The titles of the officers of the army are, Super Salah or Commander-in-Chief, Naib Salah, his deputy, Jinrael (general), Kernael (colonel), Kameedand (commandant), Kaftan (captain), Subadar (lieutenant of foot), Risaldar (lieutenant of horse), Havildar (sergeant of foot), Duffedar (sergeant of horse). The chief officers of the army are selected from the Amir’s family, or from among his favourites, and there is no promotion by grades, but only by favouritism. The late Amir, when forming a regiment, would have the men drawn up in front of him, and then, by simply judging the character of those he thought suitable, would select from among them those who were to be the officers. There are several bands, some with string and some with wind instruments, and the music the brass bands bring forth is something to be remembered, for all the instruments seem to keep their own time, and each man apparently plays a tune of his own, and does his best to make what he plays over heard above the others. The result is rather staggering when they are close to one. There is a bagpipe band, too, and snatches of their music would make it appear that they try to play Scotch airs; and the men of this band imitate the Highland dress, the skirt being represented by a check print shirt, which hangs below the tunic and outside the trousers, which latter are often dirty white calico ones. This band is a tribute to the fighting qualities of the Highlanders, whom the Afghans look upon as superior to all others, and say they are real devils. I was told by one man that during the fighting on the Sher Darwaza heights by the city of Kabul, one day the English had to retire, and he saw among the last to go one of the Highlanders running leisurely back carrying his rifle under his arm, with the muzzle pointing behind, and, as he ran, slipping cartridges into the breach, and firing back at the enemy. The man said he could see that the Highlander’s heart was not in his running away. On this day’s fighting many of the citizens turned out to take part in it, and the man who told me the foregoing was one of them. The Afghans appear to judge music by the volume of sound created, for on one of the festivals, when I went with some others to salaam the Queen-Sultana, we were entertained in an open pavilion in the garden, and three bands were sent to play to us. They did so, stationing themselves on three sides of the pavilion and loudly playing different things at once, and it was rather trying, for they don’t get tired soon, but the people round about seemed to think it quite all right.