they have hitherto been held by their Brahman teachers, and justifies Dr. Hunter's description of Indian Government schools as "those pestles and mortars for the superstition and priestcraft of India."

One very remarkable point connected with these schools (in which young India learns that under the rule of India's Empress all professions are open to all competitors, of whatever caste) is, that the proud Mohammedans stand aloof, refusing to attend schools which are open to all men, irrespective of birth or creed. Consequently they fail to qualify for Government examinations and employment. The practical result of this is, that although they number one-third of the whole population of Lower Bengal, they only hold one-tenth of the whole Government patronage. Out of 504 Government appointments in Bengal, only fifty-three are held by Mohammedans. Thus the race, who, in the last century, were the mighty rulers of Hindoostan, are now falling out of power simply because of their own exclusiveness.

Having thus glanced over the principal great. changes of faith which by turns have held supreme sway in this land— Aboriginal, Pure Aryan, these blending to produce Brahmanism; next Buddhist, Jain, very degenerate Brahman, Mohammedan; and now once more Brahman, or Hindoo-we will leave the twin cities of Muttra and Bindrabund to their many memories, and travel northward to the great Mohammedan city of Delhi.

NOTE. Here is the result of the census giving the number of Her Majesty's subjects in Hindoostan in A.D. 1881, according to their creed

CHAPTER VIII.

DELIII.

The Punjab-Modern Delhi-A luxurious Camp-The Cashmere Gate-The Mutiny-Capture of the Great Mogul-Past history-Skinner's ChurchA Novel Studio-The Great Mosque-The Ancient City-Successive Emperors-Magnificent Tombs-Deep Wells-Homes of the PoorBroken Earthenware-Fakirs-No Old Dwellings-Stone ObservatoryAt the base of the Kootub-A Paradise for Artists-The Giant MinaretHindoo Columns-The Iron Pillar-" Dhilli, the Unstable."

IF Agra held us spell-bound as in a dream of all that is pure and lovely in architecture, Delhi remains stamped on our memories as the very embodiment of power and strength, a dwelling-place of giants. Nowhere will you find more marvellous proofs of the might of the Mohammedan empire, or be more impressed with reverence for the master minds which designed such wondrous structures, than in these two cities of the Moguls.

Fain would I linger in telling you of the marvels of Delhi, of the great walled city wherein the wicked king so recently held his vile but gorgeous court, of the solemn beauty of the mighty mosques wherein the white-robed worshippers assemble in throngs so vast; and, above all, of the wild, silent desolation of the great plain beyond, thickly strewn with stupendous ruins of Cyclopean forts, huge tombs with gigantic gateways-the smallest of which would make the finest of our old English bars seem utterly puny and contemptible and marble mosques, whose glittering white, contrasts with the world of carved red sandstone on every side. Here

each successive Emperor of the mighty Pathan dynasty has left his mark, and you may wander in every direction over an expanse of four-and-twenty miles, exploring the wonders of this marvellous world of ruins.

We had bidden adieu to the North West Provinces (which include Agra, Cawnpore, and Allahabad), and were now in the Punjab, or land of five rivers; a name which, like the Doab, two rivers, is a compound of Hindoo and Persian; ab, meaning water in the latter tongue. The five rivers are, I believe, the Beeas, the Thelum, the Ravee, the Sutlej, and the Chenab.

The modern city of Delhi (Dhilli, the Unstable), is called by the natives Shah-Jehan-abad, or the city of that great Mohammedan Emperor whose work we have already seen at Agra. He founded this city in 1631. Its streets, palaces, mosques, and mighty fort of red sandstone, (which even now are marvels of strength and beauty,) covered a space seven miles in circumference, which he inclosed by immense walls of the same dark red stone, pierced by seven great gates. On the third side, the city is washed by the blue waters of the Jumna, from whose brink rise the domes of stately mosques with their tall graceful minarets, like fingers pointing heavenwards.

