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NLN lnc
Table of contents
Introduction
About Swift
About the book

Part I. Introducing Xcode

Chapter 1. The first steps

eleven . You need a Mac computer
12 . Sign up as an Apple developer
thirteen . Install Xcode

Chapter 2 . Xcode environment and playground projects

2 .1. Introduction to Xcode
2 .2. Playground project interface
2 .3. Playground project capabilities

Part II. Basic Swift Features

Chapter 3 . Starting point

3 .1. Setting and changing the value
3 .2. Variables and constants
3 .3. The rules for declaring variables and constants
3 .4. Display of text information
3 .5. Comments
3 .6. Semicolon
Chapter 4 . Data types and operations with them
4 .1. Types of data type definition
4 .2. Numeric data types
4 .3. Text data types
4 .4. Boolean values
4 .5. Type aliases
4 .6. Comparison operators

Part III. Fixed assets Swift

Chapter 5. Tuples
5 .1. Basic information about tuples
5 .2. Interacting with elements of a tuple
Chapter 6 . Optional data types
6 .1. Optionals
6 .2. Retrieving an optional value

Chapter 7. Assertions

Chapter 8 . Flow control. Branching

8 .1. Condition statement if
8 .2. Guard statement
8 .3. Range operators
8 .4. The branching operator switch

Chapter 9. Types of collections

9 .1. Arrays
9 .2. Sets
9 .3. Dictionaries

Chapter 10. Flow control. Repetitions

10 .1. The repetition operator for
10 .2. Repeat while and repeat while statements
10 .3. Cycle management

Chapter 11 . Functions
11 .1. Function declaration
11 .2. Input parameters and return value
11 .3. Function body as value
11 .4. Nested functions
11 .5. Reloading functions
11 .6. Recursive function call

Chapter 12 . Closures
12 .1. Functions as closures
12 .2. Closing expressions
12 .3. Implicit return value
12 .4. Abbreviated parameter names
12 .5. Closure variables
12 .6. Capturing variables
12 .7. Array sorting method

Part IV. Non-trivial features of Swift

Chapter 13 . OOP as a foundation

13 .1. Instances
13 .2. Namespaces

Chapter 14 . Enumerations
14 .1. Enumeration syntax
14 .2. Associated parameters
14 .3. Switch statement for enumerations
14 .4. The associated member values of the enumeration
14 .5. Properties in enumerations
14 .6. Methods in enumerations
14 .7. Operator self
14 .8. Recursive enums
Chapter 15. Structures
15 .1. Syntax for declaring structures
15 .2. Properties in structures
15 .3. Structure as a namespace
15 .4. Custom initializers
15 .5. Methods in structures

Chapter 16. Classes

16 .1. Class syntax
16 .2. Class properties
16 .3. Class methods.
16 .4. Class initializers
16 .5. Nested types.

Chapter 17 . Properties
17 .1. Property types.
17 .2. Control of receiving and setting values.
17 .3. Type properties.

Chapter 18 . Subscripts
18 .1. Appointment of subscripts.
18 .2. Subscript syntax

Chapter 19 . Inheritance
19 .1. Inheritance syntax
19 .2. Overriding inherited elements
19 .3. The preemptive final modifier
19 .4. Substitution of class instances
19 .5. Cast

Chapter 20 . The aliases Any and AnyObject

20 .1. The alias is Any
20 .2. The alias is AnyObject.

Chapter 21 . Initializers and Deinitializers.

21 .1. Initializers.
21 .2. Deinitializers.

Chapter 22 . Removing instances and ARC

22 .1. Destruction of instances
22 .2. Memory leaks
22 .3. Automatic reference counting.

Chapter 23 . Optional Chains

23 .1. Accessing properties through optional chaining
23 .2. Setting values through optional chains
23 .3. Accessing methods through optional chaining.

Chapter 24 . Extensions
24 .1. Computed properties in extensions.
24 .2. Extension initializers.
24 .3. Methods in extensions.
24 .4. Subscripts in extensions.

Chapter 25 . Protocols
25 .1. Required properties
25 .2. Required methods
25 .3. Required initializers
25 .4. Protocol as data type
25 .5. Extension and protocols
25 .6. Protocol inheritance
25 .7. Class protocols
25 .8. Composition of protocols

Chapter 26 . Non-standard data types and retrieval

reference information
Chapter 27 . Generic templates
27 .1. Versatile functions
27 .2. Generic types
27 .3. Type constraints
27 .4. Generic extensions
27 .5. Related types

Chapter 28 . Error processing

28 .1. Throwing errors
28 .2. Error processing
28 .3. Delayed cleanup actions.

Chapter 29 . Non-trivial use

operators
29 .1. Operator functions
29 .2. Custom operators
At the annual global platform developer conference
Apple (Worldwide Developers Conference, WWDC) June 2, 2014
The "apple" company pleasantly surprised the iOS-public, installing a new
programming language called Swift.
This came as a big surprise: the maximum that was expected developers
accustomed to a language that is now a thing of the past Objective-C is an
overview of the new features in iOS 8 and new features.
useful programming interfaces for working with them. Recovered
shocked, the developers approached Swift, studying and, of course,
criticizing him. A year later, having released several intermediate
new language versions, on June 8, 2015 Apple announced the release
version with index 2.0, which became available with the final assembly of the
mobile operating system iOS 9. Later, in the middle October of the same
year, version 2.1 was released, bringing development process a number of
significant innovations.
If you've ever written an Objective-C application, then After learning Swift
with its many possibilities, you are probably want to rewrite your
applications in a new programming language- tions . After the release of
1

Swift, many developers went exactly along this path, realizing that in the
future Apple's greatest attention will devote to the development of a new
language. Moreover, Swift became the first open source development by
Apple, which means that
implementation of its support and other operating systems (and not
iOS and OS X only) . 2

1
Swift differs significantly from Objective-C upwards
convenience of programming. However, on rare occasions when developing
programs you may need to use inserts written in
Objective-C.
2
Currently, Swift applications can be developed not only for
operating systems iOS and OS X, but also for watchOS (operating system
Smart watch Apple Watch) and tvOS (television operating system
4th generation Apple TV boxes). However, learning development techniques
applications for different operating systems are out of scope
of this book.

About Swift
Swift is fast, modern, secure and user-friendly.
gramming. With its help, the process of creating programs becomes very
flexible and productive, as Swift has incorporated the best from languages
like C, Objective-C and Java. Swift is extremely convenient to study,
perceive and read the code. It has extremely promising
a vivid future.
Learning this wonderful language, you will be surprised how connected it is
with Xcode (development environment, we will dwell on it later) excel- gives
other programming languages in which you wrote programs we are earlier.
Its simplicity, brevity and incredible possibilities are simply amazing!
The Swift language was created completely "from scratch", therefore it has a
number of features bennities:

❑ Object oriented .
Swift is an object-oriented programming language designed for
adhering to the paradigm "everything is an object". If the present
moment this statement seemed incomprehensible to you, did not
live: a little later we will return to it.
❑ Readability , economy and conciseness of the code .
Swift is simply designed to be easy to use and easy to use.
easy to understand. It has a simple and transparent syntax,
allowing you to shorten the multi-line code that you can
but, wrote in the past, to one-lines (and in some cases -
single character!) expressions.
❑ Security .
Within Swift, the developers tried to create a modern
a language that is free from vulnerabilities and does not require excessive
knowledge straining the programmer when creating applications. Swift has
strongly typed: at any given time, you know for sure
those with what type of object you are working with. Moreover, when
creating
applications, you practically do not need to think about consumable
RAM, Swift does everything for you automatically
mode.
❑ Performance .
Swift is a very young language, however, in terms of performance
of the developed programs, it is approaching (and in some
cases already overtakes) the well-known "old man" - the language of pro
grammar C ++ . These features make Swift a truly amazing language.
1

programming. Now is the time for you to dive into the world Swift: he is still
very, very young, people with significant luggage knowledge and experience
behind shoulders simply does not exist due to age
language, so in the future you can become one of them.

