Genre Travel. Page - 3

Courier; the whole house is at the service of my best of friends! He keeps his hand upon the carriage-door, and asks some other question to enhance the expectation. He carries a green leathern purse outside his coat, suspended by a belt. The idlers look at it; one touches it. It is full of five-franc pieces. Murmurs of admiration are heard among the boys. The landlord falls upon the Courier's neck, and folds him to his breast. He is so much fatter than he was, he says! He looks so rosy and so well!

The door is opened. Breathless expectation. The lady of the family gets out. Ah sweet lady! Beautiful lady! The sister of the lady of the family gets out. Great Heaven, Ma'amselle is charming! First little boy gets out. Ah, what a beautiful little boy! First little girl gets out. Oh, but this is an enchanting child! Second little girl gets out. The landlady, yielding to the finest impulse of our common nature, catches her up in her arms! Second little boy gets out. Oh, the sweet boy! Oh, the tender little fa

d enlivened by a multitude of birds.We overtook on the way our late fellow-travelers, the Kansas Indians,who, adorned with all their finery, were proceeding homeward at around pace; and whatever they might have seemed on board the boat,they made a very striking and picturesque feature in the forestlandscape.

Westport was full of Indians, whose little shaggy ponies were tied bydozens along the houses and fences. Sacs and Foxes, with shavedheads and painted faces, Shawanoes and Delawares, fluttering incalico frocks, and turbans, Wyandottes dressed like white men, and afew wretched Kansas wrapped in old blankets, were strolling about thestreets, or lounging in and out of the shops and houses.

As I stood at the door of the tavern, I saw a remarkable lookingperson coming up the street. He had a ruddy face, garnished with thestumps of a bristly red beard and mustache; on one side of his headwas a round cap with a knob at the top, such as Scottish laborerssometimes wear; his coat

And now "Eastward ho!" for "experiences" in Bethnal Green.

CHAPTER II.

EAST LONDON ARABS.

Notwithstanding my previous experiences among the Western tribes of Bedouins whose locale is the Desert of the Seven Dials, I must confess to considerable strangeness when first I penetrated the wilderness of Bethnal Green. Not only was it utterly terra incognita to me, but, with their manifold features in common, the want and squalor of the East have traits distinct from those of the West. I had but the name of one Bethnal Green parish and of one lady--Miss Macpherson--and with these slender data I proceeded to my work, the results of which I again chronicle seriatim.

Passing from the Moorgate Street Station I made for the Eastern Counties Terminus at Shoreditch, and soon after passing it struck off to my right in the Bethnal Green Road. Here, amid a pervading atmosphere of bird-fanciers and vendors of live pets in general, I f

trodden out; and before long, therewere several burnt fingers of the party. But the solid quantity ofcookery accomplished was out of proportion with so much display;and when we desisted, after two applications of the fire, the soundegg was little more than loo-warm; and as for a la papier, it was acold and sordid fricassee of printer's ink and broken egg-shell.We made shift to roast the other two, by putting them close to theburning spirits; and that with better success. And then weuncorked the bottle of wine, and sat down in a ditch with our canoeaprons over our knees. It rained smartly. Discomfort, when it ishonestly uncomfortable and makes no nauseous pretensions to thecontrary, is a vastly humorous business; and people well steepedand stupefied in the open air are in a good vein for laughter.From this point of view, even egg a la papier offered by way offood may pass muster as a sort of accessory to the fun. But thismanner of jest, although it may be taken in good part, does notinvite

ts upon them for the price of the birds; others had bills of exchange in their pockets, or in belts. Some of these documents, carefully unwrinkled and dried, were little less fresh in appearance that day, than the present page will be under ordinary circumstances, after having been opened three or four times.

In that lonely place, it had not been easy to obtain even such common commodities in towns, as ordinary disinfectants. Pitch had been burnt in the church, as the readiest thing at hand, and the frying-pan in which it had bubbled over a brazier of coals was still there, with its ashes. Hard by the Communion-Table, were some boots that had been taken off the drowned and preserved--a gold-digger's boot, cut down the leg for its removal--a trodden- down man's ankle-boot with a buff cloth top--and others--soaked and sandy, weedy and salt.

From the church, we passed out into the churchyard. Here, there lay, at that time, one hundred and forty-five bodies, that had come ashore from the wreck. He h

It is the great mart which invites the ivory traders from the African interior. To this market come the gum-copal, the hides, the orchilla weed, the timber, and the black slaves from Africa. Bagdad had great silk bazaars, Zanzibar has her ivory bazaars; Bagdad once traded in jewels, Zanzibar trades in gum-copal; Stamboul imported Circassian and Georgian slaves; Zanzibar imports black beauties from Uhiyow, Ugindo, Ugogo, Unyamwezi and Galla.

