Here the Armenian and I dismounted, and I walked by the side of the elder Prince’s palanquin: the Armenian came behind. The Prince’s Kaffir Page boys were there, his tutor, and other young men, officers of his household. I had never been so near the Mosque before. They say it is about two hundred years old. It is truly Oriental in style, with cupola, pierced stone (lattice work) windows, and minarets. The blue-stone--or porcelain--bricks of which it is built are of different tints, the contrasting tints being arranged in patterns. In the immediate grounds, or square, of the Temple, were a number of shops, or booths, where they sold handkerchiefs, porcelain articles, and strings of beads, or rosaries. In the front of each shop was an awning of rush matting, supported on two poles. The sun shone brilliantly, and in the distance the mountains glimmered shadowy blue in the heated air. The crowds of people, and the shopkeepers, salaamed as the Princes went by. We marched through and on into the Park of Mazar--the Chahar Bagh. The park is about a mile in width each way. We went along the paths under the trees till we reached a large open space, where I found there was to be a wrestling contest. At one end of the space was a mound or platform, about six feet above the level. On it were spread carpets; and supported on poles was a brilliantly-coloured awning to keep off the glare of the sun. [Sidenote: The Spectators at the Wrestling-match.] There were two chairs for the Princes and a chair was given to me. The guard was arranged round, the Page boys stood in a line behind us, and the others, including the Armenian and the tutor, were seated on the ground. The tutor was a smart young fellow, very polished in manner, who used to cheat at cards in the most amusing and barefaced way. I had met him before. Around the open space were crowds of spectators, all in national costume: most of them with white turbans, long loose coats of various colours, and white, baggy pyjamas, tight at the ankle. The front ranks were seated, cross-legged, on the ground; behind them were rows standing. The ground sloped upwards for about three feet, so that all could see. Forming a background were the trees, all covered with green, for the summer comes rapidly in Turkestan; the roses were blooming in April. First, the band played. The musicians stood in the centre, their musical instruments being drums and pipes, or flageolets. The latter were large, black instruments, bound with brass, and with a tone not unlike that of the bagpipes. They played an Afghan tune, most quaint to my ear, and the drums beat rhythmically, but with a rhythm quite different from anything I had heard in Europe.