The street that Europeans most visit in this quarter, and the best worth seeing for its unmixed and purely Oriental character, is called the "Bhendee Bazaar." It abounds in the queerest and most picturesque sights--solemn merchants, turbaned and with long flowing robes, seated cross-legged in their dens smoking long hookas; native women, handsomely dressed, in a variety of costumes, and half-nude beggars, who seem to beg for fun or for a wager; cripples, vagabonds; coolies with great heavy burdens on their backs, beneath which head and shoulders have disappeared, and only two bare legs can be seen struggling along amid the crowd; peddlers yelling like fiends; turbaned Mohammedans; Hindoo and Parsee ladies closely veiled, either on foot or in draped carriages drawn by milk-white bullocks instead of horses; indolent loungers sleeping in the shade; dogs yelping and native soldiers crushing through this great crowded aisle of the Bhendee Bazaar. It is not only full of everything Oriental, but everything Occidental, even to the idols so largely manufactured in Europe for the Indian markets--from the costliest gems from the mines of Punnah and Golconda to the commonest English prints; and since the introduction of free trade one can absolutely purchase English goods cheaper in this market than in the cities where they are manufactured. After visiting Bhendee we came one day upon a most interesting portion of the bazaar, the Arabian horse-markets. Long lines of stables stretch along for some distance, making a noble display of goodly Arabian steeds. These splendid high-bred creatures are greatly esteemed by the native traders, nawabs, and princes, as well as by the rich English merchants, and often bring fabulous prices. It was very pleasant to go through these stables and see the care and attention bestowed upon the horses by the native grooms, who, while washing, feeding, and rubbing them down, talk to them as if they were children. Our Hindoo _scyce_, or groom, while grooming his horse always told him everything that had happened to him during his absence on the previous evening, opening the conversation with, "Kaisah hai paiyarah?--How art thou, beloved?"