Chapter XV: The Amîr’s Conversation

Sent for to the Palace. Fragility of Europeans. The Amîr’s postîn.
The Bedchamber. The King’s evening costume. The guests. The Amîr’s
illness. School in the Durbar-room. The Amîr’s conversation.
Companies of Khans: the water supply of London: plurality of wives.
The Amîr is bled. Further conversation. His Highness a physician
in Turkestan: an iron-smith: a gold-smith. Drawing. Discussion
as to the Amîr’s portrait. Amîr’s choice of costume. The Shah of
Persia. Portraits of the Shah in ignominious places. The rupee and
the Queen’s portrait. Cigar holders. Concerning Afghan hillmen.
Dinner. The Amîr’s domestic habits. Amîr’s consideration for
subordinates. Conversation concerning European customs. The new
Kabul. Native drugs. Soup and beef tea. The paper trick. Page-boys
with fever. The Kafir Page. European correspondence. Vaccination
of Prince Mahomed Omer. Afghan women. The Prince’s house: his
chamber: his nurse. The Prince. The operation. Abdul Wahid. Afghan
desire for vaccination. The Armenian’s useful sagacity. An Afghan
superstition. The dreadful old lady and her suggestion. The nurse’s
remark. The Agent’s secretary. His comments upon Bret Harte: the
meaning of “By Jove”: the Christian belief in the Trinity. European
“divorce” from an Oriental point of view: plurality of wives.

That evening, about seven o’clock, a messenger came from the Palace saying that the Armenian was wanted at once by Amîr Sahib. I was a little startled, wondering if anything had gone wrong. About half-an-hour afterwards the Armenian, accompanied by a soldier with a lantern, returned, and said that His Highness wished to see me.

[Sidenote: Sent for to the Palace.]

Outside it was dark and freezing, and His Highness had been kind enough to send by the hand of the Armenian a postîn for me, lest I should take a chill again and have a return of fever. For, as the Armenian put it, “Highness say Afghan is stone man, heat is not hurt it, cold is not hurt it; but European very soft man, likes flower, soon cold is take it.”

The postîn, of crimson velvet lined with a valuable fur called in Persian, “khuz”--I think a species of marten--was made to fit the noble proportions of the Amîr. On my lean figure it showed to better advantage wrapped round as a cloak.

Guided by the soldier with his lantern, we reached the Palace and waited a minute or two in the anteroom: presently a Page boy came out and called me in. I wondered what could be the matter. But it occurred to me that it could not be anything disagreeable or His Highness would not have sent me his own postîn.

I was shown into His Highness’s bedroom--at least, so I conjectured, though it bore no resemblance to our ideas of a bedroom. It was a smaller room than the one I had been in at the Tuesday’s Durbar, and on the other side of the centre hall or passage.

At one end of the room was His Highness, seated on a divan or broad couch which was covered with furs. In front of him was what looked like a large ottoman covered with a quilt which was partly concealed by a cover of Indian embroidery. This was a “sandali,” and underneath was the charcoal brazier. On the divan were piled cushions and large pillows covered with velvet and silk brocades.

His Highness wore a small white turban of Indian muslin: over his shoulders was thrown a robe of crimson silk lined with fur and almost covered with gold embroidery. The room was brilliant with innumerable wax candles. Two brass candlesticks with branches stood on the sandali, and many more were placed round the room. It was a very striking scene. Several Page boys were standing at the far end of the room--there was no talking or whispering--and, at a sign or word from His Highness, one of them moved silently to do as he was told. Seated on the ground at the side of the room, about midway between His Highness and the Page boys, were three of the Court: one was the Sirdar Usuf Khan, the Amîr’s uncle; another was the Master of the Horse, Sirdar Abdullah Khan; and the third, my old friend, General Nasir Khan.

I bowed to His Highness and he ordered a chair to be placed for me: then tea was brought.

[Sidenote: The Amîr’s Illness.]

