meats: watch him as he worships with
clasped hands the first coin that has fallen to his share this morning,
calling it his "Boni" or lucky handsel and striking it twice or thrice
against the edge of his tray to ward off the fiend of "No Custom." But
hark! the children have heard of his arrival; a shrill cry of "Come in,
jaleibiwala" forces him to drop the first coin into his empty pocket; and
with silent steps he disappears down the dark passage of the neighbouring
chal.

[Illustration: The seller of "Malpurwa jaleibi".]

Now, as the Faithful wend their way homewards, bands of cheerful millhands
hasten past you to the mills, and are followed by files of Koli
fisherfolk,--the men unclad and red-hatted, with heavy creels, the women
tight-girt and flower-decked, bearing their headloads of shining fish at a
trot towards the markets. The houses disgorge a continuous stream of
people, bound upon their daily visit to the market, both men and women
carrying baskets of palm-leaf matting for their purchases; and a little
later the verandahs, "otlas," and the streets are crowded with Arabs,
Persians, and north-country Indians, seated in groups to sip their coffee
or sherbet and smoke the Persian or Indian pipe. Baluchis and Makranis
wander into the ghi and flour shops and purchase sufficient to hand over to
the baker, who daily prepares their bread for them; the "panseller" sings
the virtue of his wares in front of the cook-shop; the hawkers--the Daudi
Bohra of "zari purana" fame, the Kathiawar Memon, the Persian "pashmak-
seller" crying "Phul mitai" (flower sweets), start forth upon their daily
pilgrimage; while in the centre of the thoroughfare the "reckla," the
landau, the victoria and the shigram bear their owners towards the
business quarters of the city. "Mera churan mazedar uso khate hain,
sirdar," and past you move a couple of drug-sellers, offering a word
of morning welcome to their friend the Attar (perfumer) from the Deccan;
while above your head the balconies are gradually filling with the mothers
and children of the city, playing, working, talking and watching the human
panorama unfold before their eyes.

[Illustration: A Koli woman.]

So the morning passes into mid-day, amid a hundred sounds symbolical of the
various phases of life in the Western capital,--the shout of the driver,
the twang of the cotton-cleaner, the warning call of the anxious mother,
the rattle of the showman's drum, the yell of the devotee, th