To Mr. Daddy-Long-Legs Smith 鈥楢s I was returning in my little duli, I saw a bullock-cart in front, with a kind of red, dome-shaped vehicle on it, which of course contained some pardah-lady, perhaps a bride. I noticed that the curtain was drawn back. Probably the prisoned inmate of the red cage had caught sight of the duli, and was curious to see its occupant. As my kahars went faster than the bullocks, I passed the red cage, and a bright jewel-bedizened lady鈥攕miling, as if amused at seeing a white woman鈥攅xchanged brief glances with me. I thought her a pretty creature. I wonder what she thought of the old lady who smiled at her.鈥? But the end was at hand. Before morning sharp illness had seized upon him; and before twelve o鈥檆lock he had passed away. As Galesia was about to proceed, the Lady rang for a Servant; and bad him go to her House-keeper, and tell her to get a Dish of the Welsh Flummery ready, which Galesia had taught her last Night, and set it in an Arbour; and when 'tis cool, said she, to call us. And now, continued the Lady, give me the Receipt, for it shall make a Patch in the Screen, as well as does that of the Punch. To which Galesia readily agreed. to tell me that Mr. John Smith was going to send me to college. In the third-class carriages, where the compartments are divided by wooden lattice, among the bundles, the copper jars, and the trunks painted in the gaudiest colours, sit women in showy saree and decked in all their jewels; children in little silk[Pg 59] coats braided with tinsel, and open over their little bare bodies; men with no garment whatever but a loin-cloth or dhouti. There is endless chatter, a perpetual bickering for places, the bewilderment of those who lose themselves, shouts from one end of the station to the other, and in the foreground of the hubbub the incessant cries of the water and sweetmeat sellers. 午夜福利1000集福利92757|亚洲五月六月丁香缴情|美国一本到免费放视频|在线va无卡无码高清 On a square, shaded by an awning, with porticoes all round, coolies in white dresses sat on the ground making up little bunches of flowers, the blossoms without stems tied close to a pliant cane for garlands鈥攋asmine, roses, chrysanthemums, and sweet basil鈥攆or in India, as in Byzantium of old, basil is the flower of kings and gods. The basil's fresh scent overpowered the smell of sandal-wood and incense which had gradually soaked into me in the presence of the idols, and cleared the atmosphere delightfully. A woman rolled up in pale-tinted muslins under the warm halo of light falling through the[Pg 80] awning, was helping one of the florists. She supported on her arm a long garland of jasmine alternating with balls of roses. Almost motionless, she alone, in the midst of the idols, at all reminded me of a goddess. 鈥楤atala, Jan. 20. 鈥楩eb. 24, 1888.鈥擨 found your letter awaiting me this evening, when I returned from the four days鈥?Conference of Lady Missionaries at Amritsar.... Conferences are rather tiring. Sittings each day from 10 to 1, and 2 to 4, and always something besides. We had about sixty ladies, of various Denominations and Societies and Nationalities too, English, German, American, Indian. On Thursday, after our Conference work, we went to Church, and had such a solemn spiritual sermon from our new Bishop. It was the first time that I ever had seen him. Many friends came to ask after her; but on account of her excessive feebleness a very limited number could be admitted; only one or two in the day, and merely for a few minutes each.