212 NARROW STREETS. 



poverty-stricken appearance. The only public 

 building is a very shabby-looking mosque, 

 covered with lacquered tiles in lamentable dis- 

 repair. The streets of Khyrpoor are so nar- 

 row that in many places there is barely room 

 for two carts to pass each other in the principal 

 thoroughfares ; but carts are not numerous, and 

 the Meer's old phaeton is the only carriage in 

 His Highness' dominions, which is fortunate, as, 

 requiring more space than a cart, there must, 

 inevitably, be a dead-lock if a second vehicle of 

 equal size were encountered. Meer Shah No- 

 waz, too, is a very Jehu in coachmanship, and 

 on one occasion his furious driving nearly 

 cost me my life. At a sudden turn we were 

 all but over an old woman, and to save her 

 the prince di'ove over the steps of a house door, 

 the mares being at the time beyond control, and 

 all but running away. The carriage tm^ned 

 right over, and I was underneath ; Meer Shah 

 Nowaz was projected like a shell from a mortar, 

 and escaped unhurt, but I was severely cut and 

 bruised, and probably should have been killed, 

 had not the horse-keepers and two silver sticks 

 in front stopped the mares at the moment. 

 Some few Hindoos have tolerable houses, and 



