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BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.

No. MCLXI.

JULY 1912.

VOL. CXCII.

DR PENNELL OF BANNU.

BY BRIGADIER-GENERAL G. K. SCOTT-MONCRIEFF, C. B., C.I.E.

IN 'The Times' of March 25, there appeared in the obituary column a brief but appreciative account of the work of Dr Theodore Leighton Pennell, a medical missionary at Bannu, N.W. Frontier of India, calling special attention to his brilliant career as a medical student some twenty years ago, and to the ascendancy he had gained by his skill in his profession among the people of India.

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It is probable that among the readers of 'The Times not one in a hundred had ever heard of him before, and it may therefore be permitted for one who was in no way connected with him as a missionary, but who, as a frontier official, met him frequently and knew the country and the people among whom he laboured, to add a tribute of respect to the memory of perhaps the most remarkable Englishman who ever came into touch with the fierce and VOL. CXCII.-NO. MCLXI.

fanatical tribes of the Afghan border.

This is a strong statement, for there have been many Englishmen in that adventurous land who have left their mark. Herbert Edwardes, of Multan fame, and John Nicholson, hero of Delhi, are still remembered and honoured by the Border tribesmen. Yet it may be remembered that these great men owed some of their influence to the fact that they were the accredited agents of the great British Government, and, although it does not detract in any way from the splendid work they did, it is certain that this fact gave them an initial force which they would be the first to acknowledge. Pennell stood alone. He came among them as a stranger, he was representative of a creed which is uncompromisingly hostile to much of their cherished customs, and he made no secret of the fact.

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Yet, when the end came, it was probably true (as the principal Anglo-Indian newspaper of the Punjab wrote) that in many a Pathan homestead the evening meal would be untouched when it was heard that the famous Doctor Sahib at Bannu was no more. From the hills and valleys, far and near, multitudes came to gaze for the last time on the features of their friend, as he slept his last sleep, lying in his coffin, dressed in the Afghan dress, as they had known him. Many of the wild hillmen sobbed and lamented that they would never see him again, and when his mortal remains were carried to the grave, borne by British officers-the general commanding the troops among themalternately with the boys from Pennell's school, the route was lined with crowds of Pathan warriors, their mutual feuds and quarrels forgotten, that they might render a tribute of honour to the Englishman who had trusted them and given them freely of his best.

Who was this man, and what sort of people were they? To answer this question it is necessary to say something about Bannu and its surrounding people.

Nowadays India is, thanks to modern facilities of travel, so much a winter resort for people at home who have leisure and means to escape a British climate, that it is almost an insult to describe any special place of interest in that country. Bannu, however, is outside the beaten track. The cold-weather tourist does not

find his way there, for it is very remote. To Peshawar, 120 miles farther north, tourists come freely. They admire the beauty of its gardens, the picturesque costume of its people, perhaps they make an expedition, with proper escort, up the Khyber, and are impressed by the stern wildness of the mountains and the practical need for defences as evinced by the forts and blockhouses at Ali Musjid and Jamrud. They see a little of frontier life, so different in every respect from the ordinary scenes of India, and possibly they realise that there at least war is never far off, and that the rule of the Emperor is necessarily supported by the sword. But not one visitor in a thousand goes southward to the other outposts of British India. If they did, they would find at Bannu another beautiful valley, another girdle of stony but wildly picturesque mountains, fresh tribes, men armed to the teeth, of the same intractable and indomitable nature as the Afridis and the Mohmands.

One who knew Bannu well has thus described it: "In spring it is a vegetable emerald, and in winter its many-coloured harvests look as if Ceres had stumbled against the great Salt Range (to the north and east) and spilt half her cornucopia in this favoured vale. Most of the fruits of Cabul are found wild, and culture would bring them to perfection. As it is, the limes, the mulberries, and melons are delicious. Roses, too, without which Englishmen

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