XIX.
A MOTLEY ARMY.
January 7.
AN artist friend told me how to see the review of chiefs' retinues to-day. He said:—** Don't be satisfied with sitting in that Amphitheatre and seeing them ^Q> round like a circus. Get up early, and watch them arrive on the plain outside. That's the place to see things." It was rather a trial to turn out before seven, when the State Ball had kept one from bed until after four ; but it was worth it. The plain was covered with a most amazing throng. The very first group that met the gaze was a gang of Arabs armed with ancient muskets, cheek by jowl with a knot of Shans carryingmurderous dahs and smoking big cheroots. The wholescene was a medley of mediaevalism. It was an aspect of India that was a revelation to people who have clung to beaten tracks. Even experienced political officers, familiar with native states, had to admit that many types were strange to them, many costumes absolutely unknown. And I met a man from Bombay who exclaimed : — " I thought I knew India, but feel now as though I had lived in Chicago all my life. This is a new world to me." Perhaps these first impressions were a little too pronounced. After all, even this was not quite the real India. Many of the dresses had only been prepared for the occasion. But it was the India of a century ago, reproduced
