Note 317 — Chapter III

“On passing the corner of the street where I formerly lived, I could not forego the desire of looking on the ruins of a house in which I had passed a period of two years of happiness. Although I had expected to see the whole place unroofed, I was not prepared for such a scene of desolation. Not one brick was left standing on another in either my house or that of Sir Alexander Burnes (the adjoining one). They were nothing but a heap of dirt, covering the mouldering remains of our unfortunate people. A spot was pointed out to me in Sir Alexander’s garden as that in which his body had been interred.”—[Captain Johnson’s Narrative of his Captivity. MS.]