About the book

Using modern smartphones to address emerging

tasks became the norm. In this regard, many companies pay all
more focus on providing functional access to the services they offer via
mobile applications
(whether it is an optimized internet site that opens in a browser, or special
program). iOS is one of the most popular mobile operating systems in the
world, and in such a situation, the demand for mobile programming is
growing at an unprecedented rate. This book contains comprehensive
information for everyone learning to program in the wonderful Swift
language in order to creating your own iOS applications (as well as OS X-,
watchOS- and tvOS apps). While reading the book, you will come across not
only the theoretical information, but also a large number of practical
examples and tasks, completing which you will deepen your knowledge in
the studied material. Despite the fact that you have a long way to go, this it
will be a rewarding and very important experience. The book doesn't show
you how to write
iOS application, it is designed to learn the language itself grammar Swift. I
believe that it will give you the opportunity to master new language and soon
start writing your own apps for the App Store or Mac App Store. Having
studied the language, into the distance Then you can independently choose
for which platform
create programs - for iOS, OS X, tvOS, or watchOS.
The code examples in this book correspond to Swift version 2.1 or higher,
iOS version at least 9.1 and Xcode version at least 7.1. If you have more
new versions, do not worry, all described material with great
most likely it will work for you without any errors.
But the small possibility that Apple will change slightly
1
The corresponding tests are periodically conducted and posted on its
portal, Primate Tabs is the developer of the popular product tester
Geekbench performance.

Swift syntax does exist. If you meet with such a

tuation, I ask you to treat with understanding and inform me about it
to the email address alkal @ ya .ru .

For whom the book was written

If you answer yes to the following questions

❑ You have at least minimal knowledge of programming in

any high level language?
❑ You want to learn how to create programs for the operating room
iOS systems (for your iPhone and iPad gadget), OS X, watchOS
or tvOS?
❑ Do you prefer practical training to boring and tedious
notonic theoretical lectures?
Then this book is for you.
The material studied in the book is supported by practical homework
tasks. Together we will go from the simplest concepts to
solving the most interesting problems.
Do not be afraid, Swift will not scare you off at all (how could
Objective-C), and the process of creating applications will be very exciting
nude. And if you have an idea for an awesome app, then co-
everyone will soon be able to develop it for modern mobile
iOS system or stationary OS X.
It is very important that you do not let your hands stand idle. Test-
study all the proposed code and complete all tasks, as to learn
Programming just by reading text is not the best way. If
in the course of studying new material, you will have a desire to "play"
with the code from the listings - do it without delay. Comprehend Swift!
Do not be afraid to make mistakes, as while you are learning, mistakes are
yours.
friends. And to correct mistakes and avoid them in the future will help you
this book and the Xcode development environment (we'll talk about it later).
Remember: Becoming a Great Programmer requires
time! Be patient and study the material carefully.
Book structure
The book consists of four large parts
❑ Part I . Familiarity with Xcode . In the first part, you will start your
journey
Journey into the world of Swift, complete the most important and must

steps prior to starting to develop your own applications

niy. Learn how to create your own Apple account
ID, how to connect to the apple developers program, where to get
development environment for Swift applications, how to work with it.