His Highness said that he hoped I should suffer no inconvenience from the night air, and that he had asked me to visit him as he was suffering from a severe chill. He had studied many Persian books on medicine, he told me, and was intending to take certain medicines. He took the trouble to show me the medicines and explain their action. I asked permission to make an examination of his temperature and condition, and found he had four degrees of fever (102·4 F.). Granting that the medicines acted as he supposed, he was adopting a rational line of treatment, and I told him so, explaining, at the same time, that I had not studied the action of the remedies he spoke of. He talked to me for some time and told me, amongst other things, that he had studied medicine while he was an exile in Russia. He said that he never learnt Russian, but that he could talk Persian, Arabic, Pushtu, and Turki.

By-and-by sweetmeats and fruit were brought in, pomegranates and pears, oranges, grapes, and dried fruit. His Highness offered me a cigarette, or rather directed one of the Pages to do so, and I smoked while he spoke to me. At about nine o’clock His Highness indicated that he felt inclined to sleep, and I was permitted to retire.

The next morning at eleven o’clock I was sent for again. It was snowing fast and I had to put a plain cloak over my finery, leaving it, of course, in the anteroom when I reached the Palace. I found His Highness very little better; he was feverish and still had pain in the shoulders and back. He said he had had a very restless night, with much fever. The attendants said he had been delirious, but I doubt if they knew what they were talking about.

After talking to His Highness for a short time we all retired to the Durbar room and His Highness got a little sleep. For us the inevitable tea was brought, and I smoked cigars and talked to the Armenian. There were several small Page boys in the Durbar room; they were seated cross-legged on the ground round the charcoal brazier and were receiving lessons in reading and writing. One or two were handsome boyish boys, and another was very pretty, but in face more like a little Italian girl than a boy.

At half-past one breakfast--in my case lunch--was brought in. It was practically a repetition of Tuesday’s, except that His Highness was not there. After lunch I smoked on till I had finished all the cigars I had in my pocket, and then one of the Chamberlain’s, my friend, Shere Ali Khan, brought me some cigarettes. We had tea again, two sweet cups, and half a cup without sugar.

At four o’clock in the afternoon I was called in to His Highness. He still had some fever, but felt better. There were several people in the room. Beside the Pages there were the two chief Hakims, Abdul Wahid and Abdur Rashid, and other people, some of whom I knew and some I did not. All were seated on the ground round the room, and everyone was very still.

[Sidenote: The Amîr’s Conversation.]

His Highness addressed his conversation to me. He told me much about the customs of the Russians that he became acquainted with when he was in exile; and he asked me many questions about London. He seemed to know a good deal about it himself. He described, for the benefit of the listeners, an English custom in which gentlemen--Khans--of wealth, band themselves together for the purpose of trade, and that each band is called “a Comp’ny.” He asked much about the water supply of London, enquiring whether it were a Government undertaking, or managed by a Comp’ny of Khans, and he dropped a remark or two that showed me he had taken the trouble to secure previous information on the subject.

The conversation drifted to many subjects, and I remember he proved--though I do not say entirely to my satisfaction--how much better it was to have five wives than one. So that, although I was at the Palace purely in a professional capacity, I found myself being entertained by the Royal patient in most interesting conversation. At last he said I must be tired, having spent the whole day at the Palace. I need scarcely say that the enjoyment of listening to His Highness, and adding what I could to his stock of information, quite made up for any ennui I may have felt while smoking innumerable cigars and cigarettes in the Durbar room.

We got home about six in the evening. I had then to go and see my neighbour, the Mirza Abdur Rashid, who had sent to my house several times. He had fever again. I did not call on the Commander-in-Chief a second time while he was ill, as I found he preferred trusting himself to the skill of the hereditary physicians of his country, the Hakims.

The next morning I went to the Palace again. His Highness said he was better: certainly he had no fever, but he looked uncommonly ill. He told me that, feeling very feverish and oppressed in the evening after I had left, he ordered a vein in his arm to be opened and a quantity of blood to be withdrawn. He expressed himself as feeling considerably relieved by the operation.

