the French Revolution, in Affghanistan was nothing but fighting for
some ten or fifteen years. Truly a battle royal it was; and if we
cannot report to a fraction the "list of the killed and wounded," we
know the main results. How many of the fraternal combatants leaped upon
the throne, we are not quite sure. Four we can swear to, who were all
pulled out by the ears before they had time to adjust the folds of
their purple. The case of Eteocles and Polynices was a joke to it; and
by the time the row or termashaw was over, and the candles were brought
back amongst this happy family, the following was the state of
matters--two stone blind, three (if not four) stone dead, and two in
exile living upon charity; amongst which last was Penultimate Soojah.
It is proper to mention, by the way, as an appendix to the adventures
of this old friend, that (improving upon his grandpapa's example) he
had run off from his elder brother with the crown jewels; but, like
Colonel Blood in our Charles II.'s reign, he benefited only by the
glory of this distinguished larceny; for soon after, falling amongst
thieves, at the head of whom was our late worthy ally the Seik
Maharajah, Runjeet Singh, he in _his_ turn, was effectually cleaned
out; and, in particular, his silk "wipe," in which he had wrapped up
the famous _Koh-i-noor_, or _summit of glory_, was cleanly forked out
of his fob by the artful dodger, old Runjeet, himself. Here was a
pleasant commentary on the adage of "_Diamond cut Diamond_." The
jewels, originally stolen by Ahmed, were passed on (as in our game of
_Hunt the Slipper_) from thief to thief, until at least forty thieves
had possessed them for a few weeks or months. All the forty are now
dead; and at this moment the _summit of glory_, possibly never once
worn by one of them, is a derelict in the hands of the latest murderer
at Lahore, of course attracting by its light all hands towards his
interesting throat.