❑ Part II . Basic features of Swift . After getting to know the environment

development of Xcode, allowing you to start learning the language
programming, you will learn the basic features of Swift. You
learn what syntax Swift has, what variables and con-
stants, what types of data exist and how all these
to be involved in developing programs.
❑ Part III . Fixed assets of Swift . The third part focuses on
consideration and study of the most simple, but very interesting
Swift tools. About some of them (for example, about tuples) you,
may have never heard of others (like arrays) you,
probably used in other languages as well.
❑ Part IV . Non-trivial features of Swift . At the fourth hour
methods of working with the most powerful
Other documents randomly have
different content
Bedaulat plain. It is very difficult for laden camels, and is mostly
used by footmen only. The Nishpá Pass, between Chihltan and
Zindan mountains, is four miles long up to its crest, to which it winds
by a very steady ascent. Though now covered with snow, we could
here and there trace the road made through the pass in 1839 by the
engineers of the British army. The pass is an easy one.
We reached the crest of the pass in a driving storm of hail and
sleet, and by the aneroid estimated its elevation at about 6000 feet.
The descent from the crest turns to the right down to the Dashtí
Bedaulat, leaving a forest of pistacia trees in a glen away to the left.
The forest is called Hazár Ganjí, from the number of trees—gwan in
Brahoeki, and khinjak in Pushto, being the colloquial names of the
pistacia kabulica.
The Dashtí Bedaulat is a singular hill-girt plain, perfectly level, and
perfectly bare. It is, as the name implies, an unproductive waste,
and this from the entire absence of water. It lies at the top of the
Bolán Pass, the road from which skirts its border opposite to our
position. From the Dashtí our road turned northward again, and led
down a rough and stony defile to Sariáb in the valley of Shál. To the
left the land is covered with a forest of gwan trees, and rises rapidly
to the foot of the Chihltan range, and close on our right is the Koh
Landi ridge, which separates us from the caravan road from Sariáb
to Saribolán. In front of us is the plain of Shál. It lies at a
considerably lower level, and wears a very bleak and wintry look,
with its leafless gardens and bare fields, girt around by a mountain
barrier topped with snow. At the edge of the Sariáb lands we were
met by the Náib Abdul Latíf and a party of fifteen or sixteen
horsemen—a most ragged and ruffianly set of rascals. We did not
stop for the usual ceremony of compliments, as a shower of hail
was, at the moment of our meeting, driving hard pellets with painful
violence against our faces, but hurried on to the quarters prepared
for us in a small fortified hamlet near the Lora rivulet. We arrived
there at 2.45 p.m., after a very trying march of twenty-nine miles,
and found the huts so filthy and close that we had our tents pitched
in the court of the fort as soon as the baggage came up.
 In fine weather this march would have been very enjoyable, for
the scenery, of its kind, is very wild and grand. But our experiences
have left anything but agreeable recollections of this part of our
journey. During the first part of the route we were nearly suffocated
with clouds of sand; in the pass we were for the time blinded by
driving snows, and beyond we had to face pelting hail; whilst all the
way our limbs were numbed through by a searching north wind,
whose chilling blasts require to be felt to be properly appreciated.
Next day we marched thirteen miles to Shál Kot, or the Fort of
Shál. We could not cross the Lora direct on account of the bogs and
swamps on each side its course, so had to go back over the last few
miles of yesterday’s march, and make a detour round the southern
end of the valley, till we reached the highroad from Shál to the
Bolán.
Attended by a couple of horsemen, I followed the course of the
stream for some distance, in the hopes of getting some wild duck.
But the ground was so swampy and deep in mud, I could not get
within shot. After much searching, my attendants found a spot
where we forded the stream with some trouble, and on the other
side I got a few snipe, and then rode off across the plain, and joined
our own party a few miles from Shál.
Whilst shooting down the course of the Lora, I was much amused
at the simplicity of my sole attendant, for his comrade had lagged
far behind to wash himself and horse, both having become mud-
begrimed by a fall in a bog. I was trying to light my pipe with the aid
of a burning-glass I carried in my pocket, but finding the wind was
too strong to allow of my succeeding in the attempt, I called the
man up and bid him stand perfectly still. Then standing to the
leeward, I caught a ray over the tip of his shoulder, and presently
effected my purpose. Seeing this, the man turned and looked aside
at his shoulder, and, to settle any doubts, rubbed it roughly with the
opposite hand, whilst he stared a stare of wonderment at me. I
assured him he was not on fire; that I had got mine from the sun
and not from him, and that there was no cause for alarm; and, so
saying, hurried after some wild-fowl I saw alight farther down the
stream, leaving him my horse to hold. I heard him muttering to
himself, and caught the words, “Toba! toba! chi balá
ast?”—“Repentance! repentance! what devilry is it?”
On approaching Shál we made a detour to the right to avoid a
wide extent of flooded fields, and passed an extensive graveyard,
close to which, on an open flat of ground, was pointed out to us a
walled enclosure, containing the graves of the Europeans who died
here in 1839-40. The wall is very low, but in good repair, and the
sacred spot appears to be respected by the natives. Not far from it
are the remains of Captain Bean’s house, when he was Political
Resident here. Though roofless, the shell is not very much damaged,
and might be easily restored.
In front of the fort gate a military guard was drawn up to do
honour to the General. It consisted of twenty-five men in a single
row. As we came up, the officer in command gave the words in very
plain English, “Rear rank take open order;” a signal at which three
men stepped to the front, and gave the time to the rest in
presenting arms, whilst the single gun in the citadel fired a salute.
Entering the town, we were presently housed in quarters similar to
those at Mastung.
Shál is a fortified town, and contains about twelve hundred houses
collected round a central mound on which stands the citadel. The
elevation of the citadel is much above the town, and it is the
prominent object in the valley, but its walls are very poor, and more
or less in a state of decay. By the natives it is called Shál Kot, and by
the Afghans Kwatta, or “the little fort,” whence our Quetta. The
valley of Shál is very similar to that of Mastung, and, like it, drains
westward to Shorawak.
The garrison of Shál consists of one hundred infantry, almost all of
whom are Afghans, with a few other mercenaries. There are besides
fifty horsemen, and a dozen artillerymen for the one gun they have
here. These troops are under the command of the Náib or governor,
Abdul Latíf, who on emergency can collect a force of about five
thousand íljárí, or militia, from the neighbouring hills, armed with
matchlock, sword, and shield.
Shál is described as a delightful residence in summer, and is said
to possess a temperate and salubrious climate, in which respect it
resembles the valley of Mastung. The whole valley is covered with
villages and corn-fields and gardens, through the midst of which
flows the Lora rivulet; but the soil is almost everywhere impregnated
—with nitre and soda-salts.
The scenery around is very fine, and affords a wide and varied
field for the pencil of the artist, particularly at this season, when the
rugged heights of the greater mountains are deeply covered with
snow. Towards the east, the valley is closed by the lesser ranges of
Siyah Pusht and Murdár. To the south are the Landi ridge and
Chihltan mountain. From the latter projects the low range of Karassa
which sweeps round the valley towards the Muchilagh range,
forming its western boundary; and between them is a gap that leads
into the Dulay valley and plain of Shorawak. To the north, the valley
is overlooked by the great Tokátú peak and Zarghún range. These
last are occupied by the Domarr section of the Kákarr tribe. They are
described as the most savage and hardy of all the Afghan
mountaineers, and have proved quite irreclaimable by either the
government of Kabul or that of Calát. They often give trouble on this
border, and formerly used to plunder the country as far as the
Nishpá Pass, in collusion with their brethren of the Bánzai section
occupying the hills slopes of Shál. They harry the road into Peshín by
Tal Chhotiyálí, so much so, that it is now deserted as a caravan
route. This is the route that was proposed as one we might journey
by, when it was found we could not proceed by the Bolán Pass; but,
thanks to the decision of Sir William Merewether, we were directed
into a safer route, and thus saved from falling into the clutches of
these utter savages.
There is a road direct from Shál over the hills between Tokátú and
Zarghún to the Tal Chhotiyálí route, but it is seldom used, owing to
the risks from predatory Domarr, through whose territories it passes.
These people have no large villages, but are scattered over the hills
in caves and sheds with their flocks and sheep. During the winter,
they descend to the lower valleys, where they pass the time in their
black tents. They cultivate only sufficient ground for the supply of
their wants, and for the most part live on the produce of their flocks,
such as milk, butter, flesh, and the inspissated cheese known as
kroot. From the goats’ hair they manufacture ropes and the black
tents called kizhdí, and from the sheep’s wool they make the thick
felt cloaks called kosai, which, with a pair of loose cotton trousers,
constitute the whole winter dress of most of the people. The Domarr
are said to muster nearly four thousand families.
A curious custom is said to prevail amongst them. In the spring
and summer evenings, the young men and maidens of adjoining
camps assemble on the hillsides, and shouting “Pír murr nadai,
jwandai dai” (“The old man is not dead, he lives”), romp about till—I
suppose on the principle of natural selection—the opposite sexes
pair off in the favouring darkness, and chase each other amongst
the trees and rocks, till summoned home by the calls of their
