“No, sir. In my o-pinion twenty rupees enough. You, mussáfir and stranger, and not know custom of Afghanistan.”
The bearer of news is rewarded with presents or with blows, according to the quality of the tidings.
Mounted men were racing off full speed to Kabul and the other big towns; those who got in first received the baksheesh.
We rode off to the Harem Serai to offer my congratulations. I found a large crowd in the garden outside the Serai. There was an elephant with gay trappings, which attracted a great deal of attention. Two brass bands, with crowds round them, were hard at work, their style reminding one of a parish school band. Pipers were marching up and down, gaily playing Scotch tunes on their bagpipes. Native instruments were giving vent to moans, shrieks, and thuds.
When we got into the garden I found I attracted rather more attention than I either expected or desired. However, seeing the Commander-in-Chief and some other officers sitting on a bank under the shade of a tree, I went up and shook hands with them, and with the assistance of the Armenian we had some conversation: not about the weather, that is a subject which is never discussed in Afghanistan. Presently I saw my small friend Mahomed Omer, son of Perwana Khan, who was one of the Pages in the Harem, and I sent in my congratulations by him. By and bye two of the Amîr’s younger sons, the Princes Hafiz Ullah and Amin Ullah, about ten and six years old—who had visited the Sultana that morning—came from the Harem. They conveyed the Sultana’s thanks for congratulations. Her Highness seemed very pleased that I had called, for she sent me a present of five hundred rupees by the hand of the little Princes. It struck me at the time that possibly she viewed the visit rather as a national than a personal compliment.
The birth of the youngster may, perhaps, in the future complicate the matter of succession. Before his birth the heir presumptive was the Amîr’s eldest son, Prince Habibullah. The mother of the eldest Prince, however, is not of the royal tribe, whereas the Sultana is royal on both her father’s and her mother’s side. Her father was a Priest and a Seyid, or descendant of the Prophet, and therefore hereditarily a beggar: but he was also a Suddozai Durani, and he asked for and received the daughter of Amîr Dost Mahomed in marriage.
Now, therefore, that there is a son who is royal on both sides, Prince Habibullah’s claim is less decided than it was.
On the day after the Prince’s birthday the Festival was continued. Bands were playing all day, and in the evening a display of rockets—native made—was given.
The Accident.
One small boy managed to get hold of some explosive affair—a bomb I heard—and was playing about with it when it exploded. As he was not killed they brought him to me. The child was not pleasant to look upon, for the injury was chiefly in his face. I gave him a few whiffs of chloroform and cleared away the blood; but it took some little time to fit in the pieces and sew up the rents. I had a good deal of trouble, I remember, with the corner of his mouth and with the brow and left eyelid, so much was gone. It was a sort of puzzle to fit things together. The left eyeball had to be removed entirely, it was destroyed. However, he made an excellent recovery, with remarkably little disfigurement, except for the loss of the eye and part of the eyebrow.