In the afternoon, at half-past four, when I went again to see him, His Highness seemed to have recovered somewhat from the blood-letting, and was in very good spirits. He related many interesting details of his life when he was in exile in Samarcànd and Tashkend. He told me that, after having read up the ancient Greek system of medicine as set forth in the Persian books at his command, he practised as a Physician among the natives of Russian Turkestan: that in his spare time he worked at the forge to learn the manufacture of war materials: that he learnt the details of gunpowder manufacture, and even worked at the more delicate and artistic handicraft of the goldsmith. He said that he tried to learn drawing, knowing that the art can be applied to so many uses, but that he never was able to succeed. He praised my capabilities in that line in the complimentary language of an Oriental, and asked me to show those in the room how one began a drawing.

[Sidenote: Drawing and Painting.]

I asked what should I draw? He left that entirely to me. A paper and pencil being brought, I made a sketch of a man’s head, and handed it to His Highness. He looked at it critically, and said that the only improvement he could suggest was that the eyebrows should be a little heavier. After I had corrected this he approved entirely, and a Page boy took the sketch round to every one in the room.

“Wah, wah!” they said, in admiration.

The King had approved; the Courtiers admired.

His Highness then said that the only thing he could ever draw was a tree in the winter-time. I asked him if he would honour us by showing us how a tree should be drawn. He took the paper and pencil and drew two trees excellently. I intended to have asked His Highness to give me the sketch, for it was really drawn for my benefit, but one of the Courtiers was too clever for me, and he annexed it. I did not like to ask then, for I knew the man would get into trouble if I did.

His Highness desired me to commence a portrait of himself as soon as he was well enough to sit. I said it would give me very great pleasure to do so. There was a discussion then, in which the Courtiers joined, as to the size the painting should be. Some suggested that it should be an equestrian portrait, life size; others that it should be of the King sitting: and many different costumes were suggested, all more or less gorgeous. I said that I had only enough canvas for a “head portrait.” His Highness said that if I would make out a list of anything I wanted in the way of canvas, brushes, and paints, he would order them to be brought from Bombay at once. I finally suggested that a head portrait should be finished first, and if His Highness approved of it, a “full length” could be done afterwards. His Highness had never sat for a painting, and I think that he scarcely realized what an undertaking it is to sit for a full length life-sized portrait. As regards costume, His Highness said he preferred a plain coat and a fur busby. Embroidery and bright colours, he said, were more fit for women and boys than men.

Afterwards he told us many interesting stories about the Shah of Persia and other people. The Shah he did not take at all seriously, and, in particular, he laughed at the custom there is in Persia of putting a portrait of the Shah on almost everything; even on utensils that are used for ignominous purposes. He described the Persians as not at all cleanly persons.

[Sidenote: The Queen’s Portrait on the Indian Rupee.]

It is to be noted that the Amîr will allow no representation of himself on vessels, stamps, or coins, and when I learnt this, I confess I was surprised that he wished his portrait painted. However, when the portrait was eventually finished, it was apparently looked upon as an effigy or representation of Royalty, and, as you shall hear presently, was treated with some ceremony and no little respect. While he was speaking about the Shah, he happened to take up an Indian rupee, and was spinning it about on the sandali in front of him. Suddenly he said, as he picked it up--

“How old was Queen Victoria when this portrait was taken?”

I hesitated a moment: it was a difficult question to answer. Finally I said,

“It is intended to represent the Queen, but it is not a portrait of Her Majesty as she is now, nor, I believe, as she was when she was young.”

His Highness at once said,

“You are right; every feature is incorrect--eyes, nose, and mouth; and even the crown on her head is not the crown she wears.”

It was impossible for me to explain, through the Armenian, that the impression on the coin was a heraldic decoration, and was not meant for an exact portrait of Her Majesty.

Meanwhile, fruit and sweets were brought, and I lit a cigar. When I had smoked to the stump, I stuck my pocket-knife in to hold it by.

