Etymologically Mukkun is a man of lamps, and, when he has brushedyour boots and stowed them away under your bed, putting the left booton the right side and vice versa, in order that the toes may pointoutwards, as he considers they should, then he addresses himself tothis part of his duty. 0ld Bombayites can remember the days ofcocoanut, when he had to begin his operations during the cold seasonby putting a row of bottles out in the sun to melt the frozen oil;but kerosine has changed all that, and he has nothing to do but totrim the wick into that fork-tailed pattern in which he delights, andwhich secures the minimum of light with the maximum destruction ofchimneys, to smear the outside of each lamp with his greasy fingers,to conjure away a gallon or so of oil, and to meet remonstrance witha kid-like query, "Do I drink kerosene oil?" Then he unbends, andgives himself up to a gentle form of recreation in which he findsmuch enjoyment. This is to perch on a low wall or huge stone at thegarden gate, and watch the carriages and horses as they pass by.0ther Mussauls, ghorawallas, and passing ice coolies stop and perchbeside him, and sometimes an ayah or two, with a perambulator and itsweary little occupant, grace the gathering. I suppose the topics ofthe day are discussed, the chances of a Russian invasion, thedearness of rice, and the events which led to the dismissal of Mr.Smith's very ancient Mussaul Canjee. Then the time for the lighting of lampsarrives, and Mukkun returns to his duties.