Wednesday is theoretically to be a day of rest. The camp breakfast hour is fixed at 10, but there are some ardent spirits who know no repose, and your rest is disturbed by the noise made in the adjacent tent by your friends Jones and Smith, who are bent on an expedition to shoot snipe or quail before breakfast. Other men are getting up early to go down to the fair to look at the horses which are for sale; and presently the soft voices of fair girls are heard, and you find that two or more of them have emerged from their tents to have just one game of lawn tennis before breakfast, by way of practice for the impending tournament. How delightful it must be to be young and not to know what fatigue means! And so this theoretical day of rest goes on. After breakfast every sort of amusement is arranged for the day, and no one seems to think of resting. One of the things that has to be done at Sonepore is to go and see the native fair. It is most convenient to go to the fair on an elephant, as the crowds of people are so dense, and many of the roads at the fair are too narrow, or otherwise unsuited for carriages. So two or three elephants are brought round, and parties made up to mount them. There is usually room for about four persons on each elephant; and if two young men can find themselves on an elephant with two pretty girls, they seem to think themselves in the seventh heaven. The movements of an elephant are sometimes rather rough, and the fair riders not only hold on desperately at first to the ropes, but seldom object to be also held on by the stronger arm of man. However, away they go, jolting and swaying about under the trees, and trying to manage their umbrellas or parasols so as to keep off the sun, which still smites down fiercely with his rays. As we arrive at the native fair, we first come upon endless rows of horses tethered under the long ranges of trees. The horses are numbered by hundreds, or rather by thousands, and come from the most distant parts of India, and sometimes from Bokhara and Persia; some of them look very handsome with their arched necks and long manes. But we must not detain our fair charges here too long. Onwards we go, a large bell round the elephant’s neck warning the swarming crowd to keep out of the way. The fair is laid out in the usual Oriental style, with all the vendors of one sort of thing collected in one place, or bazaar, as it is called. Here is the shoe bazaar, with fifty little shops or stalls, full of every kind of leather shoe of native make, and the gayest slippers embroidered with gold thread, and also a small stock of patent-leather shoes of English make to suit the tastes of those who have been educated to consider a patent-leather shoe as emblematic of an acquisition of a knowledge of English. Next we come to the cloth bazaar, where, in another fifty shops, all the manufactures of Manchester are to be seen, either in the original bales, or opened