have visited, the wealth and beauty of nature in Hindostan. The landscape seems to be flushed with roses, with all varieties of the rose, and that most sunny and queenly of flowers seems to strew your path and bid you welcome, as you saunter down the avenues and up the ascending slope that leads to the shrine of a husband's love and a mother's consecration. There is a row of fountains which throw out a spray and cool the air, and when you pass the trees and come to the door of the building its greatness comes upon you-its greatness and its beauty. Mr. Keene took us to various parts of the garden, that we might see it from different points of view. I could see no value in one view beyond the other. And when our friend, in the spirit of courteous kindness, pointed out the defects of the building-that it was too much this, or too much that, or would have been perfect if it had been a little less of something else—there was just the least disposition to resent criticism and to echo the opinion of Mr. Borie, who, as he stood looking at the exquisite towers and solemn marble walls, said: "It was worth coming to India to see the Taj." I value that criticism because it is that of a practical business man concerned with affairs, and not disposed to see a poetic side to any subject. What he saw in the Taj was the idea that its founder meant to convey-the idea of solemn, overpowering, and unapproachable beauty.

As you enter you see a vast dome, every inch of which is enriched with inscriptions in Arabic, verses from the Koran, engraved marble, mosaics, decorations in agate and jasper. In the center are two small tombs of white marble, modestly carved. These cover the resting-place of the Emperor and his wife, whose bodies are in the vault underneath. In other days the Turkish priests read the Koran from the gallery, and you can imagine how solemn must have been the effect of the words chanted in a priestly cadence by the echo that answers and again answers the chanting of some tune by one of the party. The more closely you examine the Taj the more you are perplexed to decide whether its beauty is to be found in the general effect of the design, as seen from afar, or the minute and finished decorations which cover every wall. The general idea of

the building is never lost. There is nothing trivial about the Taj, no grotesque Gothic molding or flowering Corinthian columns-all is cold and white and chaste and pure. You may form an idea of the size of the Taj from the figures of the measurement of the Royal Engineers. From the base to the top of the center dome is 139%1⁄2 feet; to the summit of the pinnacle, 243% feet. It stands on the banks of the river Jumna, and it is said that Shah Jehan intended to build a counterpart in black marble in which his own ashes should rest. But misfortunes came to Shah Jehan-ungrateful children, strife, deposition—and when he died his son felt that the Taj was large enough for both father and mother. One is almost glad that the black-marble idea never germinated. The Taj, by itself alone, is unapproachable. A duplicate would have detracted from its peerless beauty.

We remained in the gardens until the sun went down, and we had to hurry to our carriages not to be caught in the swiftly descending night. The gardener came to Mrs. Grant with an offering of roses. Some of us, on our return from Jeypore, took advantage of the new moon to make another visit. We had been told that the moonlight gave a new glory even to the Taj. It was the night before we left Agra, and we could not resist the temptation, even at the risk of keeping some friends waiting who had asked us to dinner, of a moonlight view. a new moon, which made our view imperfect. But such a view as was given added to the beauty of the Taj. The cold lines of the marble were softened by the shimmering silver light. The minarets seemed to have a new height, and the dome had a solemnity as became the canopy of the mother and queen. We strolled back, now and then turning for another last view of the wonderful tomb. The birds were singing, the air was heavy with the odors of the rose-garden, and the stillness-the twilight stillness-all added to the beauty of the mausoleum, and combined to make the memory of our visit the most striking among the many wondrous things we have seen in Hindostan. Among Indian princes there is none who stands better in eyes of the government than the Maharajah of Jeypore. I

the

am afraid none of us knew much about this noble prince, but wherever we went in India we were told we should go to Jeypore. The programme of the General had not included this tour; but when we came to Allahabad Sir George Couper made such an impression upon the General by his description of Jeypore that it was clear that unless we saw Jeypore we had seen.

