mosques; whereas the intricate and grotesque confusion of the Hindoo temples seems but a reflex of the labyrinthine mysteries of their mythology.

One thing worthy of note in these long colonnades is that they are surmounted here and there by small domes; ugly enough compared with the thousand beautiful domes dotted over the plain, but full of interest when you remember that to these Hindoos the arch was unknown, so the domes were formed by nicely posed layers of stone, laid horizontally.

I greatly fear that to any one, not having the beautiful reality before their mind's eye, all these descriptions of mosques, tombs, and gateways must become very wearisome. I keep continually thinking of a Scotchman's comment on a very lengthy sermon descriptive of the broad and narrow gates: "Eh! he was fully stawsome about the yetts !" but really I do not know how else to convey to your mind any notion of these wonderful cities.

But before passing on, I must first tell you about an extraordinary iron pillar, which stands near the base of the Kcotub; and to which the city owes its modern name. It is a solid shaft of metal, sixteen inches in diameter; it stands twenty-two feet above ground, but there seems to be a difference of opinion among engineers as to the depth to which the shaft is buried. One declares its base to be twenty-six feet below ground, while another maintains that it only extends a few feet, and terminates in a bulb like a turnip. In either case, it will ever be a marvel how such a massive column could have been produced at a single forging, and that so early as the third century of our era. It certainly would puzzle our own ironmasters to rival such work without the aid of their modern steam-machinery-a power which we can scarcely imagine to have lent its might to these Vulcans of old.

It is wrought like our finest metal, and shows no symptom of rust, though it has stood here for many centuries. It bears an inscription in Sanscrit, describing it as the "triumphal pillar of Rajah Dhava, A.D. 310, who wrote his immortal fame with his

1 Eh! but he was wearisome about the gates !

Q

sword." This however, is the only record extant of his deeds. There are several other inscriptions on the pillar, but of more modern date.

The Brahman tradition is, that this pillar was erected in the sixth century, after the stars had pointed out the auspicious moment. It went so deep that it pierced the head of the serpent god Schesnag, who supports the earth. The priests told the Rajah that thus his kingdom should endure for ever. But, like a child gardening, he could not be satisfied till he dug it up again, just to see if it were so, and sure enough the end was covered with blood. Then the priests told him that his dynasty would soon pass away. He planted the pillar again, but the serpent eluded his touch, and the pillar was thenceforth unsteady. So the priests called the name of the place Dhilli (unstable) and prophesied all manner of evil concerning the Rajah, who shortly afterwards was killed, and his kingdom seized by the Mohammedans, and since then, no Hindoo has ever reigned in Delhi.

Nevertheless, the pillar is now firm as a rock, and has even resisted the cannon of Nadir Shah, who purposely fired against it. The marks of the balls, are, however, clear enough. The Hindoos believe that so long as this column stands, the kingdom has not finally departed from them.

Now I have given you enough and to spare of dry detail, but you must picture for yourself the delight of our gipsy life among the ruins. How the long days slipped by; sometimes exploring, sometimes drawing; wandering from one deserted garden to another, sometimes among rocks, sometimes on arid plains, but almost always in utter solitude and silence, only broken by the tinkling bells of some long string of camels, whose great flat feet fell so noiselessly on the earth, that, but for the bells, we should scarcely have noticed their approach. Occasionally, a noisier chime reached us from the neighbouring village, where one of the temples has a peal of eighty-four bells, all rung by one single rope.

But the crown of delight was when at early dawn we gazed up at the mighty pillar of fire, towering to the very clouds; its

THE KOOTUB MINAR.

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summit glowing in the sun's first rays, long before the purple shadows of night had faded from the base. Then we sometimes climbed that long spiral flight of well-nigh four hundred steps,

that, like the Hindoo princess, we might catch the first gleaming light on the Jumna, and gaze far away over the vast, silent

plain.

And when the evening drew on, we took up a position within hail of the bungalow, lest any stragglers from the village should molest us; sometimes we sat on a curious old ruined pyramid, near the base of a second huge pillar, which, had it ever been completed, would have been far more gigantic than its brother, but was very early given up and left unfinished. Thence we could watch the red gold of sunset flood the plain, and once more transform the red stone column into a glowing pillar of orange fire. And as "the serpents of night" crept upward, the fire fled heavenward, till at last it vanished, and a solemn hush and silence told that the day was done.

The only sound that broke that great stillness was a faint chaunt from a Hindoo temple, so mellowed by distance, that it sounded something between a Latin litany and a Gaelic hymn. It came as a dreamy suggestion of some evening service at home, and we listened and lingered, till the mighty giant before us towered solemn and black against a deep-blue sky, lighted only by a young crescent moon with her train of glittering stars. Then in the waste wilderness around, the voices of the night began to awaken; weird cries of jackals; plaintive wails and unearthly laughing. We bethought us of the leopards which might be lurking at our very feet, and with all due speed, retreated to safer quarters.

CHAPTER IX.

MEERUT.

Life in a Military Station-The Old Church-yard—A Steadfast Elephant

The Bazaar-Itinerant Tradesmen-Jugglers-Snakes-Native Servants -War of Words, not Blows-Hindoo and Mohammedan FestivalsMonkeys-Sketching in Public-The Roast Beef of Old India-Cathedral at Sirdhana-The Begum Somroo.

We found our gipsy life in Old Delhi so thoroughly enjoyable that we sorely regretted when the time came to settle down to civilised life at Meerut. Nevertheless it was very pleasant, after some experience of Indian hotels and rest-houses, to find ourselves again at home-in an unknown country certainly, but with an unmistakably home-like feeling about the pretty drawingroom, with its comfortable sofas and arm-chairs, and fresh, bright chintz curtains, and crimson and white purdahs draping all the unsightly doors, which form such a conspicuous feature of every Indian room.

I

In the cool shade stand quaint Indian vases of some silvery metal, with delicious nosegays of roses and orange-blossoms and all manner of sweet flowers, which the máli (gardener) brings in fresh each morning. If you have any doubts of their being the produce of your own garden, you need ask no questions; nobody does so. So long as your table is duly supplied with vegetables, and your vases with flowers, you may rest satisfied. The mális are supposed to have a system of exchange or black-mail, and the 1 Portières.