that the tiger's retractile
claws are like those of a cat, whereas the cheetah has toe-nails
similar to those of a dog.

The drive back to the Residency seemed long and hot, and I was glad to
rest awhile after our early excursion. Later in the forenoon we drove
through the city, this time behind a team of Austrian greys, on our
way to breakfast with Sir Salar Jung at the Barah Dari Palace. Sir
Salar is Prime Minister to the present Nizam, and is the son of the
eminent Indian statesman whose spare figure, clever face, well-cut
clothes, and snowy turban were seen often during his visit to London
twelve years ago. He received us very pleasantly, and showed us over
his palace, built around a fine courtyard, with elaborately carved
marble seats at intervals. The palace itself contains quantities of
European chandeliers, musical boxes, portraits in oil of past Nizams,
Maharajahs, and Governors-General. Sir Salar has also a fine
collection of Indian arms, and we were shown the skin of an enormous
tiger killed by himself only last week.

Breakfast was served in a most delightful verandah overlooking a
courtyard with flashing fountains and green and shady trees, the table
being prettily decorated, and the meal arranged in the most approved
European fashion.

Afterwards we returned to the Residency, and the hottest hours of the
day were spent in reading and writing. At four o'clock I again drove
out with Mr. Furdonji Jamsetjee, the Minister's private secretary,
passing through the picturesque and interesting native bazaars. The
narrow whitewashed streets lined with little shops, gaily decorated
with gold and bright colours, form a fitting background to the
smartly dressed groups moving about among them. We did not pause to
make any purchases, but stopped the carriage at many points to admire
the motley crowd and the curious and beautiful mosques and temples.

We were fortunate enough to meet two processions, one literally a
'wedding march,' and the other a numerous company of Hindoo
worshippers. First came a noisy, turbulent crowd of native soldiery,
escorting a young man mounted on a very fat horse, dressed in gorgeous
kincob, with eight people holding an enormous umbrella over him. This
proved to be the bridegroom, and he was followed by many elephants and
camels. As for the unfortunate bride, she was immured in a closely
covered palanquin decorated with red velvet and gold. How she could
live and breathe and have her bein