The same mode of commerce obtains here as in all Mohammedan countries--nay, the mode was in vogue long before Moses was born. The Arab never changes. He brought the custom of his forefathers with him when he came to live on this island. He is as much of an Arab here as at Muscat or Bagdad; wherever he goes to live he carries with him his harem, his religion, his long robe, his shirt, his slippers, and his dagger. If he penetrates Africa, not all the ridicule of the negroes can make him change his modes of life. Yet the land has not become Oriental; the Arab has not

st of Illustrations

Roald Amundsen Approximate Bird's-eye View, Drawn from the First Telegraphic Account Reproduced by permission of the Daily Chronicle The Opening of Roald Amundsen's Manuscript Helmer Hanssen, Ice Pilot, a Member of the Polar Party The "Fram's" Pigsty The Pig's Toilet Hoisting the Flag A Patient Some Members of the Expedition Sverre Hassel Oscar Wisting In the North-east Trades In the Rigging Taking an Observation Ronne Felt Safer when the Dogs were Muzzled Starboard Watch on the Bridge Olav Bjaaland, a Member of the Polar Party 136 In the Absence of Lady Partners, Ronne Takes a Turn with the Dogs An Albatross In Warmer Regions A Fresh Breeze in the West Wind Belt The Propeller Lifted in the Westerlies The "Fram's" Saloon Decorated for Christmas Eve Ronne at a Sailor's Job The "Fram" In Drift-ice Drift-ice in Ross Sea A Clever Method of Landing The "Fram" under Sail Cape Man's Head on the Barrier Seal-hunting The "Fram" The Crew of the "Fram" in the Bay of Whales The "Fram" in the Ba

erths in Sleepers--Elderly Ladies have Preference of Berths--An American Lady Takes One Anyhow--How Smythe Lost his Berth--How He Got Even--The Suttee

CHAPTER XLIX.

Pyjamas--Day Scene in India--Clothed in a Turban and a Pocket Handkerchief--Land Parceled Out--Established Village Servants--Witches in Families--Hereditary Midwifery--Destruction of Girl Babies--Wedding Display--Tiger-Persuader--Hailstorm Discourages--The Tyranny of the Sweeper--Elephant Driver--Water Carrier--Curious Rivers--Arrival at Allahabad--English Quarter--Lecture Hall Like a Snowstorm--Private Carriages--A Milliner--Early Morning--The Squatting Servant--A Religious Fair

CHAPTER L.

On the Road to Benares--Dust and Waiting--The Bejeweled Crowd--A Native Prince and his Guard--Zenana Lady--The Extremes of Fashion--The Hotel at Benares--An Annex a Mile Away--Doors in India--The Peepul Tree

istaken or misinformed, and I rather think that I have in one or two rare instances observed its information to be not strictly accurate with reference to myself. Indeed, I have, now and again, been more surprised by printed news that I have read of myself, than by any printed news that I have ever read in my present state of existence. Thus, the vigour and perseverance with which I have for some months past been collecting materials for, and hammering away at, a new book on America has much astonished me; seeing that all that time my declaration has been perfectly well known to my publishers on both sides of the Atlantic, that no consideration on earth would induce me to write one. But what I have intended, what I have resolved upon (and this is the confidence I seek to place in you), is, on my return to England, in my own person, in my own Journal, to bear, for the behoof of my countrymen, such testimony to the gigantic changes in this country as I have hinted at to-night. Also, to record that wherever I ha

ndarmes, and innumerable features typically andpicturesquely French, induced me easily to believe myself back in thebewildering whirl of the Boulevard des Capucines or des Italiennes.Whether the narrow streets of the native city are clean or dirty,whether garbage heaps lie festering in the broiling sun, sending theirdisgusting effluvia out to annoy the sense of smell at every turn, themunicipality cares not a little bit. Indifference to the well-being ofthe native pervades it; there is present no progressive prosperity.Every second person I met was, or seemed to be, a Government official.He was dressed in immaculate white clothes of the typical ugly Frenchcut, trimmed elaborately with an ad libitum decoration of gold braidand brass buttons. All was so different from Singapore and Hong-Kong,and one did not feel, in surroundings which made strongly for the_laissez-faire_ of the Frenchman in the East, ashamed of the fact thathe was an Englishman.

Three days north lies Hong-Kong, an all-