your ladyship," whined the creature, "and, if you like me, a little more for bakshish, your ladyship." And so his woolen comforter and embroidered cap rode on our carriage-box to the Kaiserbaugh, where in its walled garden the wicked Queen of Oudh and the three hundred women of the zenana lived in jewels and idleness, envied and hated by the ninety nautch dancers housed in the gate pavilion.
Lucknow's museum is indeed a "wonder-house," and, fortunate in having most energetic archæologists and ethnologists as its curators, its collections in those lines are most complete. This palace in a park contains in its first hall life-sized figures and groups illustrating the many races, tribes, and types of men in the empire, from the blue-eyed men of the Northwest to the inkiest Tamil and Andaman Islander. There is a distracting show of textiles and embroideries, of beasts, birds, metal-work, wood and ivory carving, and such treasures of sculptured relics from Buddhist ruins that the India of fifteen and twenty centuries ago is as well portrayed. The guide knew nothing about any of these things, and to our questions answered moodily: "If your ladyship wishes me to tell you of the Mutiny, I can. If you will come down-stairs, I will explain the model of the Residency." Arrived at the model, the parrot glibly read off the names printed on each tiny roof, wall, and gate. "This is the Bailly Gate. This is the hospital," etc., etc. "Yes, yes," we answered. "We can read that. You go on and explain the model, and we will follow you." "But, your ladyship," wailed the parrot, "I am explaining it to you
