ised myself to lose no gesture, no word, no
expression, which might throw light on the question that interested
me--whether such a union were practical, possible, and wise.

At the appointed time, therefore, I was ready, and we mounted and
sallied forth into the bright autumn day. All visits are made on
horseback in Simla, as the distances are often considerable. You ride
quietly along, and the saice follows you, walking or keeping pace with
your gentle trot, as the case may be. We rode along the bustling mall,
crowded with men and women on horseback, with numbers of gorgeously
arrayed native servants and _chuprassies_ of the Government offices
hurrying on their respective errands, or dawdling for a chat with some
shabby-looking acquaintance in private life; we passed by the crowded
little shops on the hill below the church, and glanced at the
conglomeration of grain-sellers, jewellers, confectioners, and dealers
in metal or earthen vessels, every man sitting knee-deep in his wares,
smoking the eternal "hubble-bubble;" we noted the keen eyes of the
buyers and the hawk's glance of the sellers, the long snake-like fingers
eagerly grasping the passing coin, and seemingly convulsed into
serpentine contortion when they relinquished their clutch on a single
"pi;" we marked this busy scene, set down, like a Punch and Judy show,
in the midst of the trackless waste of the Himalayas, as if for the
delectation and pastime of some merry _genius loci_ weary of the solemn
silence in his awful mountains, and we chatted carelessly of the sights
animate and inanimate before us, laughing at the asseverations of the
salesmen, and at the hardened scepticism of the customer, at the
portentous dignity of the superb old messenger, white-bearded and clad
in scarlet and gold, as he bombastically described to the knot of poor
relations and admirers that elbowed him the splendours of the last
entertainment at "Peterhof," where Lord Lytton still reigned. I smiled,
and Isaacs frowned at the ancient and hairy ascetic believer, who
suddenly rose from his lair in a corner, and bustled through the crowd
of Hindoos, shouting at the top of his voice the confession of his
faith--"Beside God there is no God, and Muhammad is his apostle!" The
universality of the Oriental spirit is something amazing. Customs,
dress, thought, and language, are wonderfully alike among all Asiatics
west of Thibet and south of Turkistan. The greatest difference is in
language, a