respective parents. It does not appear that the custom leads to the
contraction of matrimonial alliances amongst the performers, though
to its observance is attributed the hardiness and populousness of the
tribe.
During the afternoon, a messenger arrived from Cushlác with
letters from the Afghan Commissioner for General Pollock, intimating
his arrival there with a military escort for our safe conduct to
Kandahar. It is therefore arranged that we proceed in the morning,
apparently much to the relief of our host, the Náib Abdul Latíf, who
seemed apprehensive lest the Afghan troops should cross the border
into the district under his charge on the plea of meeting us, and thus
unsettle the minds of his subjects with the idea that they were to be
annexed to the Kabul dominions, between which and the territories
of the Khán of Calát the Cushlác Lora is the present boundary.
Originally both Shál and Mastung with Shorawak formed part of
the kingdom erected by Sháh Ahmad, Durrani. They were
subsequently made over to Nasír Khán, chief of Balochistan, in
return for his allegiance and maintenance of a contingent of troops
in the interest of the Afghan sovereign. These districts are still
considered by the Afghans as portion of their country, though they
remain under the rule of the Khán of Calát; and in 1864, when
Sherdil Khán usurped the government from the present chief,
Khudádád Khán, the Governor of Kandahar made an attempt to
reannex them to his province, but in this he was thwarted by the
action of the British authorities, and the restoration of Khudádád
Khán to his rightful government.
 CHAPTER IV.
30th January.—Snow fell during the night, and this morning covers
the whole plain to the depth of about six inches. We set out from
Shál Kot at 9.10 a.m., under a salute from the fort as on arrival, and
proceeded across the plain northwards to the foot of Tokátú
mountain, where we came to the village of Kiroghar. This is a
collection of some sixty detached huts on the stony hill skirt, and is
about seven miles from the fort. It is occupied by the Bánzai section
of the great Kákarr tribe. They have small colonies all along the hill
skirts on the northern and eastern limits of the valley, and are said
to number nearly five thousand families. They have been settled in
these tracts for the past five generations, but were only properly
reduced to the subjection of the Khán of Calát last year, previous to
which they used to cause infinite loss and trouble by their plundering
excursions on the Taghaghi Lak and Nishpá Pass, between Shál and
Mastung. No caravan in those days was safe from their attacks. Last
year the Náib led an expedition against them, and secured some of
their chief men as hostages, and they now confine themselves to
their own limits.
The Kákarr tribe, to which they belong, is one of the most
numerous and powerful of the Afghan clans. They occupy all the hill
country between this and the limits of Ghazni, where their border
touches those of the Waziris and Ghilzais. To the eastward, their
territories extend up to the base of Koh Kassi of the Sulemán range.
To the westward, between Toba Márúf and Tokátú, they share the
hill slopes that drain to the Kandahar plain and Peshín valley with the
Achakzai and Spin Tarin tribes respectively.
The strength of the Kákarr tribe is variously estimated, but they
are probably not less than fifty thousand families. They are mostly a
pastoral people, but some are settled in the valleys of the country as
cultivators of the soil, whilst those to the westward are engaged in
trade, and almost exclusively collect the asafœtida imported into
India. For this purpose their camps spread over the Kandahar plain
up to the confines of Herat.
We stopped a few minutes at Kiroghar to procure guides, for the
snow had obliterated all traces of the road. None of the villagers,
however, seemed at all inclined to help us in the difficulty. The Náib,
Abdul Latíf, took this want of attention on their part as a personal
affront, and very quickly lost control over his temper. His rotund
figure visibly swelled with wrath as he peremptorily summoned the
head man to his presence. Three or four horsemen at once
scampered off to one of the huts, and presently Malik Jalál (the head
man), accompanied by half-a-dozen men, were seen to emerge, and
leisurely measure their steps across the snow to where the Náib
stood.
This quiet indifference was more than the Náib could stand. He
bounced about in his saddle in a tempest of anger, and, flashing his
bright eyes from side to side, poured out a torrent of anathemas,
and vowed a sharp vengeance nothing short of annihilation of the
dog-begotten breed of Bánzai. At this moment I happened to inquire
from one of the escort standing near me whether some fine
márkhor, or wild goat horns, that adorned an adjoining hut, were
the produce of the mountain above us, but before he could reply,
the infuriate Náib’s mandate went forth to bring them to us; and in
less time than it has taken to relate the occurrence, half-a-dozen of
the largest horns were torn from their attachments, and laid on the
snow before us. We hardly had time to examine them before the
head man and his following came up, looking as unconcerned and
independent as their circumstances entitled them to be. There was
no thought on either side of the customary exchange of salutations,
nor was the salám alaikum, and its reply, wa alaikum salám, uttered.
Instead thereof, the Náib turned on the Malik with a volley of abuse,
and demanded why he was not on the road to meet him. “Where,”
said he, “is the chilam? (pipe of friendship). Is this the sort of
hospitality you show to your governor?” The unfortunate Malik was
not allowed time to plead any excuses, but was summarily
dismissed, and two of his men pushed to the front to point out the
road. “Dishonoured wretch! dog!” said the Náib, “go and prepare for
my return. I shall be your guest to-night.” So saying, he ordered a
couple of troopers to stay behind and see that an entertainment
suited to himself and retinue was ready against their return, and our
party proceeded forward.
In exchange for a couple of rupees, the owner of the horns
willingly carried a couple of the largest pairs to our camp at Cushlác,
and I subsequently sent them to Peshawar from Kandahar, for the
purpose of comparing them with those of the Himalayan animal. I
have since done so, but without discovering any appreciable
difference.
From Kiroghar we proceeded westward along the stony skirt of
Tokátú for a couple of miles, and then winding round the mountain
by a considerable rise to the northward, at about another mile came
to a clump of trees at the spring-head of a strong stream issuing
from the side of the hill and flowing down to the plain behind us.
We halted here awhile to await the arrival of the Afghan
Commissioner, whom we saw in the distance advancing towards us
with a troop of cavalry from the Murghí Pass in our front. Meanwhile
the Náib Abdul Latíf took the opportunity to express his regret that
he had not been able to entertain us more hospitably owing to the
rapidity of our movements and the unfavouring condition of the
elements. He assured us of his admiration of the British
Government; that he considered all Englishmen his friends; and that
he was proud to remember his association with Colonel Stacey and
Captain Beam so long ago as 1839-40—names that are still
remembered with gratitude and good-will in many a household in
Shál and Mastung.
Whilst waiting here, I emptied my gun at a couple of red-legged
rooks flying overhead. One of them with outstretched wings came
down in a very graceful and slow pirouette, and fell dead at my feet;
the other glided down very quickly in an oblique line, and fell against
the rocks a hundred yards or so off. I was speculating on the nature
of the causes that produced such different modes of descent, when
my attention was diverted to our Afghan friends.
The cavalry were drawn up in a double line on one side of the
road about five hundred yards off, whilst the Afghan Commissioner,
Saggid Núr Muhammad Sháh—whom I shall henceforth always
speak of as “the Saggid”—accompanied by three horsemen, rode
down to where we stood. At fifty yards he dismounted, and we
stepped forward to meet him. As we raised our hats, he doffed his
turban with both hands and made a low bow, and then replacing the
costly Kashmir shawl, he embraced us successively Afghan fashion
with sincere cordiality, repeating the while the usual string of
salutations and complimentary inquiries. This ceremony over, we
mounted, and proceeded up the slope, the Náib Abdul Latíf
accompanying us with only three or four attendant horsemen.
As we came up to the cavalry, they saluted, and then followed in
rear of our procession. They are a very fine set of men, with bold
independent bearing, but with thoroughly friendly looks. They were
excellently mounted, and the general superiority of their equipment
quite took us by surprise. They wore blue hussar-jackets, top-boots,
and scarlet busbies, and altogether looked a very serviceable set of
men.
Before we reached the top of the Murghí Pass, about two and a
half miles from the spring, we were caught in a snowstorm, which
completely obscured the hills around, whilst the flakes, adhering to
our beards and clothing, presently gave our whole party a
grotesquely uncouth and hoary look. From the pass we descended
through a narrow defile into the Peshín valley or district, near a
couple of fine springs issuing from the rocks on our right. They are
led over the plain in deep cuts for purposes of irrigation.
I was here so numbed by the cold, that I was glad of an excuse to
dismount and warm myself by a trudge over the snow; so I followed
down the course of one of the water-cuts in the direction of a couple
of wild ducks I had marked down upon it. I had not proceeded far,
gun in hand, when they rose from a pool on the other side of the
stream. They both fell to a right and left shot, at only a few paces
from each other. I was considering how I might get them, when a
trooper, who had followed me, urged his horse forward to a gap in
the bank a little way off. The horse very naturally refused to slide
down the gap into the water, and I told the rider to desist from
urging him, remarking that the water was evidently deep, and he
would certainly get wet. But the Afghan’s spirit was roused by the
sport, and he knew he was observed by his comrades. “My horse
can swim, and that shot is worth a wetting,” he said, as he struck his
heels into the horse’s flanks, and forced him into the stream. The
plunge was so sudden, that the horse nearly lost his footing, but the
