r rings and sums of money. Wrestlers train carefully when they
are preparing for a contest, according to their own ideas of training,
and they drink a great deal of milk. The best side of Indian village
life is to be found in this sport, and as it is one of the few things
which is not tainted by idolatry, I could always accept with pleasure
an invitation to the gymnasium, or to be present on the annual sports
day.

[Illustration: THE YERANDAWANA VILLAGE WRESTLERS OPPOSITE THEIR
GYMNASIUM.]

In our village little dinner-parties take place in the houses (or,
rather, outside the houses) of the principal farmers, the evening
before the annual wrestling competition. Feasts are nearly always
held in the open air, partly because most of the houses are so small
that there is not room inside to seat the guests; and also because
low-caste people, who would not be allowed to come indoors, can be fed
in the open so long as they sit a little apart from the rest.

Modern novelties are creeping into rustic festivals. Mineral waters of
native manufacture, and often astonishingly brilliant in colour, have
become a recognised luxury at such times; especially since it has
become an understood thing that no breach of caste is involved if you
drink your soda-water direct from the bottle. Enclosed in its glass
case the liquid could not have been contaminated by any external
touch, and there is no need to go so far back in its history as to ask
who made the soda-water. The ice-cream man, calling out his wares in
what is meant to be English, does a large trade in spite of the
microscopic nature of his helpings. Native torches are being
supplanted by the powerful incandescent lights of recent times, and
one or two of these are hired for the occasion, and are brought out
from Poona on the heads of coolies, and burn all night somewhere in
the centre of the village. It is an essential element of all Indian
festal enjoyments that they should begin in the evening and last all
night. Extremes meet, and this is a peculiarity which the Indian
social world seems to share, at any rate to a large extent, with the
fashionable world in England. Of course a band is also a necessary
feature.

I went down into the village one morning, after one of their festal
nights, and found most of the villagers seated under the shade of a
large tree listening to the band which, usually so indefatigable, was
strumming rather feebly after its all-night exertions. It wa