His Highness said, “Have you no cigar-holder?”

On hearing I had not, he gave some directions to a Page boy. The boy disappeared, returning presently with about a dozen cases. His Highness opened the cases, examined them, and then, choosing two, gave them to me.

They were meerschaum and amber cigar-holders, the case being stamped with the name of a firm in Bombay. One was in the shape of a hand holding an oval, and the other was straight with a prancing horse carved on the top of it. They looked so beautifully pure in colour that it seemed a pity to defile them with tobacco smoke. However, aesthetic ideas did not prevail, and before long I had coloured them both a rich brown.

By-and-bye I began to think it must surely be getting somewhere near dinner time, when just then the clock struck--it was ten p.m. However, it was not yet the hour for the Amîr’s second meal, and he continued conversing. He told me of the habits and customs of the Afghan hillmen; of their agility and hardiness, their great stature and bodily strength: that with them meat was a luxury to be obtained only by the few and by them rarely; of the weapons they manufactured for themselves, their love of fighting, and their love of robbery. I said,

“They must be good stuff to make soldiers of.”

“Yes,” said His Highness, “but they needed taming.”

A little before midnight dinner was brought. The Amîr has two meals in the day: one about midday and the other about midnight. Occasionally the time is varied. He may breakfast at ten a.m. and dine at nine or ten p.m. He takes a cup of tea on rising, and, as a rule, some biscuits--macaroons and other sweet cakes--are brought, though he seldom eats them. At breakfast and dinner he eats as heartily as one would expect a robust man to do, but not more so. The _pièce de résistance_ being pilau, which consists largely of rice, I think that the Amîr does not eat so much meat in the day as an ordinary Englishman. He drinks water only, at meals. Tea he drinks in the early morning and in the afternoon, and, curiously enough, tea is usually brought half-an-hour before and sometimes half-an-hour after a meal. There is no set rule as regards tea drinking. It is taken at all hours of the day, except with meals.

When dinner was brought, a tray was placed before His Highness on the sandali. A small table was brought for me, and the Courtiers sat on the ground.

The Armenian, who had had a little fever the day before, had been standing behind my chair all this time--rather more than seven hours--and translating. He looked fagged to death. His Highness happening to notice him standing while everyone was sitting, said, “Sit and eat.”

The Armenian, however, did not dare to take the Amîr at his word and excite the resentment of the Courtiers, the Chief Secretaries, and Officers, by joining them, and, moreover, he felt shame at presuming to sit eating in the presence of the Amîr, so that he made some excuse. His Highness, seeing his embarrassment, ordered dinner to be served for him in another room.

When dinner was over I asked permission to retire, and His Highness gave orders for a guard with lanterns to conduct me to my door. We got home at half-past one.

The next day, Sunday, I spent in a similar way at the Palace. I found His Highness better. After being with him a short time I withdrew to the Durbar room, where lunch was served for me.

[Sidenote: The New Kabul.]

I was called in again in the afternoon and His Highness continued his conversation. He spoke much about European customs, and surprised me by the extent and accuracy of his knowledge. The Courtiers sat listening, dumb with admiration at the “boundless knowledge of the great King.” He told me of the city of his dreams, the new Kabul, that he hoped to build in the Charhardeh Valley, drawing a plan of the city and of its fortifications. I enquired whether there were materials for building near at hand; and asked where he would get his water supply from, and so on, and he entered into all the details most willingly.

He gave me further information about the Afghans as a nation: though he described more their obvious characteristics than those that are unknown to European investigators. He sent for samples of native drugs and plants, and instructed me in their alleged action on the human body.

At dinner, soup was brought for my especial benefit, for the Amîr knew that Europeans took soup before meat when they dined. The conversation then turned upon the making of soup, and His Highness sent for the cooking utensils that were used by his cook and described the process to me. I did not know how soup was made, but I knew how to extract the nourishing properties of meat, and I described the making of “beef tea,” giving the reasons for each step in the process.