trooper, cleverly recovering him, brought him out on the further bank
through water half-way up the saddle-flaps, picked up the birds, and
recrossed without misadventure. His spirited conduct excited our
admiration, but amongst his comrades the shot was the theme of
applause. The one was to them a matter of everyday occurrence,
the other they had rarely if ever before witnessed. With us it was
just the reverse. The one was an act seldom necessitated, the other
only an ordinary occurrence. And thus it is that acts are valued out
of all proportion to their real merits by the mere force of habitude,
both by governments and individuals, whether civilised or
uncivilised.
At about fourteen miles from Shál we crossed the Cushlác Lora, a
small stream flowing on a pebbly bottom between high banks of
shingle and clay. It marks the boundary between the territories of
the Amir of Kabul and the Khán of Calát.
At this place Náib Abdul Latíf took leave of us, and returned to sup
with his Kiroghar subjects. I can fancy that in him they found
anything but an easily pleased guest. His temper had been ruffled by
the morning’s mishap, and it was not improved by the inclement
weather he had been exposed to in our company, for his beard was
frozen into thick tangles, and a row of pendant icicles fringed the
edge of his turban, whilst his crestfallen features betokened
discontent, and an eagerness in his eyes spoke of a desire to wreak
his vengeance on somebody or other. I fear his Bánzai hosts must
have had a trying time of it on this memorable evening.
Beyond the Lora rivulet we came to a company of regular Afghan
infantry drawn up on the roadside. They are a remarkably fine set of
fellows, and were evidently picked men, meant to make an
impression on us. They saluted as we passed on our way to the
Saggid’s camp, a little beyond the Shahjahán village.
Here we alighted at a tent prepared for us by the Saggid, and
were hospitably regaled with tea and refreshments, our host joining
us in the repast. The tent was richly furnished with thick Persian
carpets and Herat felts, and was comfortably warmed by a large dish
of live coal set on a movable platform in the centre. The shelter and
comfort provided for us were most grateful to our numbed
sensations and frozen limbs. We had marched the last five miles in a
temperature of 22° Fah., with driving snow beating against us nearly
the whole way, and, but for our friend’s forethought, must have
endured a hard time of it till our own tents arrived and could be
pitched. It was three p.m. before we reached the Afghan camp, and
our baggage did not come up till three hours later, having marched a
distance of sixteen miles over snow.
31st January.—Halt at Cushlác, weather-bound. The thermometer
sunk to 10° Fah. during the night, but this morning the sun shone
out in a clear sky, and brought about a rapid thaw. In the afternoon,
however, clouds again overcast the sky, and at three p.m. snow
commenced to fall, and continued all night, with a keen driving north
wind. The fire inside our tent melted the snow on its roof, and as it
trickled from the sides it formed great icicles upwards of three feet
in length, and as thick as a man’s arm above.
Our Afghan escort is sheltered in neat rows of comfortable little
tents floored with thick felts, on which the men sleep. The horses,
too, are completely encased in great rolls of thick felt clothing, which
effectually protects them from the wind and weather.
 1st February.—At seven a.m. the thermometer stood at 11° Fah. in
the open air. The sky was clear, and a hard frost prevailed. We set
out from Cushlác at 8.35 a.m., and marched eighteen miles to
Hykalzai on the plain of Peshín, the ground covered with snow for
most of the way. At two miles we crossed the Surmaghzi Tangí or
pass, a low ridge of red marly mounds, which, but for the hard frost,
would have proved very miry and slippery.
Beyond the pass we descended to the Peshín valley, which here
presents a great open plain of undulating surface, here and there,
where free from snow, showing a red clay soil, much furrowed by
the action of water. At a mile beyond Hydarzai we halted half-an-
hour near the village of Yár Muhammad, at a kárez of the same
name, and had a fire lighted to warm ourselves whilst the baggage
passed on. Whilst so engaged, Yár Muhammad himself, the founder
of the village and kárez (water conduit) bearing his name, with half-
a-dozen villagers, came up, and with genuine Afghan freedom
seated themselves amongst us. He was a rough old man, with blear-
eyes and snuff-stained nose. Without taking any notice of us, he
bluntly inquired of the Saggid who and what we were. On being told
our errand, “That’s all right,” he replied; “our book tells us that the
Christians are to be our friends in the hour of adversity; but it’s well
for them that they are travelling this way under your protection.” The
Saggid laughed, and said, “Such are Afghans! they put me to
shame;” and his secretary, to prevent any further disclosures of
sentiment on the part of our visitor, jocosely observed, “You talk too
fast, old man: your speech is understood,” tossing his head in my
direction. The old man gave me a full stare, and inquired where I
had learned Pushto. A minute later he put up his face towards me,
asked me to look at his eyes, and give him some medicine to restore
their failing sight.
From this place we proceeded over an undulating tract furrowed
by water-cuts, and crossed from north-east to south-west by a
succession of red clay banks, and beyond them reached the level
plain. Here we crossed a branch of the Surkháb rivulet, and passing
the ruins of two extensive villages, destroyed in 1841 by the army
under General Nott, camped midway between Hykalzai and
Khudáedádzai or Khwáezai at 3.10 p.m.
The whole plain is a sheet of snow, from beneath which here and
there crop out red banks of miry clay. The general surface is dotted
all over with numerous clusters of black tents, four or five in each, of
the nomad Tarins. On the plain to the north-east is seen the
castellated mound of Sea Calá or Red Fort, now in ruins. Beyond it
are the large villages of Old and New Bazár, and by them flows the
Surkháb or Red River, a tributary of the Peshín Lora. To the
northward the valley is bounded by the Khwájah Amrán range,
which runs north-east towards the Sufed Koh, which it joins to the
eastward of Ghazni. Its several spurs to the southward have
different names, which are, from west to east, as pointed out to us,
Khojah, Arnbí, Toba, and Surkháb. To the north of the Toba spur is
the Sehna Dág or flat of the Sehn section of Kákarrs. It is described
as an elevated tableland covered with rich pastures. Over it is a road
to the Zhob valley of the Battezai Kákarrs. In the Surkháb hills rises
the river of that name, and between it and Tokátú is a low range of
hills, over which is the direct road from this to Dera Gházi Khán by
Tal Chhotiyálí. All these hills, as well as the plain, are now covered
with snow, but in summer they are covered with rich pasture, and
swarm with the flocks and camps of the nomad Afghans of the Tarin
and Kákarr tribes.
The Tarin tribe comprises four great divisions, viz., the Abdáls or
Durranis, the Tor Tarins, the Spin Tarins, and the Zard Tarins or
Zarrins. The first occupy Kandahar and the valleys to its north-west.
The second are settled in Peshín, of which they hold four-fifths, and
in the Arghasán district south of the river Tarnak. The Spin Tarins
occupy the Surkháb hills and the valleys at their eastern and western
bases. And the Zarrins are settled in the valley of Zhob and in part of
the Arghasán district. All except the Abdáls are mostly nomads, who
retire with their flocks to the hills in summer, and move down to the
plains for the winter. From their camps which we saw on the plain—
and they were remarkably distinct on its white surface, the tents
being all black—their numbers are nothing like what they are
estimated.
Throughout this march the air was extremely cold. Icicles
repeatedly formed on our beards and mustaches, and hung in long
pendants from the necks of our camels. Our hands and feet were
painfully benumbed for want of efficient protection. Several of our
Afghan escort, I observed, wore thick felt casings inside their
capacious top-boots.
On the march, before reaching Hydarzai, we passed a couple of
khinjak trees over a roadside shrine, at the foot of a low mound.
Their trunks were studded with innumerable iron nails and wooden
pegs driven into the bark—the tokens by which pilgrim-visitors ratify
their vows to the saint.
From Hykalzai we marched next day fifteen miles to Aranbí Kárez.
Our route was north-westerly across the plain, at this time
everywhere covered with snow. The surface is marked here and
there by the traces of cultivation, but for the most part is occupied
by a thin scrub of wormwood, saltworts, and camel-thorn. At about
half-way we crossed the Lora rivulet, which flowed in a slow stream
twenty feet wide and two feet deep. Its bottom is soft and sandy,
and abounds in quicksands. The channel of the river is much wider
than its actual bed, and is formed by high shelving banks of clay.
Over these are several narrow paths down to the river. We found
them very slippery, and many of our escort and baggage animals fell
in the descent, but without any material injury.
This Lora, or the Peshín Lora as it is called, drains the north-
western portion of the plain, and receives as a tributary the Surkháb,
which drains its eastern tracts. The united streams then flow over
the plain south-westward towards Shorawak, being joined en route
by the Cushlác Lora and the Shál Lora. From Shorawak the river
flows northwestward towards the Helmand, but is lost in the sands
of the desert before it reaches that river. None of the Loras are much
utilised for purposes of irrigation in their own valleys, but on
reaching Shorawak their united stream is almost exhausted by the
quantities drawn off from it for the fields. Shál and Peshín are
irrigated by kárez streams and springs from the mountains, but the
former are much more fertile than the latter. In Peshín one misses
the gardens and trees so plentiful in Shál, and finds instead a wide
pasture tract more or less uncultivated, and, in place of villages,
dotted with nomad camps. Most of the irrigated land in Peshín is in
the hands of the Saggids, who have for many generations been
settled in this valley. They pay one-third the produce of their lands in
kind to Government as revenue. The nomad Tarins, who hold the
unirrigated tracts, pay only one-fifth to Government. The soil of
