their brightest apparel, watching the fun of the fair, and laughing to each other as heartily as those in the swings.

There were Thibetans, too, men and women from Ladak; the women with their peculiar head-dresses, a leathern strap going over the top of the head and hanging down the back, the said strap incrusted with beads and stones of various colours. The hair was usually brought tightly back from the forehead and drawn together into one long plait, hanging down the back, and adorned at the end with three scarlet tassels. The men wore flat caps, which by no means improved their faces, for they are an ugly race, these Ladakis. Those from the Kanacour and Kooloo valleys were much better looking, the women wearing a jaunty little smoking-cap on the side of their head, and all their massive black hair loose. Then there were Sikhs, Afghans, and Pathans, Hindus from Delhi and the North-West Provinces, and Mohammedans from Sind and the Doabs. Even the Bengali Babu had his representatives here, and I have no doubt went away from Seepee much richer for the fair. The hill people mustered, as might be expected, in great numbers, most of them clean-looking and well-dressed for the occasion. Cleanliness is not usually the characteristic of the hill people, but, for the fair, they made themselves look clean. Their women wore tight jackets, coming down to the hips, loose-fitting drawers of every hue, a scarf of some bright colour, silk or woollen usually, drawn over the head, and covering the body as far as the knees, with a marvellous display of nose- and ear-rings, and bracelets and anklets, all tinkling merrily as they walked, a costume pleasing in its effect and more picturesque than those usually seen in India. The men dress much in the same style, their jackets adorned with uncouth decorations, sometimes with rich embroidery, but more generally with beads, claws, teeth, and trophies of the chase. In addition they wear caps or turbans. The poorer portion of the hill people substitute dahlias and rhododendrons for the metal ornaments of their more prosperous compatriots, and not without improving on them.

Conjurors, jugglers, snake-charmers, and minstrels abounded, whilst the merry-go-rounds were filled with laughing tremblers, snatching a fearful joy as they dashed through the air. The pavilion in the centre was occupied by a number of well-dressed natives, a couple of silver sticks at the entrance preventing the crowd from intruding. There was no pushing or shoving, none of that rude larking' so common in European, and particularly in English, crowds. Nor was there any intoxication caused by alcohol, although I suspect there were other forms of indulgence equally objectionable— opium-smoking, bhang and ganja, majun and rindi.

Two principal figures were seated in the places of honour, as we entered the pavilion. One was a fat man, mild-looking and dull, with a great gold chain round his neck and an enormous turban on

his head. This was the Rana of Kothie. The country round belonged to him, and had belonged to his ancestors for many generations. The people around were for the most part his subjects. By his side was a spare, cunning-looking, active-eyed man, whose beard had been dyed a deep maroon. The fat man was taciturn. The spare one, Rana of Dhamie, was vivacious and talkative. The latter was one of the neighbouring hill chieftains, at present a guest of his friend of Kothie. Behind and around were the dependents of each, in various conditions of adornment outwardly, but marvellously unpleasant to the nostrils. With the Dhamie Rana were his two sons, intelligent youths of twelve or fourteen years of age. The eldest had a morocco case of which he was evidently very proud. His father encouraged him to show it to our party. There were three of us, Europeans. With shy pride he opened the case, and displayed a silver watch, quite a common-looking specimen of workmanship, which we duly admired. Then with a silent chuckle, that moved his portly frame hugely, and evidently with no little inward satisfaction, the Rana of Kothie took out of his ample girdle a gold watch. There was nothing remarkable about it, but the pride with which it was exhibited was marvellous. His fat face beamed with huge satisfaction as he put his gold watch beside the silver one of the young Dhamie. Then we were persuaded to show our watches, all three of us, and all three had gold watches, whereupon Kothie chuckled more violently than ever, almost audibly, and with many a Burghley-like nod and many a broad grin he drew the attention of the Dhamie people to the fact that his watch was gold, and the sahibs' watches were all three golden also-singular coincidence!

Presently we took our seats, and the Rana's levée, which our entrance had temporarily suspended, was continued. Each of his subjects came forward to the tent door, more or less awkwardly, and presented his nazr of a rupee. The Kothie man looked affectionately first at the giver and then at the rupee, but he had hardly time to regard the latter with satisfaction before the inexorable prime minister beside him swept it away into a bag prepared for the purpose. Several similar bags, probably of a thousand each, stood by his side. The Rana evidently makes a good thing of the Seepee fair. No wonder he smiled benignantly; no wonder he nodded with Burghley-like gravity and wisdom; no wonder he chuckled so marvellously.