After dinner--I forget what led up to it--I asked for a piece of paper and a pair of scissors, and having cut a square the size of the palm of my hand, I said to His Highness that I could cut a hole in it big enough to put my head through: would he ask his Courtiers if they could do the same. One after another they took the paper, and the Amîr seemed much amused as they turned it every way, and finally declared the thing was impossible. It was given back to me and I made the usual cuts. One down the middle and others alternately from the middle cut and from the outer edge--this fashion. Of course, it would go over my head then. The Amîr enjoyed immensely the astonishment and discomfiture of the Courtiers, and laughed heartily as he mocked and jeered at them.

[Sidenote: The Kafir Page, Malek.]

All this time the little Page boys had to be standing, and they looked dreadfully tired. One of them, the Amîr’s favourite, had fever. He was a slave from Kaffristan, about fourteen, named Malek. He was fair-skinned and quite like an English boy in face, though he wore two large emeralds looped in each ear by a ring of gold.

There was a hard frost that night, and we did not get home till half-past two.

The next morning, when I arrived at the Palace, I found His Highness was asleep, so I betook myself to Samander’s khirgar or wigwam. It was as well I went, for I found he had fever. I took the opportunity also of prescribing for the favourite Page, Malek. He was a nice lad, and I had a chat with him. He seemed to be quite proud that he was not a Mahomedan in religion, though he couldn’t quite tell me what he was. He remembered only a few words of his native language.

Afterwards he became a very good friend to me. He had infinite tact, and if I wished to call the attention of His Highness to any matter without making a formal report, Malek was always ready to choose the fitting moment in which to speak to His Highness.

I did not see the Amîr that day, for he was engaged, busily and alone, answering European correspondence. I heard, however, that he was much better.

On the following day, Tuesday, His Highness held the usual military Durbar. He sat at the window of the Palace enveloped in furs. When I arrived, he desired me to examine the throat of a woman who was there, unveiled, among the petitioners, and diagnose the disease she was suffering from. When I had given my report, His Highness invited me into the Palace and I lunched with him as before. He asked me why I had ceased, since my recovery from fever, from sending to his kitchen for lunch and dinner. He desired me to continue sending, so long as I remained in the country.

After that the Amîr’s cook waited upon me daily at my house to receive orders.

A day or two after this, on Sunday, January 19th, I was called before daybreak to vaccinate the little Prince, Mahomed Omer. The very fat man, Hakim Abdur Rashid, came for me while I was dressing; the servants prepared tea and then we started. The Prince was not living in the harem with his mother, the Sultana: he had a house of his own not very far from mine.

The Hakim waddled by my side, talking and talking, and panting, and still talking in his unctuous voice, and I stalked on in the darkness. Dawn was so near that we brought no lanterns, and before we reached the house the light of morning was gleaming on the snow. At the high gate, leading to the gardens, was a sentry with fixed bayonet.

Just as we reached the gate an old “sakabi,” or water-carrier, was passed in by the sentry. Before he was allowed to cross the gardens with his leather water-bag to fill the house deghchis, or water-pots, the sentry made him unloose his turban and droop the end of it over his eyes so that he could see on the ground only.

“Women about?” I said to the Armenian.

“Yes, sir. Highness’ sister here and other lady.”

“Shall we see them?” I asked.

“Sir. Please you not talk. Perhaps this fat man understand. Highness make angry if he hear.”

Our eyes were not bandaged, though the Armenian and I were a good deal younger than the “sakabi.” The fat Hakim did not count. We crossed the garden and went up some steps into a lobby and the Hakim called out:--

“Kussi ast?” “Anyone here?”

A door on our right opened and the old Hakim, Abdul Wahid, appeared, and raising a curtain ushered us into the room.

The usual charcoal brazier stood in the middle of the carpet, curtains hung by the windows and over the doors.

The curtain over a doorway, at the far side of the room, was slightly pulled back, and, though we could see no one, it was here I heard that the ladies were concealed.