Peshín is a red stiff clay, highly charged with salts of sorts. In the
tract between Aranbí Kárez and Sra Calá quantities of alimentary salt
are obtained from the soil, and sold in the Kandahar market at one
and a half to two rupees per man of eighty pounds. The salt is
dissolved in great pits filled with water. The clear solution is then
filled into earthen pots and boiled down to a granular mass, which
takes the form of the pot.
Peshín, owing to its inferior soil, is not a fertile valley, but corn is
grown in quantity sufficient to meet the wants of its people. The
seed is first cast over the surface and then ploughed over. In
Shorawak the seed is sown by means of a kind of drill. It consists of
a stiff leather funnel fixed to the tail of the plough, and furnished
with a series of holes at the bottom. From this the grain drops into
the furrow as it is cut by the plough.
The kangaroo-rat or jerboa, here called khanrai, abounds in
Peshín, and is trapped for the sake of its fur. The dalkafak, a species
of tree-marten with a short tail, is also found here and in the hills
around.
After crossing the Lora, the Saggid left us to pay a visit to his
father’s family at Pitao, a collection of five villages at the foot of the
hills a few miles to the right of our road. His own sister was amongst
them, and as he had not seen them for more than five years, he
could not pass the home of his youth without going to see its
inmates. He was not long about his business, for he rejoined us
before we reached camp; and to our expressions of surprise at his
haste, and hopes that he had not curtailed his visit on our behalf, he
replied, “No; I only went to see my sister, and to come away at
once. My uncles, aunts, nephews, nieces, and cousins there on my
father’s side alone exceed two hundred in number; and, to tell you
the truth, I am afraid to go amongst them, for they always want
some token whereby to keep me in their memories.”
Snow and sleet showered upon us nearly throughout this march,
and the hills around were completely obscured by heavy clouds. On
the line of march we passed a number of nomad camps of the
Kákarr and Tor Tarin tribes, and some hundreds of their black tents
dotted the surface, in clusters of four or five together, on either hand
of our route. We dismounted at one of these tents or kizhdí to
examine the interior, and were surprised to find how comfortable,
roomy, clean, and warm it was, notwithstanding that camels, men,
goats, sheep, and poultry were sheltered under one roof with their
human owners, and sacks of grain and other provisions. The tent we
examined was about thirty feet long by fifteen wide. The centre was
supported by slim poles seven feet high, and the sides by others
four feet high, and across them were passed light ribs of wood. Over
this framework was stretched a single sheet of tough and waterproof
black haircloth, woven in lengths a couple of yards wide, and sewn
together. The interior was divided into two portions by a row of
sacks of corn. The one was excavated to a depth of two feet for the
camels and oxen, &c.; the other was smooth, and clean swept. In its
centre was a circular pit for fire, for the smoke of which there was
no outlet except at the openings at either end of the tent. Around
the sides were spread coarse woollen druggets and piles of the
household property, and at the end opposite were set a couple of
cots. The family we found to consist of three women, two men, and
two boys. The women were much fairer than the men, and, with
their general look of hardiness, were well featured, displaying much
more character in their faces than the men. They were all large-
limbed and robust people, and certainly lead the healthiest and
happiest of lives.
 Snow ceased to fall in the afternoon, and towards sunset the sky
cleared, and we got a good view of the country around. Near our
camp are the villages of Utmankhel, Torkhel, and Majai, all belonging
to the Tor Tarins. Along the foot of the hills extending to the north-
eastward are Pitao (a collection of five hamlets close together),
Semzai and Alizai, all held by Saggids. They lie at the foot of Toba
mountain. To their eastward are seen old and new Bazár and Sraculá
on the plain.
3d February.—We left Aranbí Kárez at 8.15 a.m., in a heavy fall of
snow, and proceeding north-west for about three miles, then
diverged towards the hills on our right to avoid the heavy ground on
the plain. We followed the stony hill skirt of Aranbí, a spur from the
Toba mountain, for a short distance to the westward, and then
passing round some low mounds ending on the plain, turned to the
north. Here the clouds broke and the sun shone out, and we
presently got an extensive view of the whole plain, on which towards
the south are scattered many villages, remarkable for the absence of
trees about them. To the west, in the Dihsúri glen, we got a full view
of the populous village of Abdullah Khán, surrounded by fruit
gardens. This is the chief town of the Achakzai tribe, and during the
Afghan war was held by Lieutenant Bosanquet with a detachment of
troops.
Proceeding, we crossed two wide water-courses coming down
from the Melán and Máchika glens on our right, and entered the
Khojak darra or glen, which winds up to the foot of the Khojak Pass.
It is narrow, and flanked on each side by low ridges of fissile slate.
Its upper part is occupied by a forest of khinjak trees, and in its
lower it receives, on the right and left respectively, the drainage from
the Sanzali and Shamsikhán glens, in which we spied a number of
kizhdí camps of the Achakzai.
The snow at Aranbí was only five or six inches deep. In this glen it
was in some parts over three feet in depth, and where we camped,
at the very foot of the ascent, in a gully called Churza (little gully), it
was twenty inches deep. The last part of the march was most
laborious, owing to the cattle sinking in the deep snow, and it was
besides very trying on account of the painful glare from the snow
under a bright sun. None of us had our spectacles at hand, and the
only way I could at all bear the exposure was by hanging my
handkerchief, quadruply folded, in front of my eyes. The intense
reflection from the snow was exquisitely painful, even with the eyes
closely blinked, and produced a copious flow of tears, and left a
headache for the rest of the day. We arrived at Churza at 12.35 p.m.,
but the baggage did not all come up till late in the afternoon, though
the distance was only twelve miles. A party of Achakzai cleared away
the snow from a small piece of ground twenty feet square, to enable
us to pitch a tent, but our escort and camp-followers passed the
night on the snow, which here lay between twenty inches and two
feet deep. The space was very narrow, and all were much crowded
together. Our Afghan escort, I observed, spread their thick felts on
the snow, and went to sleep rolled up in their fur cloaks.
The hill above Churza is called Puras, and it is crossed by three
paths, all very steep, and difficult at the best of times, but
particularly so now. To the west, at a short distance, is a very
narrow gully, down which flows a tiny little stream. This is the usual
pass, but it was now blocked with drifted snow. A party of Achakzai
were consequently sent off to clear a way through it for us, and next
day we crossed the Khojak by it. The pass had been improved by
the British army in 1839, but its difficulties are still many and great.
4th February.—Crossed the Khojak range to Chaman Choki—
distance, six miles. At 7 a.m., our baggage with the infantry escort
commenced moving out of camp up the hillside. In three hours and
a half the last of it had left camp, and half-an-hour later we
ourselves followed with the cavalry escort. The ascent was by a
steep and narrow gully between close-set and almost vertical banks
of slaty rock, which only admitted of our horses proceeding in single
file. There was not so much snow as I expected, and what there was
had been trodden down by the baggage. In half-an-hour we reached
the summit of the ridge, and were at once enveloped in a dense mist
of snowflakes, slowly settling on the ground, and completely
obscuring the prospect. We stood here a few minutes to allow the
baggage cattle to get out of the way, and then led our horses down
the other side by a steep and slippery path trodden in the snow. In
fifteen minutes we arrived at the foot of the steep, where
commences a forest of khinjak trees, as on the other side. This place
is called Cháokáh, and from it the descent is by a gentle slope down
a long glen drained by a shallow gully. As we descend, the snow
lessens, and at the lower end of the glen disappears altogether,
disclosing the ground, which is here of a bluish-brown colour, and
made up of loose splinters of slate. Beyond the glen we passed
between a succession of hummocks, and arrived at Chaman Choki,
which, as the name implies, is a turfy hollow watered by a good
spring.
The weather proved very unfavourable all day. Snow, sleet, and
hail succeeded each other till late in the afternoon, when the sun
struggled out from the clouds for a brief interval, preparatory to
setting for the night. Between four and five o’clock a violent
hailstorm swept over our camp and whitened the ground.
Our baggage did not all come into camp till the afternoon was well
advanced, but the passage was effected without loss or injury, and
the snow was warm compared with the bleak and barren highlands
of Calát and Cushlác. Probably this was owing to the absence of the
north wind. The Saggid’s arrangements for crossing the Khojak were
well made, and the result most satisfactory. By sending the baggage
ahead of our own party, we avoided leaving any of it behind, and
moreover deprived the Achakzai of any opportunity for pilfering or
plundering, at either of which practices they are very ready when
there is a chance of their effecting a safe retreat with the booty.
By the aneroid barometer, I estimated the elevation at Churza, on
the southern foot of the Khojak Pass, to be 7000 feet; at the top of
the pass, 7410 feet; and at Cháokáh, on the northern foot of the
pass, at 5600 feet. The aneroid indications at each respectively were
22·82, 22·47, and 24·00. At the top of the pass there was very little
snow—in fact, the slate was apparent in many places; on the slopes
were seen some khinjak trees and a number of shrubby bushes,
mostly of a prickly nature. In spring the whole range is covered with
excellent pasture, and produces great quantities of rhubarb, which is
here called psháe. Its stalks are preserved in the dried state under
the name of íráe, and they are used as a relish, cooked up with
