Bombay has a mixed population. Besides the native Indians are Persians, Arabians, Abyssinians, Syrians, Turks, Greeks and people from the Island of Madagascar, and—last and much in evidence—the English. The Parsees, the most respected sect, vie with the educated Hindoo in establishing charity schools and hospitals, and both are alike represented in the legislative councils. The more opulent of the Parsees educate their sons at Cambridge and Oxford, and generally are great travelers. They dress in European costume, but never at home lay aside their Parsee hat, so characteristic of the sect. We were told it is never discarded by day or night. Caste does not separate them and animal food is not forbidden.
We are invited to the home of Mr. Tata, a Parsee gentleman. His family ranks high in wealth and position in Bombay. My brother had, on one occasion, traveled with him up the Nile. His father and mother adhere to the Parsee dress, but their sons, having been educated in Cambridge and Oxford, have adopted the European dress, but still wear the hat of their sect. Their home occupied an entire square, and a small park separated it from the boulevard. We were invited to a four-o'clock tea. As we drove into the grounds and to a porte cochere we passed, in a victoria, Mr. Tata's brother with his wife. She was dressed in the graceful, elegant robes that the Parsee lady wears with such apparent ease. The doors were thrown open on our approach, by two turbaned and handsomely clad servants. Their white turbans were striped with gold thread; their dignified, quiet demeanor was refreshing. At the head of some twenty marble steps, full thirty feet in length, we were met by more servants in oriental dress, and were shown into the reception room. Mr. Tata was there to receive us, and after a few commonplace remarks I could restrain myself no longer and began to expatiate on the surroundings. He then told us that the house was thrown open once a week for a length of time after it was first built, that their friends might come and bring guests to see their collection of bric-a-brac and the rare pictures. At the head of these marble steps we reached a hall, the walls of which were lined with valuable oil paintings. The house was built on the line of the street—a solid front—but the interior rooms faced a court yard, filled with the most exquisite foliage plant and palms like forest trees. A glass roof, that could be slid aside, kept these from the elements. With a modest air of ease Mr. Tata took us from room to room. The portieres separating these apartments had been made to order in Japan—embroideries on satin of pale grey, lined with different shades of pink, blue, nile green, and some with white silk. On both sides of these portieres were hung what we would call the sheerest linen cambric. Tying back each pair, when desired, were ribbons or tassels of corresponding colors. All the wood used in this house was imported, rare in quality. The collection of carved ivories was surpassingly beautiful, as were also articles of jade. We, who had priced them in China, Japan and India, knew their value. The dining room was oblong, and at an oblong table in the middle of the floor could be seated five hundred guests. The table had a hollow center. By lifting up a hinged leaf persons could be seated on either side. We were shown the butler's pantry, large enough for an army of servants. Its floors were inlaid as Mosaic with pieces of broken china and cut glass. Mr. Tata said it was his father's idea and he urged him to get out a patent. The wine department made one thirsty, and the coolers are most unique, built in the wall, each bottle lying on its side in marble chiseled grooves, the process of cooling being hid from sight. We ascended a stairway of marble, whose broad steps afforded a landing place for our feet, and we could but linger to admire the works of art hung upon the walls. A beautiful stained glass window, with full effect of the setting sun, fronted the south and west at the head of these steps of mammoth dimensions. We were taken into Mr. Tata's own private parlor and from his bed-room, or an anteroom, sprang at our approach more turbaned and splendidly arrayed servants, who immediately after seating us offered on gold salvers delicately shaped tea cups, filled with the inviting Indian tea, and delicious rolled sandwiches hid in doilies of jeweled satin. Well, we drank the tea, but visions of the castle that Aladdin had built in one night by the fairies was before my eyes, and fairly blinded me. We were disappointed in not meeting his mother and father, both of whom he said were at the bedside of his aunt, who was very ill. In bidding adieu to our admirable host, we were told a carriage was ready to join ours that would convey his best friend with us to a Parsee wedding. We wondered why Mr. Tata himself did not accompany us, but found no Parsee would be bidden or allowed to enter the place set apart for the guest at a wedding feast, without a wedding garment, and when we saw that of the gentleman who went with us, we thought Mr. Tata did not care to make such an appearance before his American friends.
The dress of the men was of white cotton cloth, made into short, stiff and exceedingly full skirts reaching to the knee, an embroidered jacket and a tall Parsee hat, bare legs and sandals. The ladies wear one outside garment of silk crepe about five yards long of delicate pink, blue and other dainty tints and on either edge of this garment is a narrow velvet ribbon an inch wide, of a contrasting color—dark blue, light blue, pink or maroon in shade. This strip of velvet is embroidered in gold and silver thread and inlaid with turquoise, emeralds, pearls, etc. This article of drapery is first thrown over the head to cover one ear, on the other of which, by the way, is hung the most gorgeous solitaire diamond, emerald or ruby. This scarf is then draped most artistically about the shoulders and waist and droops in graceful folds over a silk or satin petticoat. They are very expensive; even those wrought with imitation gems cost more than we felt like expending.
