We were first shown into an outer garden, containing a house in which lived my small friend Mahomed Omer, son of the Deputy Commander-in-Chief in Kabul. Mahomed Omer was the infant Prince’s “Commander-in-Chief.” He was dressed in scarlet and gold, and marshalling the Kaffir Page boys in military order, he fancied himself quite a soldier. From this garden a screened doorway led into an inner and larger garden, the Prince’s. In this were two adjoining pavilions, or summer-houses, one larger and the other smaller. They were open and airy, without doors or window sashes, and were carpeted, and hung with crimson and white. The larger pavilion had about a dozen chairs arranged against the wall: there was no other furniture. It was apparently a waiting-room, or perhaps a reception-room for visitors of lower rank. As no one had arrived I sat there with the Armenian. Presently we heard a trumpet, and a few minutes after the hoarse voice of an officer as he shouted some word of command. The Armenian said, “Shahzada, Sahib, meaiyad.” “The Prince is coming.” First entered the Kaffir Pages, marshalled by Mahomed Omer, then came the Prince, carried in the arms of the old Hakim Abdul Wahid--the only Hakim in the country, so the Amîr used to say, who was really learned. Then came three of the nurses: the young one I have spoken of and two older ones. These were brought from the Harem Serai in a covered palanquin: after them two or three officials in uniform, whose faces I recognized, though in what capacity they served I did not know; and lastly, the guard of a hundred soldiers. I came outside the larger pavilion to receive the Prince, and followed him into the smaller one. In this was a couch covered with silk and supported on silvered legs, modelled in the shape of conventional or heraldic birds. There was a child’s high chair of carved oak with a tapestry seat in the room, and a small table with ornaments on it in the corner. The Prince was placed in the chair, and he sat upright like a little man nine months old. He wore a tunic of gold-embroidered silk, white pyjamas and astrakhan hat, of the royal shape. In his hand he had a gold rattle. A chair was placed for me, and the others stood or sat on the ground. After the usual courteous enquiries and some conversation, in which, of course, Hakim Abdul Wahid was the Prince’s deputy, a large tray of sweetmeats with loaves of sugar was placed at my feet. I do not quite know the significance of this custom: I know it is symbolical, and I think to symbolize the wish of the host that his guest’s future existence, in this world and the next, may be filled with sweet emotions. By and bye, little Prince Amin Ullah arrived, accompanied by his tutor, but with very little State, compared with that of his brother. [Sidenote: Visit to Prince Hafiz Ullah.]