Topaz is the name quaintly given to the Indo-Portuguese, and evidently refers to the lighter colour of their skin as compared with the natives. Other half-breeds, result of European and native connection, are called Eurasians, a sonorous word, the origin of which seems obscure till we perceive it is formed by elision of the compound word Europe-Asia. Notable even among this manycoloured crowd, in which no two people are in respect of style and colour dressed exactly alike, are the Parsees. This industrious and wealthy section of the population have a strong and lamentable tendency to rig themselves out in European clothes. But with broadcloth coat and trousers on their body, they never forsake their curious headgear, the tall, brimless, glazed hat slanting backwards.

All day long this crowd passes and repasses, an ever-varying picture of enduring interest. The ordinary liveliness of a busy street scene is added to by the fact that all shop-work is done in public. Here, as in Japan, there are no shop-fronts, the proprietor, his family, his friends, and his customers squatting on the floor of the excavation in the lower part of the house which is called the shop.

Bombay thought itself ruined when, with the sudden conclusion of the American War,

prices of cotton tumbled down, carrying with them all the fabric of speculative enterprise built on the foundation. But, as statistics show, Bombay trade has not only survived the crash, but has considerably increased. More cotton is now exported, and a larger aggregate sum paid for it, than during the most inflated period of exceptional war-born prosperity. Naturally in these circumstances the population is increasing, whilst that of Calcutta is standing still and that of Madras declining. There is a familiar saying in India which illustrates the general appreciation of the more favoured condition of Bengal as being the seat of the Government. When the punkah is pulled the stronger current of welcome air goes to the side on which the boys stands, the other side benefiting only by the return swing; the better position is called "the Bengal side of the punkah." But it is clear that at the present rate of relative progress this term will become obsolete.

Not content with exporting cotton, Bombay is now spinning it. Several mills, giving employment to some thousands of hands, are now in operation, and others are projected. Apart from considerations local to Bombay, this is an enterprise that will be watched with kindly interest by all who have at heart

the welfare of India. It is amongst the undisputed axioms bearing upon the recurrence of famine that the more manufactures spread, withdrawing men and women from the overpopulated labour market in the agricultural districts, the less frequent will famine be. In addition to cotton, Bombay exports opium to the extent of about six millions sterling per annum. Wheat also is a considerable item in its export returns, though the quantity greatly varies through succeeding years. These are transactions conducted through the houses of the great Banian merchants or of English firms.

But the six hundred thousand natives who populate the city have their hands full of work in smaller ways. The brass-workers are a great guild in Bombay, clustering together in long rows of shops that extend for some way down the Parell Road, which they make resonant with the clatter of their hammers. Printing is another industry which finds bread for many people. The printers-chaparias, as they are called-do not set up type, but stamp muslins, calicoes, and silks with simple designs and in bold colours. Some confine themselves to dyeing the calico, which comes either from the Manchester looms or the local mills. When a Mahommedan or Hindoo

woman wants a new gagras or cholis, she buys the necessary length of calico and takes it to the printer, selecting her own colours. These often seem bold regarded by themselves; but gracefully wrapped around the swarthy limbs and shoulders, and, mingling with the parti-coloured throng, they are enchanting. After a pretty extensive journey through the largest towns in North-West India, I do not remember to have seen among the lowest classes five women who were badly dressed, and these exceptions were probably Persians. The innate art taste of the natives of India is shown not less in their magnificent monuments at Benares than in the art of dressing themselves.

In the School of Art at Bombay an experiment has for some time been carried on with conspicuous success to revive the ancient art of Indian pottery. Mr. Terry, the director and moving spirit of the Institution, works upon a very simple plan. He takes boys out of the street, gives them a few elementary lessons in drawing and designing, and then, providing them with a wheel and a stock of clay, bids them create whatever their fancy, or their genius if they have it, suggests to them. The result is seen in some original compositions of shape and colour, not in the

most highly finished style, it is true, but preferable to some tastes by reason of their unconventionality. The Prince of Wales, when he was here, took home a large packingcase of the products of the school. A more generally accessible collection is to be found in the South Kensington Museum, though I confess that it was not till I had travelled all the way to Bombay that I made the acquaintance of the work.

The extension of the dock accommodation and the opening of the Rajpootana Railway, a link on the way to the far North, have already given to the trade of Bombay a notable impulse, which is certain to increase. The city now has a regular municipality, which keeps a sharp eye on all means of adding to the prosperity of its charge. A remarkably fine body of police answer for order. Great care is taken with their training, amongst other things in which they are tutored being the practice of giving first aid to the wounded. Sir James Fergusson told me a capital story about this class, an examination of which he had just attended. The men were being catechized as to what steps they would take in the event of various street accidents of common occurrence.

"Now supposing," the director asked,