A decided sensation awaits the traveler when he passes out from the pier into the street, particularly if it is his first visit to the East.  He already has had a glimpse of the gorgeous costumes of the Hindu gentleman and the priestly looking Parsees, and the long, cool white robes of the common people, for several of each class were gathered at the end of the pier to welcome friends who arrived by the steamer, but the moment that he emerges from the dock he enters a new and a strange world filled with vivid colors and fantastic costumes.  He sees his first “gherry,” a queer-looking vehicle made of bamboo, painted in odd patterns and bright tints, and drawn by a cow or a bullock that will trot almost as fast as a horse.  All vehicles, however, are now called “gherrys” in India, no matter where they come from nor how they are built—­the chariot of the viceroy as well as the little donkey cart of the native fruit peddler.

The extent of bare flesh visible—­masculine and feminine—­startles you at first, and the scanty apparel worn by the common people of both sexes.  Working women walk by with their legs bare from the thighs down, wearing nothing but a single garment wrapped in graceful folds around their slender bodies.  They look very small, compared with the men, and the first question every stranger asks is the reason.  You are told that they are married in infancy, that they begin to bear children by the time they are 12 and 14 years old, and consequently do not have time to grow; and perhaps that is the correct explanation for the diminutive stature of the women of India.  There are exceptions.  You see a few stalwart amazons, but ninety per cent or more of the sex are under size.  Perhaps there is another reason, which does not apply to the upper classes, and that is the manual labor the coolies women perform, the loads they carry on their heads and the heavy lifting that is required of them.  If you approach a building in course of erection you will find that the stone, brick, mortar and other material is carried up the ladders and across the scaffolding on the heads of women and girls, and some of these “hod carriers” are not more than 10 or 12 years old.  They carry everything on their heads, and usually it requires two other women or girls to hoist the heavy burden to the head of the third.  All the weight comes on the spine, and must necessarily prevent or retard growth, although it gives them an erect and stately carriage, which women in America might imitate with profit.  At the same time, perhaps, our women might prefer to acquire their carriage in some other way than “toting” a hodful of bricks to the top of a four-story building.