Strangely in contrast with these memorials of Mohammedan conquerors, is the one great work of the present rulers, a work still so new, that the native mind has not yet ceased to marvel at it; I mean the railway, by which we had already travelled a thousand miles from Calcutta, and which, had we been disposed to continue our journey, would have carried us right up to Lahore without a pause. Now it brought us into the city of Shah-Jehan, actually passing through his palace wall, and the picturesque old five-arched bridge; and almost touching the grand state-prison of Selim Ghur.

Our first days in Delhi were spent just outside the walls of the present city, in the luxurious camp of an old friend, whose work involved such perpetual locomotion that his camp was literally his home; and a very cosy home it was, with large double-roofed drawing-room tent and dining-room tent, and capital tents for

AN INDIAN CAMP HOME.

203

friends. These formed one group, while our hostess's sleeping tent and nurseries were inclosed by a high canvas wall, within which the merriest and rosiest little ones might play to their heart's content, and certainly they proved that their patriarchal life agreed with them. The servants and cooking were established somewhere in the background; while, under shadow of the trees, a flock of forty camels browsed, or grunted or roared, as they felt inclined.

The camp was pitched near the Cashmere Gate, a name recalling brave deeds of daring in the terrible days of 1857. Our host had himself served throughout that campaign, and beneath these very walls had received such a wound, as had helped to stamp those scenes indelibly on his memory. So, as we wandered together, step by step over all that hard-fought ground, our thoughts could not but revert to the terrible scenes of fighting and bloodshed that had been here enacted, and in which we knew that he had borne so gallant a part.

Here was the spot where a breach was effected in the walls; here a garden, now one tangle of roses and jessamine, where blood then flowed like water. Behind us lay the great rocky ridge, a sort of back-bone to the country, where on a commanding height the British army lay encamped, like an avenging legion, ready to sweep down upon the polluted city, and wash it free from the stain of English blood, and from the un-utterable wickedness that had so long lurked in its high places.

On that ridge of glorious memory we lingered in the cool of the evening, looking down upon the beautiful city, whose clustering domes and minarets, rising from the mass of rich green foliage, seemed as though embosomed in coolest gardens; though in truth it all looked hot and dry enough, as we drew nearer.

A tall monolith bearing date B.C. 300, was brought here from Meerut, and marks the boundary of the British entrenchments; where, through those long burning summer months, while the foe raged without, and cholera within the camp, the Standard of England still floated securely, in the sight of her foes, never to be lowered, till it was transferred to the walls of the Great Mogul.

In the wonderful calm and stillness of the short twilight, we tried to picture the scenes that were here enacted, when from the city at our feet, shells sometimes reached the very spot where we stood; and when treachery and death lurked on every side. Now scarcely a sound stirred the silent air, though here and there we could distinguish groups of women and little children, going on their way in perfect security.

It was easier to recall that awful time, when we stood on the drawbridge before the Cashmere Gate, one of the great gates in the fortified wall by which the British troops had resolved to enter the city. Lieutenants Salkeld and Home, R.E., led the forlorn hope, whose work it was to blow up the gates. They advanced calmly to almost certain death, bearing heavy powderbags on their heads.

The foe seem to have been paralysed by the audacity of the proceeding, and eight or ten powder-bags had been safely laid ere they recovered themselves sufficiently to fire. Salkeld fell wounded on the drawbridge, and was laid in the ditch two of his sergeants fell back mortally wounded. Salkeld lingered a few days, then died of his wounds. Home survived to fight and fall at the blowing up of another fort, at Malaghur. But they had done their work here, and done it well. A few seconds later, a terrific explosion shook the mighty walls, and the massive gateway lay shattered. Then the bugler sounded the advance, and, with a loud cheer, the storming party marched in.

But a terrible day of hand-to-hand fighting still awaited the troops; every house and every housetop was crowded with thousands of desperate men. The heat from sun and fire was so terrific that the troops were well-nigh overpowered. Their wary foes had laid open tempting cellars, well stored with arrack and the most intoxicating kinds of spirit. By command of General Nicholson vast quantities of these were destroyed; but it was impossible to prevent the soldiers from, in some instances, transgressing, and there is reason to fear that a terrible number of those who touched and tasted the accursed thing fell easy victims to the foe.