are the remains of the stone
elephant which gave the island of Elephanta its name; the gardens are a
popular resort. In another portion of the city is the best statue of
Queen Victoria to be found in India.

An unusually fine market building is surmounted by a handsome
clock-tower. There are large, well-equipped hospitals and a college, in
addition to the number of buildings for public uses. One frequently sees
gayly painted mosques and temples. Among the many ruins, those of Siva,
called the Caves of Elephanta, are of most interest.

A steam launch was taken at the Apollo Bunder, and, after an hour and a
half on the bay, we arrived at the island; the landing was not
agreeable, and we were met with a chorus of voices from boys and men,
crying "Memsahib" this and "Memsahib" that; some were beggars, others
were intent on renting their "chairs" for the ascent of the hill.

The caves are excavations in the solid rock from fifteen to seventeen
feet in height; originally there had been a plan, showing the
arrangement of columns and colonnades, but the depredations of the
followers of Mohammed in the past are everywhere to be seen. The
entrance to one cave, however, is well preserved, as is also a group,
almost life size, of Siva, Vishnu, and Brahma, called the Trinity. The
caves are said to be the home of many deadly snakes, but none appeared,
and a death-like stillness prevailed; once in the sunshine again, we met
a snake charmer with a lively collection of what seemed to be cobras,
but we declined to gaze upon them.

Further visits to the streets and bazars revealed new scenes, and such a
variety of nationalities! As Sir Edwin Arnold has written: "Here are
specimens of every race and nation of the East, Arabs from Muscat,
Persians from the Gulf, Afghans from the northern frontier, black shaggy
negroes from Zanzibar, islanders from the Maldives and Laccadives;
Malays and Chinese throng and jostle with Parsees in their sloping hats,
with Jews, Lascars, Rajputs, Fakirs, European Sepoys, and Sahibs."

[Illustration: _A Tower of Silence_]

My vivid impression of Bombay is a memory of the June-like temperature
(in December), the lovely drives, and the never-ending panorama of the
water front as seen from my hotel windows, sometimes dazzlingly bright
in the sunlight, and again subdued, as the soft opalescent tints of the
twilight enveloped the landscape in a shadowy haze. Before me lay ocean
steamers, merchantmen, a man of