In front of yonder fine office building is seated a Durwan (doorkeeper), who is a Brahmin or priest. He sits at that door or gate all day long, and sleeps in front of it at night on his little bed, which resembles a camp cot. Early in the morning he takes up his bed and walks with it to the rear, where stands a little cookhouse in which he prepares his food for the day, consisting chiefly of boiled rice and vegetables. Just now he is reading aloud, and with a singing voice, from the Shastras (the Hindoo Bible) to a crowd of listeners, who eagerly and reverently seize on every word from the holy writings. Just behind me on a green spot in the park a dozen or more Mohammedans lie prostrate, their foreheads touching the ground, repeating their prayers; and if it happens to be at the setting of the sun hundreds of people are seen in the streets, shops, hotel corridors, or wherever they happen to be, turning their faces toward the holy city Mecca, reverently kneeling and saying their evening prayers. Here on the side-walk, close by me, sits a money-changer and broker. He has a box filled with coins of almost every kind and description; he buys and sells gold and silver of other countries, such as are not current in Calcutta, loans money on jewelry and other valuables, and does a general banking business on a very small scale. There comes a peddler,--more of them. Now they are crowding in by the hundred, selling canes, parasols, embroideries, watches, jewelry, and trinkets of every description, following the foot passengers, running beside the carriages going at full speed, sticking their goods through the windows and imploring the occupants to buy. Going around to the more quiet side of the square, I find a professional writer squatted on the side-walk. He has a bundle of dry palm leaves, and a customer of the lowest Hindoo classes stands before him stating what message he wishes to send to his wife and relatives in the country. With a sharp steel instrument the writer inscribes some strange Bengal letters on the palm leaf, folds it up into a little package which is sent by a traveling neighbor, or, perhaps, by a swift messenger, to the dear one in the humble cottage which stands somewhere out on the plain among the rice fields. A little further on sits a native barber, also on the side-walk.[5] Instead of a barber's chair he has a common-sized brick. The man who is to be shaved squats down opposite the barber; if the customer is the shorter of the two the brick is put under his feet, but if he is taller the barber puts the brick under his own feet, in order that they may be on a perfect level before the operation begins. A Hindoo barber not only shaves and cuts the hair, but also cleans the nails and ears and does other toilet work. [Footnote 5: The Hindoos never sit as we do, but squat on the ground and rest the weight of the body on the heels.] [Illustration: HINDOO BARBER.]