The Chief’s brother, when he became quite well, came very often to see me. He was a handsome fellow, and I made a sketch or two of him in my note-book. He had a great desire to learn drawing, but he was never any good at it. I taught him how to write his name in English, and he learnt a few words also. One Sunday morning, September 15th, 1889, I was surprised to hear a considerable uproar: there was the report of rifles, the playing of military bands, and there seemed to be an air of bustle and excitement with everyone. Presently a man came rushing breathlessly into my house to tell me the news. It was not an advance of the Russians, nor even an outbreak of the Hazaras: no, the Sultana, the favourite wife of the Amîr, had given birth to a _son_. Had it been a daughter the matter would probably have been hushed up. [Sidenote: The Bearer of Good Tidings.] “Why this hurry?” I said to the Armenian. “This man, Dîn Mahomed, a little he is my friend; I know a child come into house of Amîr Sahib, but I know not when: better this, at once we go to Harem Serai and send in Salaam, and Her Highness made glad upon you.” “Ah, I see,” said I, “and the little, your friend, Dîn Mahomed, he would like baksheesh?” “Please you kind,” said the Armenian with an engaging smile. “How much?” I asked. “Sir, your wish. One twenty rupees,” he said, carelessly. “Isn’t it rather dear at the price?” I said. “Oh, sir! no. Other gentlemen, and rich man Supersala and Officer, give twenty or forty gold _tilla_ and three or four horses.” “To a servant! For just bringing news!” “The servant, he is not keep it. He bring to his master, Amîr Sahib, and Highness make glad upon that. Some he give to servant, and some he give to other servant. And Officer and Supersala make glad that Highness not send it back.” “Well, oughtn’t I to give more than twenty rupees?” “No, sir. In my o-pinion twenty rupees enough. You, mussáfir and stranger, and not know custom of Afghanistan.” The bearer of news is rewarded with presents or with blows, according to the quality of the tidings. Mounted men were racing off full speed to Kabul and the other big towns; those who got in first received the baksheesh. We rode off to the Harem Serai to offer my congratulations. I found a large crowd in the garden outside the Serai. There was an elephant with gay trappings, which attracted a great deal of attention. Two brass bands, with crowds round them, were hard at work, their style reminding one of a parish school band. Pipers were marching up and down, gaily playing _Scotch_ tunes on their bagpipes. Native instruments were giving vent to moans, shrieks, and thuds.