vigils; saw everything, heard everything in silence; bided his time
patiently, and when the hour came, trod the stage of active life as no
irresolute novice. A stripling of fourteen, in the crowded streets of
Peshawur in broad day, as the buyers and the sellers thronged the
thoroughfares of the city, he slew one of the enemies of Futteh Khan,
and galloped home to report the achievement to the Wuzeer. From that
time his rise was rapid. The neglected younger brother of Futteh Khan
became the favourite of the powerful chief, and following the fortunes
of the warlike minister, soon took his place among the chivalry of the
Douranee Empire.'

The name of this youth is well known in the annals of our time: he was
Dost Mahomed, a gay, bold, frank, daring character, who rose from the
excesses of his early years into something resembling a hero of
romance. One of these excesses was committed when he had taken by
assault the Palace of Herat. It consisted in tearing the jewelled
waistband from the person of the wife of one of the royal princes--a
terrible outrage in the eyes of these _barbarous_ soldiers of the
farther East, who, even when covered with blood, and loaded with
rapine, cast down their eyes before the females of their enemies'
household. In this case, the profaned garment was sent by the lady to
her brother, the son of the then Afghan king, and a bloody vengeance
followed, not upon the author of the outrage, but on the king-making
vizier, who, falling into the hands of the prince whom he had himself
placed upon the throne, was literally hacked to pieces. Dost Mahomed
now rose like a rocket. The base and feeble remains of legitimacy
seemed to die away of its own weakness, and the despised younger son
of the king-making vizier soon reigned supreme at Cabool. Let us note
that this was in 1826. The new king, says Mr Kaye, 'had hitherto lived
the life of a dissolute soldier. His education had been neglected, and