I was invited to the wedding of Prince Habibullah. I did not see the ceremony, where the priest blesses the union, but I attended the reception at the house of the bride’s father. It happened to be in the suburbs, near where I was living, and I walked there escorted by my servants and guard. I was shown into a large flower-garden where several tents were erected. A great many guests had arrived, but not the Prince. Presently, I heard the “Salaam-i-Padshah”--the representative of our National Anthem--being played by a brass band. It is a solemn and slow chant, reminding one of a dead march: it is very impressive and by no means unmusical. I was told it was composed by an Englishman--who he was I do not know. Then the Prince rode into the garden, followed by his brother, Nasrullah Khan. Both were dressed in scarlet and gold uniforms. Prince Habibullah wore a military helmet with plumes, and Nasrullah Khan a grey astrakhan hat. I bowed as the Prince went by, and he pulled up to enquire why I had not taken possession of the tent prepared for me, and he pointed out a very gay one. There were people in it, but they turned out at once. The Prince gave orders to one of the chamberlains for tea and cigarettes to be served for me there, and then rode on to another tent, where he dismounted. Taking his seat he received the salaams of the assembled guests. I sat in my tent, and people came in and chatted, and then went on to other tents. I drank tea, ate fruit, and smoked, while musicians and nautch women went through their performances. Then large trays of sweetmeats and sugar were brought to each of the tents, and when I had eaten a little I departed, for it began to rain. The servants of each of the guests carried away their master’s tray of sweets, for it was the fast of Ramazan, when Mahomedans cannot eat nor drink till night. The father of the bride was the Shaghassi, or Master of the Ceremonies in Mazar, and when we left there he was made governor of Turkestan. Soon after we left, however, he had sunstroke--mania, the hakims said--and the Amîr recalled him to Kabul. I found my horse waiting for me at the gate of the garden. In spite of the rain, the streets were crammed with people, and I had some trouble in the crowd, for my horse was restive, and plunged; however, we got home without accident. I went also to the wedding of Prince Nasrullah, but I will describe that later. [Sidenote: The Faith Cure.]