Little as he suspected it, this was the turning-point in his career. Henceforward, instead of forming one of a crowd of struggling princes contending for the fragments of Tímúr's empire between the great rivers, he stands alone, without a rival or competitor, among the impregnable mountain passes of Afghánistán; until finally the youth who had twice taken and lost Samarkand, and had thrice wandered a penniless exile among the shepherds of the hills of his native land, came out of the Afghán passes by the immemorial road of conquest, and founded an empire in India which lasted, in the hands of his descendants, first in glory, and then in dishonour, down to our own days. From Samarkand to Kábul, and from Kábul to Delhi, has been the road of conquest time after time; until at last another road was ploughed upon the seas, and the Afghán gates were barred by a new race from the islands in the west.
He left his native land with intense regret, and for many years he cherished vague hopes of recovering it. Ill as it had served him, the love of his country was strong in his heart, and it is touching to find him reverting long afterwards to the favourite scenes of his boyhood. He was now leaving them for he knew not what. Nos patriae fines et dulcia linquimus arva. He had not yet definitely resolved upon going to Kábul. His first plan was to seek refuge with his kinsmen at Herát, but his views changed as he advanced.
'In the month of Muharram [June, 1504] I set out from the neighbourhood of Farghána, intending to go into
