The mesquin rhubarb-coloured race are dressed in a scanty dirty-white bit of decency, or the refuse of European rag-shops. A great sign of respectability is the top hat. The poorest man who considers himself a Portuguese twenty times removed, will wear a seedy patched black coat and a black tile in a cocoanut-forest-hut to distinguish himself from the natives, as a mark of respectability. The shabby demi-semi-civilization, the enervating climate, the poverty, the utter uninterestedness of everything, bears the curse of the Inquisition. They bear, however, one mark of St. Francis Xavier's teaching, who was a true gentleman (Hidalgo), besides being a saint. He preached courteousness, and the manners of the lower orders are excellent. The merest beggar has the manners of a gentleman; the poor all doff their caps as you pass, and seem formed to exchange civilities with Europeans. Richard found them just as he left them thirty years ago, the women scolding, making a noise almost like pig-killing, the children whining and crying as if they were perpetually teething, the animals starved and ill-treated. There is no escaping the heat of Goa; no ice, no punkahs, no tatties. The houses have no verandahs, have no shade, all white paint, and the sun bakes the walls the first hour it comes out. There is no milk and no servants. They export annually twenty-eight thousand _excellent_[2] servants, but they won't stay there. If any extraordinary law could oblige anybody to live here, they should bring a dozen tents, and pitch them under the trees, half a dozen good horses, a tent servant, a first-rate cook who could market, a groom, and a general servant and messenger. They should make a contract with the British Indian steamers to supply them with everything, keep a steam launch to go out and meet those steamers. But if any one were rich enough to do all that, they would not live at Goa. However, we were most lucky to have found the kind Majors. [Sidenote: _What to see_.] Richard had to revisit old scenes, and I had my work to do amongst the old Portuguese manuscripts at Old Goa. This must have been once a very extensive City, and you are deluded by its magnificent appearance, until you find yourself wandering in utter desolation in a City of the Dead, amongst Churches and old Monasteries; the very rustling of the trees, the murmur of the waves, sounded like a dirge for the departed grandeur of the City. The Church and House of the Bom Jesus belonged to the Society of Jesus, was dedicated to Xavier, and given to the Jesuits in 1584, till they were expelled in 1761, when it was given to the Lazarists. The Jesuits were the first to pioneer civilization to all lands, to choose healthy sites, to build tanks, to teach the people, and how badly they have been rewarded! Here the new Governors are invested, and here they are buried if they die during the term of office.