s to be summoned, our astrologer addresses his first
reproaches to the sun, stretching out his hands and using the strongest
of invectives, after which, when he has worked himself into a towering
rage against the orb of day, an execrable beating on the drums begins,
accompanied by the howling of all the people present. The god of rain
gets his share of insults, and is severely reprimanded for the casual way
in which he carries on his business, and so, partly with good, partly
with bad manners, this satanic performance goes on day after day, until,
eventually, it does begin to rain.

The portico in this old haunted palace was a favourite spot for these
rites, and as the house of the Vice-Minister of Home Affairs, where I
stayed as a guest, was close by, I suffered a good deal at the hands of
these fanatics, for the noise they made was of so wild a nature as to
drive one crazy--if not, also, quite sufficient to bring the whole world
down.

We may now continue our peregrination along the main street. There along
the wall squat dozens of coolies, with their carrying arrangement,
sitting on their heels, and basking in the sun. Further on, one of them
is just loading a huge earthenware vase full of the native beverage. The
weight must be something enormous. Yet see how quickly and cleverly he
manages to get up with it, and walk away from his kneeling position by
first raising one leg, then the other, and after that a push up and it is
done.

Here, again, coming along, is another curiosity. It is a blue palanquin,
carried on the back of two men. They walk along quickly, with bare feet,
and trousers turned up over the knees. Instead of wearing a transparent
head-gear, like the rest of the people, these chair-bearers have round
felt hats. In front walks a _Maggiordomo_, and following the palanquin
are a few retainers. Heading the procession are two men, who, with rude
manners, push away the people, and shout out at the top of their voices:

"Era, Era, Era; Picassa, Picassa!" ("Out of the way; get out, get away!")
were the polite words with which these roughs elbowed their way among the
crowd, and flung people on one side or the other, in order to clear the
road for their lord and master. From the hubbub they made, one might have
imagined that it was the King himself coming, instead of a mere
magistrate.

A few hundred yards further on, one finds on one's left a magnificent
street departing at right angles to the main thorou