arried she is shut up still. She may indeed
walk in the garden at the back of the house, but nowhere else.

Hindoo ladies are not taught even those trifling accomplishments which
Chinese ladies learn: they can neither paint, nor play music; much less
can they read and write. They amuse themselves by putting on their
ornaments, or by making curries and sweetmeats to please their husbands:
but most of their time they spend in idleness, sauntering about and
chattering nonsense. As rich Hindoos have several wives, the ladies are
not alone; and being so much together, they quarrel a great deal.

Some English ladies once visited the house of a rich Hindoo. They were
led into the court at the back of the house, and shown into a little
chamber. One by one some women came in, all looking very shy and afraid
to speak; yet dressed very fine in muslin sarees, worked with gold and
silver flowers, and they were adorned with pearls and diamonds. At last
they ventured to admire the clothes of their visitors, and even to touch
them. Then they asked the English ladies to come and see their jewels;
and they took them into a little dark chamber with gratings for windows,
and displayed their treasures. They talked very loud, and all together
and so foolishly, that the ladies reproved them. The poor creatures
replied, "We should like to learn to read and work like the English
ladies; but we have nothing to do, and so we are accustomed to be idle,
and to talk foolishly. Do come again, and bring us books, and pictures,
and dolls."

You see what useless, wearisome lives the Hindoo _ladies_ lead. Now hear
what hard and wretched lives the _poor_ women lead. The wife of a poor
man rises from her mat before it is day, and by the light of a lamp spins
cotton for the family clothing. Next she feeds the children, and sweeps
the house and yard, and cleans the brass and stone vessels. Then she
washes the rice, bruises, and boils it. By this time it is ten o'clock,
when she goes with some other women to bathe in the river, or if there be
no river near, in a great tank of rain-water. While there, she often
makes a clay image of her god, and worships it with prayers, and bowings,
and offerings of fruit and flowers, for nearly an hour. On her return
home she prepares the curry for dinner: her kitchen is a clay furnace in
the yard, and there she boils the rice. When dinner is ready, she dares
not sit down with her husband to eat it: no, she places it respec