Notwithstanding the slight estimation in which the sex is held by the fierce and jealous Arab—­jealous more from self-love than from any regard to the object that creates this feeling—­there is still much of the romantic to be found in his domestic history.  English travellers, who have acquired a competent knowledge of the language, may collect materials for poems as tragical and touching as those which Lord Byron loved to weave.  I could relate several in this place, picked up by my fellow-travellers, but as they may at some period or other desire to give them to the public themselves, it would be scarcely fair to anticipate their intention.

We now began to look out with some anxiety for the arrival of the steamer at Bombay, speculating upon the chances of finding friends able to receive us.  As we drew nearer and nearer, the recollection of the good hotels which had opened their hospitable doors for us in the most unpromising places, caused us to lament over the absence of similar establishments at the scene of our destination.  Bombay has been aptly denominated the landing-place of India; numbers of persons who have no acquaintance upon the island pass through it on their way to Bengal, or to the provinces, and if arriving by the Red Sea, are totally unprovided with the means of making themselves comfortable in the tents that may be hired upon their landing.

A tent, to a stranger in India, appears to be the most forlorn residence imaginable, and many cannot be reconciled to it, even after long custom.  To those, however, who do not succeed in obtaining invitations to private houses, a tent is the only resource.  It seems scarcely possible that the number of persons, who are obliged to live under canvas on the Esplanade, would not prefer apartments at a respectable hotel, if one should be erected for the purpose; yet it is said that such an establishment would not answer.  Bombay can never obtain the pre-eminence over Calcutta, which it is so anxious to accomplish, until it will provide the accommodation for visitors which the City of Palaces has afforded during several years past.  However agreeable the overland journey may be, it cannot be performed without considerable fatigue.

The voyage down the Red Sea, in warm weather especially, occasions a strong desire for rest; even those persons, therefore, who are so fortunate as to be carried off to friends’ houses, immediately upon their arrival, would much prefer the comfort and seclusion of a hotel, for the first day or two at least.  The idea of going amongst strangers, travel-soiled and travel-worn, is anything but agreeable, more particularly with the consciousness that a week’s baths will scarcely suffice to remove the coal-dust collected in the steamers of the Red Sea:  for my own part, I contemplated with almost equal alarm the prospect of presenting myself immediately upon the termination of my voyage, or of being left, on the charge of eight rupees per diem, to the tender mercies of the vessel.