ON THE CITY WALL.
LALUN is a member of the most ancient profession in the world. Lilith was her very-great-grandmamma, and that was before the days of Eve as every one knows. In the West, people say rude things of Lalun's profession, and write lectures about it and distribute the lectures to young persons in order that Morality may be preserved. In the East where the profession is hereditary, descending from mother to daughter, nobody writes letters or takes any notice, and that is a distinct proof of the inability of the East to manage its own affairs.
Lalun's real husband, for even ladies of Lalun's profession in the East must have husbands, was a great, big jujube-tree. Her Mamma, who had married a fig, spent ten thousand rupees on Lalun's wedding, which was blessed by forty-seven clergymen of Mamma's church, and distributed five thousand rupees in charity to the poor. And that was the custom of the land. The advantages of having a jujube-tree for a husband are obvious. You cannot hurt his feelings, and he looks imposing.
Lalun's husband stood on the plain outside the City walls, and Lalun's house was upon the East wall facing the river. If you fell from the broad window-seat you dropped thirty feet sheer into the City ditch. But if you stayed where you should and looked forth, you saw all the cattle of the City being driven down to water, the students of the Government College playing cricket, the high grass and trees that fringed the riverbank, the great sand-bars that ribbed the river, the red tombs of dead Emperors beyond the river and, very far away through the blue heat-haze, a speck of the snows of the Himalayas.
Wali Dad used to lie in the window-seat for hours at a time watching this view. He was a young Mahommedan who was suffering acutely from education of the English variety
