56 A Sportswoman in India 



Before us stretched a street crammed with natives, 

 all walking, all talking, all dressed in white and 

 scarlet and blue and yellow every conceivable 

 colour. Sikhs, Afridis, Afghans, Yusufzaies, Pathans, 

 Hindoos, Mohammedans, all meet in Peshawur. Most 

 of them are armed, with quaint knives and what 

 not concealed in their draperies. One realises at 

 once what it is to be the only Englishwoman among 

 thousands of natives. Every eye is on you not 

 rude nor staring, but you feel eyes everywhere ; and 

 you begin to realise that were there no cantonments 

 outside, you would probably have one of the many 

 knives in your back, which reflection puts you on 

 your mettle. The secret of the British power in the 

 East is that they have no fear. 



The fascinating bazaars on either side held the 

 native sellers and their workmen ; we bought some 

 of their quaint waxwork, and slippers of all colours 

 with turned-up toes ; farther on carpets and saddle- 

 bags and poshteens were to be had ; the silver was 

 of a very rough description. 



I have never seen such a veritable rabbit-warren 

 of humanity as Peshawur native city : the little mud- 

 coloured, flat-roofed houses seemed as though they 

 could not get near enough one another, and were 

 piled and squeezed into every atom of space, tier 

 after tier, gallery after gallery ; and from those down 

 the street hung out carpets, silks, embroideries, 

 forming a carnival of colour which would satisfy the 

 most thirsty soul, waving above the strange Oriental 



