hatred between the men of the two religions is something one slowly realizes. The Mohammedan despises the Hindu and his sacred cow, and loves to kill and eat the peacock, while, in return, the Hindu delights in defiling Mohammedan precincts with the loathed dog and pig; and in Lahore the Sikhs are against both religions and have long scores to settle. In "On the City Walls," Kipling shows the turmoil accompanying any religious festival. The Mohammedan deeply hates the babu, but until the recent establishment of the Aligarh College had made no effort to put forward Mohammedan youth as rival to the glib Bengali in preparing for public service.
The street crowds of Lahore were more picturesque even than those of Delhi. A different type of man had appeared overnight, or rather the occasional whiskered giants seen on the Chandni Chauk were here universal—more beard, more turban, yards and yards more cloth in the baggy trousers and shoulder shawls. The long coats of the Persians, the flaring, crossed Chinese coat of Turkestan and Tibet appeared, and there were stray Afghans, too, picturesque and ferocious giants, wearing peaked turbans, sheepskin coats, and striped shoulder shawls. When we had left the orderly civil lines and had gone through the city gates, we entered the land of the Arabian Nights, more of color, incident, and picturesqueness to be seen in the bazaars of Lahore than anywhere else in India. Queer, ramshackle houses towered along the narrow streets, some frescoed in colors, their fronts broken by balconies, loggias, bay-windows, and latticings of dark, carved
