The building was quite small, circular in shape, with a sort of pent roof, small iron-grated windows, and an iron-bound door, which was padlocked the moment the service was over. Under the central arch of the temple was a low altar on which burned a clear bright fire; the smoke had no means of escaping but through the windows, which made the place rather unpleasant to stay in for any length of time. A number of priests clad in simple white robes and quite unadorned fed the sacred fire[11] with the different kinds of precious woods, and while some chanted, passing each his sacred thread through the fingers of his hands, others dropped perfumes and consecrated oil into the Fire. The Parsee women and children sat or stood around this central fire, most of them beautifully dressed. I was struck with the beauty and nobility of their faces as they worshipped here with their hands folded, their eyes closed, listening reverently to the chants or praying silently to themselves. A great many silver trays full of fruit, sweetmeats, and white robes were placed on one side, offerings from the women to the Fire-priests. At the close of the service the entire congregation folded their hands across their breasts, and, having bowed their heads, retired, leaving the priests to heap precious fuel on the sacred fire, so as to preserve it from going out, for which purpose the temple is regularly visited during each day, and the fire is carefully preserved from year to year by certain priests who take turns to perform this most religious duty. One evening we went to visit, by appointment, one of the oldest Fire-priests in Bombay, who was also a famous astrologer. The appointment was made by our nearest European neighbor on Malabar Hill, a Mr. S----, an Englishman who had lived a long time in India, and one of our intimate friends. Although Mr. S---- was personally acquainted with him, the old priest had declined to receive strangers until prevailed upon to do so by Mr. S----'s Parsee friend and partner in business. We started about six o'clock in the evening, and after a long drive through the Parsee settlement of the native town and through a crowded and noisy bazaar, our carriage drew up before a high, dilapidated wooden building. The balcony projected into the street, supported by rickety wooden pillars, under which there was a small garden filled chiefly with herbs and plants. Mr. S----, who had often visited the house and was familiar with its ways, led us through the little garden and up a great flight of wooden steps into a corridor or hall, crossing which we at length stood before a very old door which was slightly ajar, through the opening of which a light streamed upon us in the dark passage. Mr. S---- tapped, and a voice feeble and tremulous bade us enter. We did so, and in another moment we were standing side by side with an old Fire-priest, perhaps the oldest in the world. He did not move or speak, or even turn his eyes upon us.