged to see many of\ntheir former enemies brought to Christ themselves. The eldest son has\nalso died, but leaving two sons, of whom the elder has obtained the\nGovernment qualification of doctor, and is destined to take charge\nof the branch dispensary which we are about to open at Thal. The\nsecond and third sons have received a medical training in the mission\nhospital, and are both engaged in medical mission work--the second at\nthe Bannu Headquarters Hospital, and the youngest is in charge of a\nbranch dispensary built on the very land that his Muhammadan countrymen\ntried to wrest from his father. On the last occasion of my visiting\nthis branch, just before leaving India for my visit to England in 1908,\nthis young doctor--Fazl Khan by name--had made a dinner for the poor\nof the village, and nearly two hundred must have come to partake of\nhis hospitality. This custom of feeding the poor is often done in\nIndia by those undertaking a long journey or some other enterprise,\nso that the prayers of the poor may be a blessing on the work.\n\nWell, after all the guests had partaken, the Christian doctor offered\nprayers for my safe journey to England, and for the medical mission\nwork at Bannu and at Sheikh Mahmud, and after each petition all present\nraised the cry of \"Allah,\" being their way of saying \"Amen.\" Now,\nthese were the sons and relatives of the very men who had burnt the\nhouse of the Christian doctor's father, and tried to oust him from his\nlands. This is an example of what may be accomplished in a fanatical\nfrontier district through the agency of medical mission work carried\non by an Indian Christian.\n\nI am constantly getting requests from maliks (chiefs) of these\ntrans-frontier tribes to visit them in their mountain homes, and\nwhen I have accepted I have received a cordial welcome, and been well\ntreated, while I have had abundant opportunities of medical mission\nwork. There is great scope for the itinerant medical missionary among\nthem, but he requires a base to which he can send cases requiring\nsevere operations or ward treatment. Small branch dispensaries in\ncharge of Indian hospital assistants are of the greatest value, and\nthere are many suitable places for such along our Indian frontier. The\nadvantages of such dispensaries I believe to be as follows; (1) They\nexert an extraordinary Christianizing, civilizing, and pacifying\ninfluence on the tribes in their immediate vicinity. (2) They form\nsubsidiary bases for the medical missionary, not only enabling him\nto work up that particular district, but relieving the pressure on\nthe headquarters hospital. The assistant-in-charge sifts the cases\nthat come to him, tells some that their disease is irremediable,\nthereby saving them the expense and weariness of a long journey,\nand recommending others to go up to headquarters for operations. (3)\nThey form training-schools for our Indian helpers, whereby they are\nprepared for taking posts of even greater responsibility. This matter\nof efficient training of our Indian helpers is, I believe, a matter\nof paramount importance.\n\nMy hope is, then, in the near future to see a number of new centres\nof medical mission work opened in these hitherto almost untouched\nlands of Central Asia, and, associated with these centres, a number\nof village dispensaries for the more remote tracks. The central\nmissions would have a staff of at least two European medical men,\nand the branches would be in the charge of Indian assistants. There\nis no reason, however, why an Indian of sufficient qualifications\nand experience should not take the place of one of the European\nstaff when circumstances admit of it. The central hospital should\nbe well equipped in both out- and in-patient departments, and have\nsanitary wards accommodating from thirty to eighty in-patients. The\nbranches should also be able to take in from six to ten in-patients,\nas not only will the assistant in charge often get cases of urgency,\nwhich require immediate indoor treatment, and cannot be forwarded\nto the base hospital, but when the head medical missionary visits\nthese out-stations he will be glad to be able to accommodate a few\noperation cases which may be waiting for him there.\n\nThis scheme would not clash with Government medical aid, because in\nmost of these regions there are very few, if any, Government hospitals\nor dispensaries, and those places which already have sufficient\nGovernment medical aid might well be passed over in favour of the\nnumberless places that have none.