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 journeys to India I passed through Paris, and I asked for a guide from an English travelling agent. A tall, handsome man of about thirty was sent to attend me, and he proved to be everything that could be desired. Learning that I was going to Madras, he told me that his ancestors had been merchants there. I asked his name, and he presented me with his card, which bore the name of Moorat.

The native merchants of Georgetown are many of them descendants of the men who were contemporary with the first settlers. Mr. Reddy Branson, who knew more about them than any man in Madras, said that the memory of their old rights was still cherished, and that the papers which confirmed those rights were jealously preserved among the family archives. They related to the carrying of umbrellas the umbrella being more a sign of state than an article of protection against the sun and the privilege of using palanquins. One of the most highly prized of these privileges, and for which vouchers are still preserved, was permission to enter the fort in a palanquin.

The town has its squalid parts, where the streets are as unpleasant as the inhabitants can make them, in spite of a vigilant municipality; and it might not prove attractive to the casual visitor. It abounds in interest with all its memories and associations; peace and war, famine and plenty have passed over it, and fortunes have been lost and won. In recent years it has been adorned with handsome buildings the Law Courts, the General Post-office, the Madras Bank and others which have given a new note to the town; but it cannot pretend to be on a level in architectural beauty with its sister cities of Bombay and Calcutta.

Between Georgetown and Mylapore is Triplicane, the Mohammedan quarter of Madras. Through the centre