As we rose to depart, Marten asked for water. The high-caste officials scowled almost angrily at the request; they cried out in horrified chorus when Haywood stepped towards a chettie in the corner of the room.

“Don’t touch that, sahib!” shrieked the assistant; “I shall arrange to give you a drink.”

He spoke like a man on whom had suddenly fallen the task of 杭州足疗椅 launching a first-class battleship. One can smile with indulgence at the naked, illiterate coolie who clings to the silly superstitions of caste. The ignorance and sterility of a brain weakened by centuries of habitual desuetude pardons him. But to see 杭州足浴哪里好 educated, full-grown men among men descend to the fanatical childishness of ridiculous customs seems, in this twentieth century, the height of absurdity.

Among the servants within the building were none low enough in caste to be assigned the task of bringing us water. The assistant sent for a punkah-wallah. One of the great folds of velvet fell motionless and there sneaked into the room the most abject of human creatures. A curt order sounded. The sudra dropped to a squat, raised his clasped hands to his forehead, and shuffled off towards the chettie. Certainly, had he had a tail it 杭州男士高端私人 would have been close drawn between his legs.

Picking up a heavy brass goblet, he placed it, not on the table, but on the floor in the middle of the room. The officials nearest the blighted spot abandoned their desks, and the entire company formed a 杭州夜生活美女 circle around us. Haywood stepped forward to pick up the cup.

“No, no,” cried the force, “stand back!”

The coolie slunk forward with the chettie and, holding it fully two 304feet above the goblet, filled the vessel, and drew back several paces.

“Now you may drink,” said the assistant.

“Do you want


more?” he asked, when the cup was empty.


“Then leave the lota on the floor and stand back.”

The punkah-wallah filled it as before.

“Good day,” repeated the assistant, when we acknowledged ourselves satisfied, “but you must carry the lota away with you.”

“But it costs a good piece 杭州洗浴哪里服务最好 of money,” suggested Haywood.

“Yes,” sighed the Hindu, “but no one dares touch it any more.”

A native clerk met us on the station platform at nightfall, with tickets and “batter.” On the express that thundered in a moment later were two European 杭州不正规的按摩店在哪 compartments; but Haywood was roused to the virile profanity of the Bowery at finding one of them occupied by natives. At the climax of an aria that displayed to advantage his remarkable vocabulary of execrations, a deep, solemn bass sounded from the next 杭州养生足疗 compartment:—

“Young man! Have you no fear of the fires of hell?”

“Oh! Lord!” gasped Marten, “Another padre!”

“Will you drive these niggers out of here!” screamed Haywood to a passing guard.

“Take the next compartment behind,” answered the official, over his shoulder; “There’s only one man in it.”

“Yes! But he’s a missionary!” bawled Marten.

The guard was gone. The station master gave the signal for departure and we boarded the express with a sigh of resignation. Haywood swore to wait for the next train rather than endure a sermon; but the fear of being left behind fell upon 杭州桑拿论坛 him, and, as the engine screeched, he scrambled through the door after us.

The sermon was immediately forthcoming, and the information we gleaned anent the future dwelling-place of blasphemous seamen was more voluminous than encouraging. Luckily, towards 杭州丝袜论坛 midnight the missionary exhausted both his text and his voice, and left us to enjoy such sleep as the ticket punchers permitted.

The Hindu affects many strange coiffures. Natives of Madras

A Hindu basket-weaver of Madras