meat, &c.
5th February.—The day broke with a clear sky, and we got a
splendid view of the wide sweeping plains of Kandahar, and the
mountain ranges bounding it to the north and east.
We left Chaman at 8.30 a.m., and marched twenty-two miles to
Gátaí. Our route was north-westerly down a gentle slope on to the
undulating sweep of the plain, everywhere covered with rich pasture
just commencing to sprout above the surface. Here and there are
scattered a few camps of the Ashezai and Adozai sections of the
Achakzai tribe, and at short intervals are the shallow water-runs that
drain the plain to the westward by the Kadani river. We crossed this
little stream at about half-way, and beyond it came to the isolated
Baldak rock or hill, which marks the boundary here between the
lands of the Núrzai and Achakzai.
We halted here a while to view the prospect behind us. The whole
range of the Khwájah Amrán, running north-east and south-west,
was seen to great advantage, and presented a very beautiful sight.
The whole range formed a vast ridge of snow, here and there
thrown up into higher masses, and all set upon a dark foundation of
slate rocks, on which the snow-line, by contrast of colour, was
marked with singular distinctness and regularity.
The most prominent peak, about the centre of the range, is the
Nárín mountain, held by the Kákarrs. It is the source of the Kadani
stream (we have just crossed it), which, after a south-westerly
course over the plain, is turned to the northward by the sandhills of
the desert, and, under the name of Dorí, joins the Arghasán near
Dih Hájí.
 To the south-west of Nárín is the Toba mountain, and between the
two are the Sehna Dúgúna, or tablelands of the Sehn Kákarrs. The
continuation south-west from Toba, is the Khwájah Amrán, which
ends at Shorawak, where is the shrine whence the range takes its
name. Over it are the Khojak, Rogháni, and Ghwája passes. The two
first are kotals or “hill passes,” and are very difficult; the last is a
darra or “defile,” and is easily traversed by laden camels; it is the
road usually taken by caravans. To the west of Khwájah Amrán is the
plain of Shorawak, held by the Bárech tribe. It is continuous with the
Kandahar plain, and both are separated from the desert by a high
coast-line of sand-cliffs. Though I could gain no confirmation of my
views from the natives, I am inclined to think that the Peshín and
Shál Loras, which are now lost in the sands of Shorawak, were
formerly directed in one stream northerly by the desert cliffs, and
ultimately joined the Kalani, or its continuation the Dorí, because the
Kandahar plain is so much lower than the country in which these
rivers rise. By the barometric indications I recorded on the march,
the elevation of Shál is estimated at 5675 feet, Cushlác at 5150, and
Hykalzai at 4800 feet. These three Loras unite before they reach
Shorawak, and if their common stream, as I suppose, took a
northerly course thence to Kandahar, it would descend several
hundred feet, for the elevation of Kandahar is estimated at 3190 feet
only.
To the north-east of Nárín is the Márúf mountain, and north-east
of this again is the Sámai mountain, due south of Caláti Ghilzá. It is
occupied by the Hotab section of the Ghilzai tribe, whose clans
extend from this right up to Kabul and the Sufed Koh. The Arghasán
river rises by two branches in the Márúf and Sámai hills.
After a halt of three-quarters of an hour, we proceeded over a
wide plain, here and there cultivated, and traversed in all directions
by decayed and dry water-cuts, and at three p.m. arrived at the foot
of a great granite rock, where we camped, near some springs
issuing at the foot of an opposite granite hill. We ascended the hill
near our camp for a view of the country, but on reaching its summit
were overtaken by a thick mist and hailstorm, which completely
obscured the distant view.
The general character of the plain, however, was clearly visible. It
presents a wide surface, stretching east and west, and traversed by
irregular broken ridges of bare rock, coursing from north-east to
south-west. At distant intervals on the plain are seen a few domed
villages, and two or three forts. But the most remarkable feature of
the scene is the entire absence of trees—not even a shrub is to be
seen. Even the nomad camps are few and far between. In the
summer months the heat here must be, as it is described, quite
unbearable. The plain is then a parched desert.
The springs near our camp are said to have made their
appearance above the surface only three years ago. Previous to that
time this place was entirely without water, and was not used as a
camping-stage. The old stage was at Dand Gulai, at the foot of a hill
five or six miles away to the south-west. But its waters having dried
up, it is now deserted as a camping-ground.
From Gátaí we marched fourteen miles in a north-westerly
direction, and camped at Mel Mándah, or the Mel ravine, near a
kárez on its bank. A most trying north-wester blew against us with
considerable force all the way, and chilled us to the very bones. For
the first ten miles our route was across a great plain, bounded
towards the west by the cliffs of the desert, and on the east by the
range of hills connecting the Nárín and Márúf mountains. The rest of
our route was over a succession of undulating downs, backed in an
irregular and broken line, from north-east to south-west, by a series
of bare rugged hills. Throughout the march we saw no signs of
habitation or cultivation; not a village nor a tent was seen on the
whole route, nor even a single tree, nor any sign of cattle; nor did
we see any water, except a brackish little pool about the tenth mile,
where the road rises from the plain on to the downs. About a mile
east of our camp is the Hardo hill, on which are said to be the
remains of ancient walls. Its ridge separates the Kadani plain from
that of Mulhid to its north, which extends north-east to the Arghasán
river. The Mel Mándah, at this time a dry stony ravine, drains Hardo
hill westward into the Dorí river.
Our next stage was eighteen miles to Mákú Kárez, near the village
of that name. Our route led north-westerly across the Mulhid plain.
From it we got a good view of the Hardo ridge, and saw the outline
of walls on its crest. There are said to be some extensive reservoirs
here, excavated in the solid rock. Our companions could tell us
nothing of these ruins, more than that they were once the
habitations of the káfir (infidel) who in ancient times occupied this
country. Probably they are Buddhist remains.
At about half-way we arrived at the top of the Barghanah Pass, in
the ridge of the same name, and halted a few minutes to view the
country. Away to the south, through gaps between the scattered
ridges intersecting the plain, were seen bits of the Khojak range in
its snowy drapery. To the eastward was seen the great snowy mass
of Sámai, and to its north-east appeared the Súrghar, or Redhill
peak, whose offshoots are continuous with those of the Sufed Koh.
Both Súrghar and Sámai drain westward into the Arghasán, which is
formed by tributaries from these and the Márúf hills. To the east,
Súrghar drains direct to the Gomal river and Sámai, by means of its
tributary the Zhob stream. A great snowy spur is seen to project
south-east from Sámai. It is said by our attendants to join the Zhob
peak, and separate the Zhob and Bori valleys as a watershed, all to
the north of it draining into the Gomal by the Zhob rivulet, and all to
the south of it draining into the Nárí river by the Záo and Síbí
streams, and tributaries from the Toba mountain. The Khwájah
Amrán range and its continuation north-east in fact form a great
watershed between the drainage of the Indus and the Helmand.
To the northward the view was obstructed by the Barghanah hills,
but to the west and south-west were seen the red sand-cliffs of the
desert, through gaps in the intervening ridges, right down to the
northern limits of Shorawak. At the top of the pass the aneroid
figured 25·38, thus giving its elevation at about 4100 feet. From the
pass the road leads along the course of a great ravine, wide and
stony, and here and there retaining pools of water, round which
grew the tamarisk, and a tall reed called durma at Peshawar and
darga here. After winding along the ravine for a few miles, we rose
out of it on to the Barghanah plain, and camped on a good kárez
stream at the little village of Mákú—elevation, 3500 feet; air, sharp
and frosty; no wind, fortunately. About five miles to the west of our
camp is the Tangí ridge of hills. On its further side is the Fathullah
camping-ground on the old road between Kandahar and Peshín.
From Mákú we marched sixteen miles to Mund Hissár, a short
distance from the river Tarnak. Our route was northerly across an
undulating plain closed to the east-north-east by the Márúf
mountain, which projects forwards from the Sámai range to the
Arghasán river. Márúf was the favourite residence of Sháh Ahmad,
Durrani, the founder of the Afghan monarchy. He had a strong fort
here, in which his family used to reside, and in which he himself
ended his eventful career. Sháh Ahmad for many years suffered from
a foul disease, which destroyed the nose and palate by ulceration,
and during the latter years of his life he used to wear a silver plate
to mask the hideous deformity. When he felt his end approaching,
he had himself conveyed in a small sedan covered with scarlet cloth,
and carried by two men only, from Kandahar to his family seat at
Márúf. He dismissed his courtiers at the gates of the city, and would
allow no one to accompany him except a few mounted attendants.
Thus quietly he retired from the scene of his labours and exploits,
and expired in the midst of his family in the summer of 1773, shortly
after his arrival at Márúf. His remains were carried back to the city
he founded, and now rest under the mausoleum which is its only
ornament.
Sháh Ahmad was only fifty years old at the time of his death. He is
said to have been a wise and just ruler, and of very simple and
unostentatious habits. His repeated invasions of India enriched his
country, whilst his successful campaigns against the Uzbaks and in
Khorassan established the independence of his kingdom. He is
always spoken of as the best of the Afghan sovereigns, and his
memory is free from the vices and crimes that have so freely
characterised the rule of his successors. His stronghold at Márúf was
destroyed in October 1839, by a detachment of the Bombay army
marching from Ghazni to Peshín, in revenge for the massacre there
of a body of four hundred camp-followers proceeding from Kandahar