\n\nHere is a grand field for young medical men who are anxious to\nconsecrate their abilities to the service of God and man. They are\nnot offered tempting salaries or honours, but they will have the\nsatisfaction of knowing that they are helping to lighten the burden of\nmankind where that burden was weighing most heavily, and to bring the\nlight and love of Christ into some of the darkest abodes of cruelty\nand superstition to be met with on the face of God's earth.\n\nThose who help this work with the gifts in money or kind, without\nwhich it would be impossible of execution can have the satisfaction of\nknowing that they are not only relieving bodily suffering which would\notherwise be unrelieved, and carrying the Evangel to those who have\nnever heard of it, but they are drawing nations together in bonds of\nservice and sympathy, and diminishing the danger of racial conflict\nand devastating war.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nGLOSSARY OF WORDS NOT GENERALLY USED OUTSIDE INDIA\n\n\nA.\n\nAhl-el-kit\u00e1b = the people of the Book: a term applied by Muhammadans to\nJews, and Christians whose Scriptures they accept as the Word of God.\n\n\nB.\n\nBanaprastha = the third stage of the life of a devout Hindu, when he\nretires from trade or office, and lives in some forest or jungle.\n\nBer = a tree, very common in Afghanist\u00e1n--Zisyphus jujuba and\nZ. vulgaris. Its fruit is largely eaten by the people.\n\nBhagti = devotion, faith. The Hindus contrast salvation by bhagti\nto that by karma, or works. Chaitanza and others were the apostles\nof bhagti.\n\nBh\u00e1sha = the script in which the Hindi language is usually written;\nthe language itself.\n\nBrahmach\u00e1ri = the first stage of the life of a devout Hindu, when he\nis a celibate student under some teacher or guru.\n\n\nC.\n\nCh\u00e1dar = a cotton or woollen shawl, used as a wrap in the day and a\nsheet by night.\n\nChap\u00e1ti = flat cakes of unleavened bread, cooked over a tauwa, or\nflat piece of iron.\n\nCh\u00e1rp\u00e1r = \"the four-legged,\" the plain native wooden bedstead.\n\nChauk = the room which the headman of a village sets apart for the\nuse of the public. Village business and gossip is carried on here,\nand travellers accommodated.\n\nChigah = an alarm, sounded by beating a drum in a village, for the\narm-bearing population to come out in pursuit of raiders or robbers.\n\nChilam = the Afgh\u00e1n term for the Indian hookah, or hubble-bubble\npipe. The kind used in Afghanist\u00e1n is simpler in construction, and\nhas a shorter tube.\n\n\nD.\n\nD\u00e1ktar = the native corruption of \"doctor.\"\n\nDharms\u00e1la = a Hindu temple and rest-house for travellers, these two\ninstitutions being almost invariably combined.\n\nDilaq = the patchwork cloak which is characteristic of the Muhammadan\nfaqir.\n\nD\u00fam = the village barber and musician, these two offices being usually\ncombined; he also does most of the minor surgery of the village.\n\nD\u00famba = the fat-tailed Afgh\u00e1n sheep.\n\n\nF.\n\nFatw\u00e1 = a religious decree, promulgated by a court of Mullahs, or by\none Mullah of authority.\n\nFeringi = the name universally accorded in Afghanist\u00e1n to Europeans\n(the Franks). In British India it has a prejudicial signification,\nbut not so in Afghanist\u00e1n.\n\n\nG.\n\nGhaz\u00e1 = a religious murder, when a Muhammadan fanatic kills a Christian\nor Hindu for the sake of religion.\n\nGh\u00e1zi = the fanatic who commits ghaz\u00e1.\n\nGrihasta = the second stage in the life of a devout Hindu, when\nhe marries a wife, begets children, and carries on his profession\nor trade.\n\nGuru = a religious preceptor or guide among Hindus or Sikhs.\n\n\nH.\n\nH\u00e1kim = a ruler, an executive officer.\n\nHak\u00edm = a native doctor, who practises on Western or Hippocratic lines.\n\nHalwa = a kind of sweet pudding, very popular with the Afgh\u00e1ns.\n\nHazrat 'Esa = the Muhammadan appellation for our Lord Jesus Christ.\n\nHujra = a guest-house, where travellers are accommodated in Afgh\u00e1n\nvillages. It differs from chauk in that it is more specialized for\nthe use of travellers, while the latter is more for the use of the\nvillage folk.\n\n\nI.\n\n'\u00cdd = a Muhammadan feast-day. There are two chief feasts--the\n\"'Id-el-fitr,\" or day following the fast-month of Ramaz\u00e1n, and the\n\"'Id-el-zoha\" or \"'Id-el-bakr,\" which is the Feast of Sacrifice,\nin memory of Abraham's would-be sacrifice of his son.\n\nIzzat = honour: a word constantly in an Afgh\u00e1n's thoughts and\nconversation, but which even he is not always able to define.\n\n\nJ.\n\nJirgah = a council of the tribal elders. This may be appointed by\nthe tribesmen themselves to settle some dispute, or in British India\nit may be appointed by the civil officer to help in deciding some\njudicial case.\n\n\nK.\n\nK\u00e1fir = an infidel. Strictly, only one who does not believe in God\nand the prophets, but loosely applied to all non-Muslims.