n I fear idly--and for mere
occupation sake, my thoughts were written as they arose. My mind as
influenced by scene or incident, is fully exposed in these pages, and
while I have concealed nothing, neither have I added to that which I
originally indited. I am necessarily, and indeed intentionally
egotistical, because I write for those who will chiefly value a personal
narrative. Still, I am not ashamed if others see my book, although I
would deprecate their criticism by begging them to remember that I only
offer it for the perusal of those near and dear to me.

INTRODUCTION.

In the early morning of Midsummer's-day, 1868, I might have been seen
slowly wending my way towards the office of the Deputy Inspector General
of Hospitals, at Peshawur--for the purpose of appearing before the
standing Medical Committee of the station, and having an enquiry made
concerning the state of my health. A Dooley followed me lest my strength
should prove inadequate to the task of walking a quarter of a mile. But
let me make my description as short as the Committee did their enquiry.
My face, as white as the clothes I wore, told more than my words could,
and I was hardly required to recount how that one burning May-day I was
called at noon to visit a sick woman, and that while all other Europeans
were in their closed and darkened bungalows with punkahs swinging, and
thermautidotes blowing cool breezes, I went forth alone on my medical
mission to encounter the fierce gaze of the baneful sun, and was
overpowered by its fiery influence, or how that I laid a weary month on
the sick bed, tormented by day with a never ceasing headache, and by
night with a terrible dread, worse than any pain, or to conclude, how
the deadly climate of that notoriously evil station afforded me no
prospect of improvement. This relation was scarcely needed to procure
me a certificate, stating that three months leave of absence to Murree
was absolutely essential for my recovery, and a recommendation that I
might be allowed to proceed immediately in anticipation of the leave
being granted. So the next evening saw me start from Peshawur for Rawul
Pindee, in a Dak Gharie, accompanied by my dog "Silly" and my Madrapee
servant or "Boy." Onwards we sped at a gallop, the horses being changed
every six miles, through Nowshera, the furnace; over the rapid and icy
cold Indus by boat; past Fort Attock, the oven in which our soldiers are
done to death; and Hussan Aboul of