unded by a necklace that might have driven any Parisian belle
frantic with envy. The poor Raiput was awfully sleepy, but he stuck
heroically to his duties, and, thoughtfully pulling his beard, led us
all through the endless labyrinth of metaphysical entanglements of the
Ramayana. During the entr'actes we were offered coffee, sherbets, and
cigarettes, which we smoked even during the performance, sitting in
front of the stage in the first row. We were covered, like idols, with
garlands of flowers, and the manager, a stout Hindu clad in transparent
muslins, sprinkled us several times with rose-water.

The performance began at eight p.m. and, at half-past two, had only
reached the ninth act. In spite of each of us having a punkah-wallah
at our backs, the heat was unbearable. We had reached the limits of
our endurance, and tried to excuse ourselves. This led to general
disturbance, on the stage as well as in the auditorium. The airy
chariot, on which the wicked king Ravana was carrying Sita away, paused
in the air. The king of the Nagas (serpents) ceased breathing flames,
the monkey soldiers hung motionless on the trees, and Rama himself, clad
in light blue and crowned with a diminutive pagoda, came to the front of
the stage and pronounced in pure English speech, in which he thanked
us for the honour of our presence. Then new bouquets, pansu-paris, and
rose-water, and, finally, we reached home about four a.m. Next morning
we learned that the performance had ended at half-past six.

On The Way To Karli

It is an early morning near the end of March. A light breeze caresses
with its velvety hand the sleepy faces of the pilgrims; and the
intoxicating perfume of tuberoses mingles with the pungent odors of the
bazaar. Crowds of barefooted Brahman women, stately and well-formed,
direct their steps, like the biblical Rachel, to the well, with brass
water pots bright as gold upon their heads. On our way lie numerous
sacred tanks, filled with stagnant water, in which Hindus of both sexes
perform their prescribed morning ablutions. Under the hedge of a garden
somebody's tame mongoose is devouring the head of a cobra. The headless
body of the snake convulsively, but harmlessly, beats against the thin
flanks of the little animal, which regards these vain efforts with an
evident delight. Side by side with this group of animals is a human
figure; a naked mali (gardener), offering betel and salt to a monstrous
stone idol of Shiv