My womanly curiosity led me into the kitchen of this very well-to-do Portuguese family. It was in keeping with the rest of the place. It was a low wooden structure, black with smoke and age; a long range of open fireplaces, made of brick and mortar, ran along on one side; on these earthen _chatties_, or earthen pots, were boiling away, some covered and others uncovered; but hanging from the roof above these pots were long lines of blackened cobwebs that looked as if they had remained undisturbed for a hundred years. The servants were all men, native Christians, and were overlooking the cooking or attending to various culinary duties. They were filthy beyond measure, and so was every nook and corner of the kitchen. The native Portuguese in this old-fashioned city of Damaun struck me as peculiarly uninteresting in their manners and appearance. We saw them in the streets, seated on the verandahs or doorsteps of their houses, chattering or laughing or quarrelling with their neighbors in shrill, harsh tones and with ungraceful gestures. In some aspects Oriental Christianity seems even more degrading than the worst form of paganism. In the afternoon of the same day, as we were walking about the town, we passed a wedding-procession on its way to the Roman Catholic church, which served in some slight degree to soften the unfavorable impression produced by the people and the town. It was a gaudy sight. Sheets were spread along the street leading to the steps of the chapel; flowers, chiefly the oleander, the rose, and the _mohgre_,[82] were scattered all over these sheets by dark-skinned Portuguese girls dressed in long white trousers and old-fashioned pink frocks. Presently the church-bells began to tinkle merrily, and a company of dark-hued damsels issued in full sight, dressed in tinsel and gold, with long white muslin veils, almost like the Hindoo sarees, bound round their persons. The bride was closely veiled from head to foot in something that looked like the _purdah_[83] worn by Mohammedan women. We could not see her, but I pleased myself with imagining that she was young and beautiful. Close to her were two young women bearing lighted torches, and in the foremost rank were two Portuguese priests, who led the way to the chapel (once a mosque), each bearing a silver-mounted crucifix. The bridegroom brought up the rear dressed as an English general, with a dark-blue embroidered frock-coat, golden epaulettes, scarlet pantaloons, sword, and a cocked hat with feathers, accompanied by at least twelve other native gentlemen similarly attired; but many of these grand-looking officers were barefooted. This grotesque procession rushed into the chapel in unseemly haste, and we followed. There was nothing very remarkable in the exterior of this chapel. But within, the principal altar was very richly adorned with gilt images of Christ, the Virgin, and saints, with handsome candlesticks and a great deal of gold and tinsel. There seemed to be but few seats.