Hookahs were introduced, and we all smoked. Soon after a man came bearing a box of native perfumes. From this he took a phial containing essence of rose, atr-i-gulab, and poured some of it into our hands, a few drops into each. The Kothie Rana then began, with much ceremony and imperturbable gravity, to rub down the Dhamie Rana with it, just as if he were rubbing him for the colic. He then offered to rub us down, but we declined this little

attention. The Dhamie man, not to be behind his fat friend in courtesy, began to rub him down in the same fashion. We compromised the matter by having a drop or two sprinkled on our handkerchiefs.

When these tedious ceremonial observances were complete, games were introduced. Bows and arrows were brought forward, the arrows blunted. One of the Rana's attendants armed himself with a bow and some of these arrows, whilst another, with an axe in his hand, described a series of frantic leaps and contortions, brandishing his. axe the while with marvellous rapidity. The man with the bow, at a distance of twenty paces or so, sent the arrow flying at the wild gesticulator again and again, but always without effect. Either it flew harmlessly past him, or was arrested by the swift revolving axe. This amusement continued for some time, and seemed mightily to amuse the Ranas and their suites. All the time our ears were tickled by the martial sounds of a band, consisting of various pipes and reeds of antique and venerable form, a kettle-drum, and a trumpet some four feet long. Is it possible that some mail-coach guard migrated to the Himalayas, with his trumpet amongst his baggage?

This fair continues three or four days. Its principal charm is to be found in the beauty of the locality, the strange commingling of races, and the variety of the costumes and customs.

In sailing down the Ganges during the month Katik, our October, one may pass in the course of a single day half a dozen holy fairs, each with a multitude of pilgrims equal to the population of a large city. All of them are rendered picturesque by the tents and equipages of the wealthy, the variety of the animals, and the bright colouring in which the natives delight-those descendants of the ancient Aryans of India, in many respects the most wonderful race that ever lived on earth,' as Professor Max Müller calls them. At night all these tents and booths are illuminated, so that the scene is hardly less animated by night than by day, and all without tumult and disorder. Every one of these localities is hallowed by some mythological tradition, and the firmest faith is reposed by the pilgrims in the truth of those traditions. Engrafted for hundreds, nay, thousands of years, in the minds of the people, they have grown up with them articles of faith, strengthened with their strength. 'Your words are good, Sahib, your teaching is excellent,' said some native headmen of villages to a Christian missionary in Oudh, but go and preach elsewhere. We do not want it. Our fathers' faith is enough for us. What should we do in your heaven? You want us to go there when we die. We had rather be with our fathers who went before us. What should we do in the heaven of the Sahibs?' This is no fanciful picture. These are the very words spoken in Hindustani to an enthusiastic missionary by the simple villagers.

And what could he say in reply? He felt the force of them, although he did not allow them to paralyse his efforts. The religious melas are attended by thousands of devotees on the same principle that prompted the villagers' words to the missionary. They were observed by their fathers. Generation after generation has attended them. Hindu, or Moslem, or Christian the rulers may be, but the melas are still the same, and, looking back into the vista of vanished centuries, we still see the same crowds, the same devotions, the same amusements, food, clothing, and attendant animals. When Britons were painted savages it was so, and now that Victoria, Queen of England, is Empress of India, it is so still.

W. KNIGHTOX.

WEST-END IMPROVEMENTS.

SIR RICHARD CROSS gave notice of a motion for April 5 in the House of Commons for a select committee to inquire into the working of the Artisans' Dwellings Act. As was the case with other matters of importance this session, circumstances stood in the way, the House was counted out that evening, and no discussion will probably arise on the question for some time.

The displacement of the working classes for urban improvements is a subject which is often looked upon with apathy and indifference. The reason of this must be that those who do not feel an interest in it are ignorant of its great importance, and do not consider that a great portion of the demoralisation amongst the lower classes arises from the bad dwellings and the crowded houses in which they so often live. It is evident that Sir Richard Cross, who has the welfare of the labouring classes much at heart, and who brought in the Artisans' Dwellings Act in 1875, is not satisfied with the working of the Act, which has been hampered, it is said, by the difficulty of buying land at a sufficiently low rate to make the building of workmen's houses possible, and by the enormous expense of the machinery of expropriation. The object of his committee would probably be to find out how the first of these difficulties can be met, either by money lent by the Government, or by private enterprise if it were possible to bring about the compulsory sale of land on those portions which are scheduled to the Act and set apart for dwellings of the labouring classes. Under the Artisans' Dwellings Act comparatively small spaces have been improved, as it has power only over insanitary areas; but a great scheme was brought forward in 1877 by the Metropolitan Board of Works, called 'The Metropolitan Street Improvements Act,' which had, as the promoters said, a twofold object: Firstly, the opening out of two main thoroughfares, one north and south, from Tottenham Court Road to Charing Cross, and another west to east, from Piccadilly Circus to Bloomsbury, both streets crossing at a circus on the site of the present Five Dials. The advantage of this new street would be very great in facilitating the traffic of the metropolis, making in the one instance a conVOL. IX. No. 51.

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