to India.
After marching six miles, we came to the river Arghasán. It is
separated from the valley of the Tarnak by a long ridge of hills that
extends away to the north-east, and where we crossed it flows in a
wide shallow bed, hardly sunk below the level of the plain. Its
channel is about one hundred and eighty yards wide, and the river is
divided into two streams by an intervening strip of low tamarisk
jangal. The river was about a foot deep, and not very swift. Its
water was clear, and is said to be very wholesome. In flood seasons
the water flows broadcast over the plain, which is then quickly
covered with excellent pasture herbs.
The Yúsufzai and Mahmand tribes of the Peshawar valley and hills
were, according to their own accounts, originally settled as nomads
on the banks of the Arghasán and the highlands of Ghwara Margha,
to the north-east, sharing the former pastures with the Tarin tribe.
But in a season of drought they fought with the latter, and were
driven off to the eastward; and gradually working their way to Kabul,
ultimately seized their present possessions from the Indian
occupants, about four centuries ago.
Beyond the river, on either bank of which is a good irrigation
canal, we wound round the end of the ridge of hills separating the
valleys of the Tarnak and Arghasán; and passing the Naodih
collection of domed huts, rose over some undulations and
descended to the Tarnak valley; and going across it in the face of
driving sleet and a biting cold north-west wind, camped close to the
village of Mund Hissár. There is a large mound here with traces of
ancient walls upon it. The village takes it name from it. The weather
here was bitterly cold, owing to the blasts of the north-west wind
that swept the plain. At midday the ground was hard frozen, as were
all the lesser irrigation streams. This village is crown property, and is
the most prosperous-looking one we have seen since entering
Afghanistan. It is surrounded by a wide extent of cultivated and
freely irrigated land, but not a tree is to be seen anywhere about it.
Its people are a mixture of various races and tribes, who hold their
lands on condition of rendering one half the produce to government.
The whole country between this and Khojak, though entirely
devoid of timber, and even brushwood, in the spring and autumn
months is covered with a rich pasture, and supports vast flocks of
goats and sheep. During the summer and winter months the country
is almost entirely deserted, owing to the excessive heat of the one
season, and rigorous cold of the other, as well as the scarcity of
pasture. I was told by a merchant engaged in the trade, that the
average export of wool from Kandahar to Karáchí for the past ten
years has been about five thousand candies (kaodí) annually. Each
candy sells at Karáchí for from one hundred and fifty to two hundred
rupees, thus giving a profit to the province of from seventy-five
thousand to one hundred thousand rupees a year, or £7,500 to
£10,000. The trade is capable of considerable extension, for large
quantities of wool are still retained for home consumption in the
manufacture of the felts called namad and khosai. The former are
used as carpets and horse-clothing, and the latter is the ordinary
winter dress of the peasantry.
During the march from Peshín we had noticed a large flock of
sheep being daily driven along with our camp. We now learned that
they formed part of the liberal supplies provided by order of the Amir
for our party, which the Saggid informed us he reckoned would have
numbered at least two hundred people. But, as we did not exceed
thirty in number all told, they were going back to Kandahar.
9th February.—Marched twelve miles from Mund Hissár to
Kandahar. At about a mile we crossed the river Tarnak, the edges of
which were lined with snow-wreaths. The river flows in a wide
pebbly bed between two gravelly banks. Its stream is strong and
rapid, and mid-stream is about three feet deep. The water is muddy
just now, and is said to be always more or less turbid, in which
particular it differs from its tributaries the Arghasán and Argandáb,
both of which have clear streams.
Beyond the river we passed through a gap in a ridge of bare hills
of naked rock, and at once emerged on the plain of Kandahar by a
short descent from the hill skirt. The plain presented a wide hollow
extending for many miles from north-east to south-west. Its general
aspect was dreary in the extreme by comparison with the mass of
villages, and gardens, and corn-fields crowded together about the
city at its western extremity. Though yet in the poverty of its winter
state, this part of the plain bore a decidedly fertile and flourishing
look. On the verge of a desert plain to the north-east stood out the
fortified parallelogram of Ahmad Shahí, the city of Kandahar, and to
its west in attractive contrast rose the tall rows of dark cypresses,
marking the sites of the pleasure gardens of its former brother
chiefs. South of these lay a crowded mass of gardens, fields, and
villages down to the banks of the Tarnak, whilst to the north and
west the whole was shut in by the rocky heights of Baba Walí and
Husen Shahr. Altogether it formed an oasis in the midst of a desert.
At three miles from the city we were met by a numerous and
gaily-dressed company, who had come out for our isticbál, or
ceremonial reception, with a troop of regular cavalry and a company
of infantry. First of all, the cavalry formed a line on each side of our
procession to keep off the crowd, whilst the infantry marched in
front. We proceeded a little way in this order, when we came to a
roadside mound on which were collected the party who had come
out to do honour to the General. Here the infantry wheeled round
and formed a street up the slope of the mound. General Pollock and
our party dismounted, and then the leader of the isticbál, rising from
the carpet on which he was seated, stepped forward to meet us,
attended by four or five other nobles of the province. The Saggid
introduced us to each in succession, and we shook hands all round
with Sardár Mír Afzal Khán, Núr Muhammad Khán, Núr Ali Khán, and
two others.
 Sardár Mír Afzal Khán is a fine specimen of an Afghan noble of the
old style. His bearing is courteous and dignified, with a tinge of
hauteur. He was very richly dressed, and mounted on a handsome
Arab horse with trappings of solid gold. At his side hung a scimitar
with a gold embossed handle, and gold ornaments on the scabbard.
His head was close shaven and covered with a splendid Kashmir
shawl, the folds of which were not so closely adjusted as they might
have been, for the motion of his horse more than once caused the
headpiece to rock dangerously, as if about to fall. Mír Afzal Khán is
about sixty years of age, and wears a short beard dyed red. He has
sharp Jewish features, and a very prominent nose, and is said to
bear a strong resemblance to the late Amir Dost Muhammad Khán.
He is a son of the late Sardár Púrdil Khán, one of the many sons of
the celebrated Páyandah Khán (who was executed at Kandahar in
1806 by Sháh Zamán), by a Durrani mother. Dost Muhammad was
another son of Páyandah Khán by a Juwansher Cazilbash mother.
Páyandah Khán was a Bárakzai of the Muhammadzai branch, and
was the first who raised the Bárakzai tribe to the distinction and
influence they have since his death enjoyed. He left a great many
children, but twenty-two of his sons acquired notoriety by the parts
they enacted in the political revolutions that convulsed the country
on the death of Sháh Tymúr, the son and successor of Sháh Ahmad,
the founder of the independent Afghan nationality. Of these, Fath
Khán, whose mother was a Bárakzai, was for many years the most
important and powerful chief in the country, and thrice placed
Tymúr’s son Mahmúd on the throne at Kabul, against his brothers
Zamán and Shuja. He was inhumanly butchered in 1818 by Kamrán
the son of Mahmúd, and then his brothers all divided the country
between them, and Dost Muhammad became Amir of Kabul. He was
succeeded in 1863 by his son Sher Ali Khán, the present Amir.
Sardár Mír Afzal Khán is consequently a cousin of the present Amir,
and he is also his son-in-law, his daughter being Sher Ali’s favourite
wife, and the mother of the heir-apparent, Abdullah Ján. He has for
many years past been governor of Furrah, and has been a stanch
supporter of the Amir’s cause during all his adversities, and was
wounded in the arm by gunshot at the battle fought at Kajbáz, near
Caláti Ghizli, by the Amir against his rebel brother, Sardár
Muhammad Amin, on 6th June 1865.
The Saggid was present in the fight, and described it to us only
yesterday. It appears that both armies came into action suddenly,
and by surprise. The Amir’s eldest son, Muhammad Ali, was killed by
a cannon-shot, and his uncle, Muhammad Amin, pushing forward to
take advantage of the confusion thus produced, was hit in the head
by a rifle-bullet and killed at once. Mír Afzal Khán is now looked on
as the most influential chief in the country, and his coming out in
person to meet and do honour to the representative of the British
Government is considered a mark of sincere good-will on the part of
the Amir’s Government.
But to return from this digression to our procession to Kandahar.
After a hurried interchange of salutations we mounted our horses,
and, in company with a brilliant crowd of cavaliers, proceeded
towards the city. The cortége numbered about a hundred and fifty of
the nobility and gentry of the province, and gave us a good idea of
the chivalry of Kandahar. A better-mounted and more picturesque
body of men I have never seen. The variety of costume and colour,
the easy independence of the men, their courteous yet self-confident
bearing, and the variety of their arms, formed an interesting
spectacle, of which no description I can give will convey a proper
idea. Some wore rich velvets or bright-coloured broadcloths, cut to
the national pattern; others wore the national dress made of the
finest kinds of home material, and a few there were who had
adopted a semi-European style of costume, an ill-judged mixture,
which did not show to advantage amongst the handsomer and more
costly native costumes. Next to the riders, the horses attracted our
attention. They were all uncommonly well mounted. The quality of
the horse with most seemed to be a greater object of solicitude than
either that of their dress or their arms. The favourite weapon was a
dagger stuck sideways in the folds of the waistband; but many wore
a sword hung at the side, and some carried an English rifle or a
native matchlock slung over the shoulder or across the back.