Seated by the side of the brazier was a fair young woman with a baby on her knee. These were the little Prince and his nurse. There were two older women, also nurses, seated by the fire. None of the women were veiled, but each had a cashmere shawl over her head, which she pulled slightly across the lower part of the face. All rose as we entered.

[Sidenote: Vaccination of Prince Mahomed Omer.]

The Prince was a bright-eyed healthy-looking little fellow, with a skin slightly darker than that of an English baby. He was very much swaddled-up in clothes. Over his head was thrown a square of white cashmere, which was held back from the face and kept in position by a band round the head. A chair and a little table were placed for me, and the inevitable tea was brought.

The Hakim and nurses sat on the ground again. The Armenian remained standing.

Presently, I said to the Armenian, “I am quite ready now to vaccinate the Prince.”

It was broad daylight by this time, and I had my lancet and vaccine lymph with me.

The Armenian spoke to the Hakim Abdul Wahid, and he directed the nurse to undress the child sufficiently to expose the upper arm. The nurse commenced to unfasten the innumerable strings and bandages in which the Prince was bound up. As this operation needed both her hands, of course it was not her fault that the shawl fell back from her face. She was really a very pretty girl. She had a little crimson jacket, a long white camise reaching to the knee, loose oriental trousers, and a little gold-embroidered cap, like a polo cap, put coquettishly on one side: the embroidered cashmere shawl draped from the head over the shoulders. As she sat with the child on her knee and the early sun shining on them, it struck me what a picture they would make for the Madonna and Child.

The two old ladies were not so smartly dressed. They had dark-grey shawls and a sort of hood on the head. They looked like nuns and acted as a “foil” to the nurse.

When the little Prince’s arms were free, he waved them about and crowed joyously. As he lay on the nurse’s lap I was obliged to sit on the ground to vaccinate him. The operation did not take many seconds. He looked somewhat astonished when he felt the first prick of the lancet: possibly it was the first sensation of pain he had ever experienced, and he gave a little whimper before I had quite finished. Then his arm was bound up and he was dressed again.

When we came away, the portly Abdur Rashid took a ceremonious and courtly leave, but Abdul Wahid walked part of the way home with me. He did not talk. He was dressed in pure Afghan costume of the plainest kind. A loose brown coat or robe reaching to the knee, plain blue turban and a thin brown cloak, or lungi, of camels’ hair draped in classic folds over his shoulders.

I never saw anyone who could throw the end of the cloak over the left shoulder so negligently, and yet have it fall in such folds as he could.

[Sidenote: Afghan desire for Vaccination.]

The old Hakim departed on his way home, and we met the “Master of the Carpets,” Bai Mahomed Khan. He apparently had been lying in wait for us, and he begged me to come to his house and vaccinate his infant son. As I had plenty of lymph we went on to his house to do so. We waited in the porch while he went in to drive all the women away; consequently, the child had to be undressed and held by a man-servant. In the afternoon, two of the little Prince’s Kaffir slave boys were sent to my house to be vaccinated; and on succeeding days several more were sent for the same purpose.

Many people, even those not attached to the Court, came and asked, as a favour, that I would vaccinate their children. Some cases I was, of necessity, obliged to postpone until I could get a further supply of lymph. In Kabul, I saw many people suffering from the frightful results of that dread disease, Small-pox, when it seizes upon those unprotected by vaccination. In England, where vaccination is so universal, it is rare to see a bad case.

I visited the Prince every day for about a fortnight. Abdul Wahid generally met me at the house. He and I were to attend to the Prince’s health and up-bringing. Abdur Rashid did not appear after the first visit. I did not vehemently press European innovations after the first day or two, for the Armenian said, with useful sagacity:--

“Sir, suppose you take away bandages and head coverings, and curtains, and Shahzada Sahib take cold, blame come upon you. Better you let the women do in Afghan custom, then no harm come for you.”

