in his very boyhood he had been thrown in the way of pollution of the
foulest kind. From his youth, he had been greatly addicted to wine,
and was often to be seen in public reeling along in a state of
degrading intoxication, or scarcely able to keep his place in the
saddle. All this was now to be reformed. He taught himself to read and
to write, accomplishments which he had before, if at all, scantily
possessed. He studied the Koran, abandoned the use of strong liquors,
became scrupulously abstemious, plain in his attire, assiduous in his
attention to business, urbane and courteous to all.' In 1833, Shah
Soojah, issuing from the British territory, made an abortive attempt
to recover his kingdom; but Runjeet Singh, the ruler of the Sikhs, was
more successful in wresting from him Peshawur, a province of
Afghanistan, and Dost Mahomed, both in rage and terror, began to look
around him for a foreign alliance. His grand aim was to secure the
friendship of the British; but this was scornfully refused. The
governor-general, with exquisite irony, replied to his overture: 'My
friend, you are aware that it is not the practice of the British
government to interfere with the affairs of other independent states!'
and a British envoy to Cabool, while refusing everything that was
important for him to ask, kindly cautioned him to abstain from
connecting himself with any other power.

Such was the position of affairs in Afghanistan when the government of
India, in 1838, was roused to a sense of what seemed immediate danger
by the movements in Central Asia. On the one hand, there was a _de
facto_ king, who had reigned twelve years, who was now struggling in
the grasp of the ruler of the Punjab, and eagerly soliciting the
alliance of the British; while the Russians and Persians, leagued
before Herat, were already negotiating for a footing in his country.
On the other hand, there was a deposed exile, who had tried