We went to the wedding feast of the daughter of Venayek Ramchunder Luxumonjee, at Bhau, Russell House, Girgaum Road. It was a magnificent entertainment, a long saloon brilliantly lit, every sort of luxurious carpet, crossed one upon another, hundreds of Easterns in gorgeous dresses. They say "we are just, but not kind," and it is true. There is no mixing of Society. There are few Burtons, and Stricklands of the Rudyard Kipling type. I regret to say that I was the only European lady. There was a _Nach_ (Nautch). The host had natural dignified manners. He was gentlemanly, manly, courteous without servility, spoke excellent English, and was in nothing inferior, except in colour, to the most polished English gentleman. The little bride and bridegroom were aged nine and ten. The marriage feasts last for days, after which they each stay with their parents till they are ready for practical marriage. There are no more ceremonies; they are actually _theoretically_ married to-day. The house was lit up like a transformation scene in a pantomime. Then we had to go and be vaccinated, for small-pox was raging; so we made a large party, and were about four hundred clustering round a cow at the hospital. Then Mr. Ormiston and his brother took us in a steam launch to see his work--the revolving light at the Prongs, the handsomest thing we had ever seen. The lighthouse is eight stories high, 169 feet. We then went to a Garden-party at Parell, Government House--something like a mild Chiswick party. There is so much hospitality that we dined out every night, and the drives out to dinner and back were delicious, on the balmy Indian nights. We saw Indian jugglery, such as the mango planted and growing before one's sight, the child being killed in the basket, and many other things which I, being a new-comer, was delighted with, and it amused Richard to see my astonishment. [Sidenote: _Mátherán_.]