\n\nKal\u00e1mull\u00e1h = the Word of God. Comprises, according to Muhammadan\nteaching, four books--the Law (Tauret), the Psalms (Zab\u00far), the Gospel\n(Injil), and the Qur\u00e1n.\n\nKalima = the Muhammadan creed: \"There is no God but God, and Muhammad\nis the prophet of God.\" The recitation of this is the recognized way\nof declaring one's self a Muhammadan.\n\nKanal = a measure of land--one-eighth of an acre.\n\nKarm\u00e1 = works. According to Hindu philosophy, a man's reincarnation\ndepends on the character and amount of his karm\u00e1.\n\nKarnal = the Afgh\u00e1n corruption of \"colonel.\"\n\nKh\u00e1n = a lord, a chief; an honorific title in Afghanist\u00e1n, or merely\npart of a man's name.\n\n\nL.\n\nLashkar = an army; often applied in Afghanist\u00e1n to a small body of\nmen going out from a tribe for warlike purposes, but they may be\ngoing for peaceful purposes--hence the English \"lascar.\"\n\n\nM.\n\nM\u00e1lik = in Afghanist\u00e1n the headman of a village or tribe.\n\nM\u00e1'uzb\u00edll\u00e1h = a Muhammadan exclamation on hearing bad news or a\ncalamity: \"May God protect us!\"\n\nMuharram = a yearly Muhammadan feast held on the 10th of the month\nof Muharram.\n\nMullah = a Muhammadan preacher.\n\nMunshi = a clerk or preceptor.\n\n\nP.\n\nPagari = the Eastern head-dress or turban.\n\nPatw\u00e1ri = a village bailiff, who keeps the accounts of the village\nlands.\n\nPatwarkh\u00e1na = the office of the bailiff.\n\nParda = the Eastern custom of secluding women from the public gaze.\n\nPul\u00e1o = a popular dish in Afghanist\u00e1n, consisting of meat cooked with\nrice, with spices, nuts, raisins, and sweetenings.\n\n\nQ.\n\nQurb\u00e1n = lit., sacrifice; also used as an expression of devotion by\nan inferior to a superior.\n\nQismet = fate, destiny; an ever-present idea in the Muhammadan mind.\n\n\nR.\n\nReb\u00e1b = an Afgh\u00e1n stringed instrument, resembling a guitar.\n\n\nS.\n\nS\u00e1hib = lit., gentleman; the term of respect usually applied to\nEnglishmen.\n\nSam\u00e1dh = the posture assumed by an ascetic for contemplation of the\nDeity. There are a great variety of these, each possessing its own\npeculiar merit.\n\nSangar = an entrenchment. In the mountain warfare of Afghanist\u00e1n\nthese are made of short walls of stones on the hillside.\n\nSany\u00e1si = the fourth stage in the life of a devout Hindu, when he\nretires from the world, and gives himself up entirely to religious\nmeditation.\n\nSard\u00e1r = a chief, an Afgh\u00e1n nobleman.\n\nSark\u00e1r = the usual term for the British Government.\n\nSharm = shame. The Afgh\u00e1n idea underlying this word is a complex,\nin which shame, public disgrace, modesty, delicacy, sense of honour,\nall share in varying degree. He is always talking of it.\n\nSh\u00e1ster = a religious book of the Hindus.\n\nShesham = a common tree on the frontier that yields an excellent hard\nwood for various articles of household use--Dalbergia sisso.\n\nSow\u00e1r = a horseman.\n\nSura = a chapter of the Qur\u00e1n.\n\n\nT.\n\nTahs\u00edl = the subdivision of an administrative district; the centre\nfor the collection of the revenue.\n\nT\u00e1lib = a Muhammadan religious student; a pupil in a mosque.\n\nTap-jap = a recitation of religious formul\u00e6 by a Hindu.\n\nTauba = lit., repentance; an exclamation denoting abhorrence or\ncontrition.\n\n\nU.\n\nUst\u00e1d = a master or preceptor; a religious teacher (among Muhammadans).\n\n\nW.\n\nWil\u00e1yati = belonging to Europe; especially applied to merchandise of\nEuropean origin.\n\n\nY.\n\nYogsadhan = a system of contemplation, combined with religious\nexercises, whereby occult power is acquired.\n\nYun\u00e1ni = pertaining to Greece. This is the word usually applied to\nthat system of native medicine which was derived from the Greeks; in\nEurope it is spoken of in connection with the name of Hippocrates,\nwho formulated it. The other, or Hindu system, is the Vedic; those\nwho practise the former are called hak\u00edms, the latter baids.\n\n\nZ.\n\nZamind\u00e1r = a farmer, a landowner.\n\nZy\u00e1rat = a shrine; the grave of a holy man; a place of pilgrimage.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\n[1] More probably from the Greek kofinos.--J. C.\n\n[2] In a booklet published by the Church Missionary Society, entitled\n\"Delawar Khan.\"\n\n[3] S. E. Stokes in The East and the West for April, 1908.\n\n[4] \"Across our Indian Frontier,\" by Colonel G. Wingate, C.I.E.","title":"Among the Wild Tribes of the Afghan Frontier: A Record of Sixteen Years' Close Intercourse with the Natives of the Indian Marches","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":100884}