At the beginning of May, when both were completed, I took them to the Palace. Hearing, however, that His Highness was not sitting, I was coming away, when he sent for me back again. He was much pleased with the paintings, and taking a cigarette out of his case he fitted it in a holder and gave it me to smoke. He also said he should be greatly pleased if I would paint a portrait of the two eldest Princes before I left. I said that nothing would give me greater pleasure: but afterwards, on thinking it over, my remark struck me as being somewhat beyond the truth. It was the month of Ramazàn, the yearly Mahomedan fast. The Prince could not sit fasting: Religion would not allow him to eat in the day time; and my capabilities would not allow me to paint in the night, and we were at a standstill. Instead of sitting for his portrait, therefore, the Prince took unto himself another wife, and invited me to the wedding. I have described the Reception after the wedding, in an early part of the narrative. On May 9th the Fast of Ramazàn ended, and on the 10th was the festival of Îd. It was a bright sunny day, which, after the most unusual storms of hail and rain we had been having, was delightful. The hailstones of the day before were as big as the end of one’s finger--I brought some in to examine. In the night, the river, which, owing to the melting snows and the rain had been rapidly rising, became so swollen as to be a source of no little danger to a part of the town. Fortunately the bridge had been almost cleared away, but as it was a regiment of soldiers were sent out to strengthen the embankment of the river. There was no moon, and they worked away all night by torchlight; otherwise, as the river roared along with great force and at a tremendous speed, the Chindawal division of the town would have been flooded and the houses washed away. Îd being a festival everyone was dressed in his smartest, and the servants all had clean white turbans and white clothes. According to the custom of the country I gave presents and a feast to my servants and guard, and went to the Durbar to salute the Amîr. I told His Highness that when I was in England I would take pains to perfect myself in the Persian language: that I found difficulty in doing so in Kabul, as I had neither dictionary nor grammar. His Highness laughed: he said-- [Sidenote: The Amîr’s Comment.] “I think not. You will take unto yourself a wife, you will visit your friends, but you will not learn Persian.” He was quite right. Two days after this Prince Habibullah gave me the first sitting for his portrait. He sat in the Salaam Khana, and when I arrived I found him in the upstairs room, the Guest-house, which has large windows all round. As the light came in every direction, painting there was an impossibility.