ikes the newcomer most on his first
arrival in India is perhaps the great number of people that he meets and
sees. The cities are veritable bee-hives of moving crowds of people, and
the bazaars, shops, and dwellings resemble honey-combs, with their many
subdivisions, giving each man or group of men the smallest possible
space.

[Illustration: TYPES OF THE LOWEST CASTE.]

Sitting in my comfortable easy chair with my eyes closed, thinking of
the past, I now see a picture of a spot in Calcutta called "Dalhousie
Square," where I loved to walk in the cool evening shades. I wish I were
an artist and could paint the picture on canvas for my readers; but
since I am not I will try to describe it with the pen. Dalhousie square
is about twice the size of our ordinary city parks; it is laid out in
walks, flower beds and grass plots, and planted with flowers, shrubs and
trees of almost every imaginable kind; it is a perfect gem of a little
park. It is surrounded by a high iron railing, with gates at the four
corners, which are open in the day time. On one side of the park are the
new government office buildings, while the other sides are lined with
ordinary business houses, separated from the park by wide streets. The
principal one of these streets leads from the viceroy's palace up to the
native part of the city, and is generally frequented by a great number
of fine carriages, hacks, palanquin bearers, horsemen, and thousands of
pedestrians.

At one corner is a hack stand, with hacks just like our own; but instead
of our American hackdriver we find the native Jehu, or coachman, who,
while waiting for a customer, sits perched on the seat with his feet
drawn up under his body, engaged with needle and thread in sewing a
garment for himself or his wife, perhaps, or occupying himself with a
piece of embroidery or fine crochet work.

In front of yonder fine office building is seated a Durwan (doorkeeper),
who is a Brahmin or priest. He sits at that door or gate all day long,
and sleeps in front of it at night on his little bed, which resembles a
camp cot. Early in the morning he takes up his bed and walks with it to
the rear, where stands a little cookhouse in which he prepares his food
for the day, consisting chiefly of boiled rice and vegetables. Just now
he is reading aloud, and with a singing voice, from the Shastras (the
Hindoo Bible) to a crowd of listeners, who eagerly and reverently seize
on every word from the holy writings.