I took his advice, and the more willingly, because none of my suggestions had, hitherto, produced the slightest effect. For immovable obstinacy there is nothing to match the conservatism of an Eastern woman.

I soon became friendly with the little Prince, and trotted him on my knee, or walked about the room with him in my arms. I never kissed him, for I thought it better to consider the religious scruples of the Sultana. Being a Feringhi there was always a chance that I _might_ have eaten pig.

One day he was very merry, and was laughing when I said good-bye and left the room. Immediately one of the old nurses followed me out and begged a hair from my head, so that no evil should result from my having left him while he was laughing. The hair was burnt with due ceremony.

[Sidenote: The Dreadful Old Lady and her Suggestion.]

This old lady asked me one day if I were not very “dek”--_ennuié_--living alone in a strange land. She said,

“Why do you not buy a little Kaffir girl with a white skin, and make her your wife?”

I said I was betrothed to an English girl.

“England!” she said, “that is a far journey from here. Take to yourself a wife in Afghanistan, and your English wife can remain in England.”

You wicked old lady! I thought. I said,

“It is not the custom of my country, and is forbidden by our religion.”

She laughed.

I began to get afraid of this old lady.

Another day the younger nurse volunteered a remark. She asked me--Were there in England any women as beautiful as she, with skin as white and eyes as dark.

The old ladies remarked that her question was exceedingly ill-bred, and one likely to cause offence to me.

The Armenian told her that she, and such as she, were not fit to carry the shoes of an English lady. I said he was quite right: so she was snubbed all round. However, she did not seem to mind, for she sat and smiled to herself.

Meanwhile, I was continuing my Persian lessons, whenever Munshi Amin Ullah, the Agent’s secretary, could spare an hour to visit me. One day I persuaded him to read “Bret Harte” aloud to me. It was delicious to see this highly-educated Mahomedan--he was an excellent fellow--sitting cross-legged on the ground, solemnly declaiming the “Heathen Chinee.”

As I laughed, I said, “By Jove! it _is_ funny!”

He said he thought it was very difficult and very incorrect English. I told him that was just where the joke came in. He smiled politely, and asked why I said “By Joe!” He had often heard Englishmen use the expression, and knew that Joe was an abbreviation of Joseph, though why we should say “By Joe,” or who Joe was, he had not heard. I explained the origin of the expression, and described Jove as the god of the Romans.

I asked him if he had considered the Christian Religion. He told me he had studied the Jewish Bible and the Christian Testament. He could not understand how a race so intellectual as the English could accept the--to him--incomprehensible idea of three Gods. I said that Christians believed in one God only, and I endeavoured to illustrate the Trinity in Unity by describing the trinity that exists in every man: of will, intellect, and deed. To do anything one must first have the wish, or will, from that is begotten the thought how to do it, then comes the deed. He did not discuss the point.

He said another thing that puzzled and surprised him considerably was the custom among the English of selling their wives. I said,

“But Englishmen do not sell their wives.”

“Yes,” he said, “and, moreover, it is published in the newspapers when they do so.”

“What on earth do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean this: an English woman becomes wearied of her husband, and prefers another to him. The man who is preferred is called a ‘co-respondent.’ Straightway they go before the Kasi--the Magistrate, and, after much discussion, it is decided at what price the co-respondent shall buy the woman. The money is then paid to the husband.”

This gave me a sort of shock.

“People of my race,” he continued, calmly, “do differently. When a woman prefers another to her husband--they kill her.”

I asked if he were married. He said “No.”

[Sidenote: Plurality of Wives.]

“Do you,” I said, “consider that a plurality of wives is to be desired?”

“Among people of my race,” he replied, “a plurality of wives is lawful; but that which is lawful is not always expedient.”

“In what way is it inexpedient?” I asked.

“Firstly, there is the question of expense. Secondly, a plurality of wives is a source of constant annoyance and anxiety. One wife will live in peace with her husband; but with two or more, there is no peace: for ever they are quarrelling.”