nothing in India. Accordingly our programme was revised; a day was taken from Agra, a day from Delhi, a day from Cawnpore, and so it became possible for us to come. So we took to reading about his Highness and learned several facts. The prince is thus inscribed in the chronicles: His Highness Siramadi Rajahai Hindustan; Raj Rajender; Sri Maharajah Dhiraj Sewae, Sir Ram Singh Bahadur, Knight Grand Commander of the Most Exalted Order of the Star of India. He enjoys a personal salute of twenty-one guns-the highest salute given to any

VOL. II.-2

Indian prince-given only to those who have been submissive and loyal to England or who have rendered the Crown a distinguished service. He is commonly called Maharajah Ram Singh. When he wrote his name on his photograph he signed simply Ram Singh. He is forty-four years of age. His territory is 15,250 square miles, supporting a population of nearly two millions, and yielding a revenue of about $24,000,000 annually.

Rama was son of the King
Deity. A king who lived

In the literature of India there are two poems-the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" of Hindostan-known as the Mahábárata" and the "Rámáyana." These poems tell of the exploits of princes of a lunar race, and princes of a solar race. The great prince of the solar race was Rama. of Oude, and an incarnation of the near him had a beautiful daughter. He promised to bestow this daughter upon the prince who could bend the bow with which the god Shiva had destroyed the other gods. Rama broke the bow and won the beautiful princess. Rama was to have ascended the throne. His father had among his wives one who was anxious for her son to succeed, and she induced the father to banish Rama and give preference to her own son. This is worth noting as among the disadvantages of polygamy. So Rama wandered off. The King of Ceylon had a sister who fell in love with Rama, and asked him to desert the beautiful princess for whom he had bent the bow of the gods. Rama disdained the overture, and punished the lady by cutting off her ears and nose. Out of revenge a reprincess was induced

lative of the mutilated and despised Ceylon to carry away the beautiful wife of Rama. The miscreant who performed this office, a monster with ten heads and twenty arms, came in the shape of a beggar, and carried off the princess in his chariot through the air to Ceylon. Rama raised an army and marched upon Ceylon. Battles were fought and the princess recovered, and her purity was established by the ordeal of fire. This ordeal was witnessed by three hundred and thirty millions of gods, and the beautiful princess coming out unscathed, the poem ended in the happiness and triumph of Rama.

It is well to know something about your friends before you

visit them, and we rooted this information about Rama out of our histories, because from Rama the Maharajah of Jeypore claims descent. He traces his own line back to 967, to Dhola Rai, and Dhola Rai was thirty-fourth in descent from Rama. We hear a good deal about good blood and long descent and Norman ancestors, but here is a prince whose line goes back nearly a thousand years, and then rises into the heavens and claims the universe among its progenitors. Something must be allowed for Indian imagination and the necessities of verse. But the poem which tells of the adventures of Rama and his princess is supposed to tell the story of the invasion of Southern India by the Aryans, one of the earliest events in Indian history. As a consequence the Maharajah of Jeypore may fairly rank among the most ancient families in the world. Among his ancestors was Jai Singh II., a prince remarkable for his learning, especially in astronomy and mathematics. Jai Singh II. founded the city of Jeypore. The present Maharajah has always been a warm friend of the English, and when the Prince of Wales came to see him he expended $500,000 in entertaining his Royal Highness. We left Agra about noon, the day being warm and oppressive. Our ride was through a low, uninteresting country, broken by ranges of hills. The railway is narrow gauge, and, as I learned from one of the managers, who accompanied us, has proved a success, and strengthens the arguments in favor of the narrow-gauge system. It was night before we reached Jeypore. On arriving at the station the Maharajah was present with his ministers, and the English resident, Dr. Hendley, who acted in place of Colonel Beynon. As the General descended, the Maharajah, who wore the ribbon and star of the Order of India, advanced and shook hands, welcoming him to his dominions. The Maharajah is a small, rather fragile person, with a serious, almost a painful, expression of countenance, but an intelligent, keen face. He looked like a man of sixty. His movements were slow, impassive—the movements of old age. This may be a mannerism, however, for on studying his face you could see that there is some youth in it. On his brow were the crimson emblems of his caste-the warrior