asked to their houses, and used frequently to go and see them, when I was always able to supply them with amusement, by the exhibition of some European wonder, or by the display of some acquirement never possessed by women in Mohammedan countries.
I eagerly availed myself, of course, of the opportunity of taking sketches of all that I saw, and of thus preserving the impression of scenes and faces which might otherwise have slipped from memory, or have left only a shadowy recollection behind. In painting the portraits of these ladies, and in sketching the scenes of their domestic life, I at once found an ample source of amusement for myself, and contributed to their gratification, at the same time, as usual, exciting their wonder, and evoking many curious questions. But they were most particularly anxious to know all about my condition in my own country, and they would keep up an unintermitting series of questions in order to draw me out on that subject. Assuming that I must have left a husband behind in England, they were very anxious to know how many wives he had besides myself. How were our children tended and brought up? Were they fed on the milk of pigs? Judging of beauty by their own standard, they inquired if the English ladies were fat, as fat as