There seems to be a building, or rather two of them, set apart for the wedding ceremonies which, we were told, were only consummated at certain seasons of the year (December and January). The grounds around were beautifully laid out with arches of electric lights spanning the fountains, with their sparkling waters, made more scintillating by the flickering lights above them. The bride's house was on one side of the entrance, the groom's on the other. Her friends were with her; the groom's friends with him. He sat at the door, with a magnificent India shawl folded and thrown over his arm, the gift of his best man, and wore the costume described above. The bride wore a blue crepe of very light shade. At a given signal she, with a female friend, was followed by all of those men, women and children in procession from the door of her apartment to that of the groom's. He received her at the threshold and conducted her to one of four seats—two for themselves and two for their attendants. These chairs were placed on a rug. Priests, two in number, stood on either side of them. A table with a large silver salver, filled with well scraped cocoanut in their shells, together with two large bowls of rice were brought and placed before them, the former designating plenty, the latter denoting increase or conveying the command, "multiply and replenish." These the priests hold in their hands after first causing the bride to take a seat opposite her husband elect and, throwing a cord around their waists, tie them closely together, and begin alternately to speak in an emphatic manner, showering, continually, the rice on their devoted heads; when the quantity was exhausted the bowls were replenished. Afterwards cocoanuts were given to each to hold, and for two hours this went on. The crowd, in the meantime, stood while a rug was spread and chairs were given to us, the honored guests. The children were most elaborately attired in pink and blue satin, short and full skirt, with bracelets and bangles in profusion; they were very attractive. One of these dear little girls never let go my hand, but had led me in the procession to the groom's house, and sat with me during the ceremony. Love begets love and I felt like keeping her close to me. Beautiful little satin slippers matched their dresses. After the ceremony was over, the cord was loosened and the bride sat at her husband's left and received congratulations. We then returned to the bride's house, across the court-yard and had a rich feast of fruits, dainties and wines; a few drops of the latter turned my head, but had to be drank for the sake of politeness. The ceremony was only half over when we left, all exhausted, for immediately after refreshments another two hours of this harangue by the priests had to be endured. What bliss was this?
On the following day the visit to the Elphanta caves by sailing vessel was most tedious, as the wind was against us, but on our return it was in our favor, "and we flew like a bird from the mountain" homeward. The landing at these caves was difficult. Stepping stones of huge dimensions stretch out into the water like a pier; an ascent of one hundred and fifty steps from the sea level brings us to the home of the carekeeper, who at once, for an admittance fee, proceeds to the temple close by and explains clearly all things necessary for our enlightenment. The temple is of solid rock; the builders began half way up the mountain of stone and cut down perpendicularly, thus removing the mountain face to a depth of thirty feet by one hundred and fifty feet in width. This Besaltic rock is chiseled into the interior of the mountain, where perfect chambers, with colossal gods, wrought by hand out of the stone, stand in representation of the Trinity gods. Brahma represents the creative power; Vishnu the preserving power, and Siva the destroying power. The guardian of this temple, an old Englishman and his wife, who keep things scrupulously clean, and in their own habitation offer us refreshments for a small compensation. Our ship the "Caledonia," Capt. Andrews in command, sails to-morrow. All is bustle and confusion at the Oriental Hotel. We have enjoyed Bombay, with its beautiful carved woods; its ivories, and lovely sandal wood boxes; its teak furniture; its markets, where everything from a shoe string to a monkey or parrot can be bought; its bazaars, where one must have a level head to survive the noise of bartering, to say nothing or but little of the jugglers who swarm beneath the veranda of the hotel, performing most marvelous feats with their cobras and swords for the few piasters that are thrown from an admiring and amazed crowd of travelers. We must not fail to speak of pleasant acquaintances made; of Sir Richard and Lady Campbell, who will be our companions en voyage when we leave this port of Bombay until we shall say good bye to them, and Mr. and Miss———, of England, of whom I have before written. We ship all trunks, save our steamer, to Albert Docks, London, where we hope to reclaim them before re-embarking for home. The parting of retired army officers, their wives and daughters, from the sons and brothers who are left behind to achieve fame perhaps, or lose their lives in the farther service to their country, seemed less affecting than I imagined such scenes would be, but we find patriotism very pronounced among the British subjects. They expressed hope of a speedy return for one or many more wild boar or tiger hunts amid the jungles, where they may add to their already large stock of skins. We found the best stock of these for sale in Calcutta in a famous house on the opposite side of the street from the Grand Hotel. It is essential to select a tiger skin with perfect claws and natural teeth, as too often artificial ones are used to promote a sale, and to have them perfect in their curing is most desirable; if not, your trunk in which they are packed will be well filled with vermin. A zinc trunk is advisable, which can be purchased in the shops, and at reasonable prices.
Adieux are spoken, the beautiful bay sparkles in the sunlight, and we bid a farewell to the land we may never see again. My own personal regrets are few, for I have suffered during the entire sojourn from a depression very unlike my normal condition. I hope this benighted race may yet be brought from darkness into light and that one common brotherhood may be established, and love divine shine over all.
EGYPT.
The Arabian sea is to me a reminder of tranquility; the thought of no more temples to see, no more heights to climb, no poor, wretched beings, whose only existence is prolonged agony to behold, for at least from the hour of sailing, 12 a. m., on Saturday, 14th of December, 1895, until we reach Ismalia, Saturday, December 21, at 12:30 p. m., what blissful anticipation, and so fully realized on this quiet trip. A snug, cool cabin all to myself, which opened into a private hallway with a great open hatchway, or open half-door, gave me the delicious sea air in its fulness of life and vigor without the necessity of my going on deck. Our steamer chairs bought at Hongkong were shipped through from Ismalia on the same vessel we were sailing to Albert Docks, London, where I found mine in good condition. I could recline in this private hall, book in hand, and cull from its valuable contents, information of the objects I had seen, and what was still in store for me—all the Oriental steamers have well-chosen libraries for the benefit of travelers. I had in anticipation from the beginning of my trip a strong desire to note in my diary items of interest, that I might have enough driftwood on my return home for winter fireside, and from further research to be able to leave to my grandchildren some fruit that would be to them a lasting remembrance of me.