In reply to the question "Sahib hy?" one of the men answers, "Hy, khadawum"--He is, O representative of God; at the same time holding his hands pressed together as if he were saying his prayers. He precedes me into the house, still in the same attitude. He sets me a chair, whilst another man comes in, unfastens the rope of the punkah, and, taking the end of it out into the verandah, sits down and pulls it, and very soon falls asleep, still, however, continuing his occupation. Presently in comes the master of the house, dressed in white jacket, black neckerchief (if any), white shirt, white trowsers, white stockings, and shoes made of some white skin. I should have told you that the servant who shows me in takes my card to his master, with which card his master plays the whole time I am there. In a few minutes in comes the lady, in clothes hanging loosely around her; she probably does not wear stays in the morning: her dress is white muslin, and her face, as well as those of her children, if she have any, is of a ghastly pale colour. This is universal in India. There is not much conversation at a first visit, so I soon rise and go to some person to whom I have a letter of introduction, when he at once volunteers to accompany me on the rest of my calls. These first visits are made by the gentleman only; his wife does not accompany him. In the course of a few days the gentlemen return the call, bringing their wives with them. Daughters are out of the question: beyond the age of six they are a genus unknown in India. They go to England at that age, come out again to India at eighteen, and probably marry in Calcutta, and settle at once some four or five months' journey from their parents, who have been so anxiously looking forward to seeing them. [Sidenote: DINNER-PARTIES.] A few days after the form of calling has been gone through, some half-dozen different persons send you invitations to dinner, kindly wishing to welcome the stranger to the station. From half-past seven to eight is the usual hour in India; for if people dined earlier they would necessarily lose their evening drive. The carriage enters the compound; a servant runs in to the sahib, and, pressing his own hands together, says, "Ghairee ata" (carriage comes). Out issues the sahib into the front verandah: the lady is handed out; the gentleman offers his arm, and walks off, leaving me to follow as best I may. From the verandah we enter the dining-room. There are no halls or passages or cupboards in the Mofussil. Down the whole length of the room is a long table laid for dinner, round which we must wind to get to the opposite door leading into the drawing-room. Here are a number of ladies seated on one side the room, on the other side the gentlemen. After a little while an old Indian with a long silvery beard, and dressed completely in white, comes in, and, pressing his hands together, says, "Canna mig" (dinner on table).