The camel is an imperturbable beast. He makes no display, shows no violent critical temper, does not jump or prance or resent the goading or the bad language. He moves his head to one side or the other, gives you an affectionate, imploring look, as though appealing to your sympathies, but does not move. He has gone beyond reason. He throws himself upon your generosity, but will not move.

Here we were in India, on a

lonely highway, the sun going down. Here the sun falls like

a drop curtain at the play. There is no twilight. In an instant the sable clouds sweep over the earth and you are in darkness. To be belated on any road, hungry and dinner waiting, is disagreeable; but in India, with servants around you who do not know English, away from any town or village, on your way to a ruin, knowing that when night comes the lords of the jungle will come forth, was certainly not what we came to India to see. We tried all experiments to encourage the camels, even to the extent of putting our shoulders to the wheels and urging them on. This had little effect, and we

had a night bivouac on the highway if, after a long mels had not changed their minds, and, breaking y pace, carried us into the ruined city. The night and the General, when we arrived, was strolling the courtyard smoking his cigar.

remains of Futtehpoor Sikra are the ruins. The ions of the palace are given over to picnic parties The British Collector at Agra has it under his those who come are instructed to bring their food g. Mr. Lawrence, the Collector, was there to d our hotel keeper at Agra had sent all that was The General, Mrs. Grant, and Mr. Borie quartered known as the Birbul House. The remainder went awrence to another ruin about a hundred paces off, no name. The Birbul House is supposed to have ome of Akbar's daughter, or, as some think, a house ad made sacred for the women of his harem. It is a building, massive and large, and finished with a and delicacy that you never see even in patient a house alone, the mere piling of blocks of sandupon the other, the Birbul House would be a curious rious work. But when you examine it you see that arcely an inch that has not been carved and traced aster workmen. It is all stone, no wood or iron or ny kind has been used to fashion it. The workmen upon the stone, and so sure was their trust that enturies have passed since it was built, and generaripened since it was abandoned, the work is as fresh as though the artisan had only laid down his tools. d men work in those days of patience and discipline, atle is the touch of time in Hindostan.

s were found and tables were builded, and there, massive walls of Akbar's hearth, looking out upon a ed beaming Indian sky, we dined. And it seemed acrilege to bring our world-our material world from ca, our world of gossip and smoking tobacco and newspapers, of claret and champagne-into the

holy of holies of a great emperor's palace, whence he came
from wars and conflict to be soothed by gentle voices and
caressed by loving hands. We were weary with our hard day's
work, and after dinner found what rest we could. Mr. Borie
was disposed to question the absence of windows, and had
reasoned out the practicability of a midnight visit from a
leopard or a panther or a wandering beast of prey.
He con-
trasted in a few vivid and striking sentences the advantages
which Torresdale and Philadelphia possessed over even the
palace of an emperor, to the detriment of Futtehpoor Sikra,
and when a reasonable sum was suggested as a possible pur-
chasing price, declined with scorn any prospect of becoming a
land-owner in Hindostan. Our accommodations, although we
were the recipients of Mogul hospitality, were primitive, and
as you lay in the watches of the night and listened to the voices
of nature, the contrast with what she says in India and at home
was marked. The noisy beast in India is the jackal. He is
the scavenger, and in day hides in a ravine or a jungle fastness,
to come out and prowl about settlements and live on offal.
The jackal and hyena in literature are formidable, but in Indian
life are feared no more than a prowling, howling, village cur.
I do not think that any of us were sorry when the early morning
rays began to brighten up our ruined chambers, and the velvet-
footed servants, in flowing muslin gowns, came in bearing tea
and toast, and telling us that our baths were ready, and that
another leaf had been turned in the book of time.

The General does not regard early rising as a distinguishing trait, and some of the others were under the influence of his example; but Mr. Borie was up and cheerful, and rejoicing in a white pony, which some magician had brought to his feet, saddled and bridled, to view the ruins. The sun had scarcely risen, and wise travelers, like Mr. Borie, always take the cool hours for their sight-seeing. But Mr. Borie is a very wise traveler, who allows nothing to pass him, and so our party divided. Mr. Lawrence said he would wait for the General; and the early risers, under the escort of two young ladies who had been passengers on the "Venetia," with Mr. Borie leading

white pony, set out to view the ruins. To have ins of this stupendous place would have included a circumference of seven miles. There were ll worth the study. We went first to the quadyard four hundred and thirty-three feet by three ixty-six feet. On one side of this is the mosque, ble building, suffering, however, from the overandeur of the principal gateway, the finest, it is

a, looming up out of the ruins with stately and ndor, but dwarfing the other monuments and ruins. ant as an arch of triumph to the glory of the emg of Kings," "Heaven of the Court," and "Shadow There are many of these inscriptions in Arabic, a of which I find in Mr. Keene's hand-book. The stive is this: "Know that the world is a glass, vor has come and gone. Take as thine own nothan what thou lookest upon." We were shown one ere the body of a saint reposes, and also a tomb

with a marble screen work of the most exquisite character. The prevailing aspect of the architecture was Moslem, with traces of Hindoo taste and decoration. The mosque, the tombs, and the gateway are all well preserved. At one of the mosques were a number of natives in prayer, who interrupted their devotions long enough to show us the delicate tracing on the walls and beg a rupee. It was mentioned as an inducement to engage one of the guides that he had done the same office for the Prince of Wales. But one of the pleasures of wandering among these stupendous ruins is to wander alone and take in the full meaning of the work and the genius of the men who did it. The guides have nothing to tell you. The ruins to them are partly dwelling-places, pretexts for begging rupees, and the guide who came on our track insisted upon showing us a well or a tank into which men jumped from a wall eighty feet high. Mr. Borie's resolution to see everything led us to accept the offer. On our way we met the General, who was also seeing the ruins. It was proposed that we should all go to the well and see the men jump. But we could not tempt the General. He did not want to see men jump, finding no pleasure in these dangerous experiments. As we came to the well, which was a square pond, with walls of masonry, the wall above was manned with eager natives, screaming and gesticulating. Mr. Borie singled out two, who threw off their few garments and made the jump. The motion is a peculiar one. Leaping into the air they move their legs and arms so as to keep their feet down and come into the water feet foremost. The leap was certainly a daring one, but it was done safely, and the divers came hurrying up the sides of the pond shivering and chattering their teeth to claim their rupees and offer to jump all day for the same compensation.

An interesting visit, worthy of remembrance, was our drive to the Kutab. We drove out in the early morning, and our course was for eleven miles through the ruins of the ancient city. The whole way was through ruins, but it is worth noting as a peculiarity of these ancient cities that they drifted from point to point as improvements were made, and each generation