UR stay in Agra was short, but it would have been impossible to have left India without seeing the Taj. This building is said to be the most beautiful in the world. As we came into Agra in the early morning the familiar lines of the Taj-familiar from study of pictures and photographs-loomed up in the morning air. You have a view of the building for some time before entering the city. The first view was not impressive, and as we looked at the towers of the Taj, and the white marble walls that reflected the rays of the rising sun, it seemed to be a beautiful building as a temple, and no more. Perhaps the long night ride may have had something to do with our indifference to art, for the ride had been severe and distressing, and it was pleasant to find any shelter and repose. The General and 3 Mrs. Grant went to the house of Mr. Laurence, the nephew of Lord Laurence, and a member of one of the ruling families of India. The remainder of the party found quarters in a hotel, the only one I believe in the place, a straggling, barn-like building, or series of buildings, over which an American flag was flying. Indian hotel life is not the best way of seeing India, as most travelers in passing through the country are entertained in private houses, bungalows of the officials, mess quarters of the officers, or missionary stations. The Agra hotel seemed to have been built for the millennium, when all shall be good and crime unknown. There were no gates or windows, no doors—all was open. The rooms all ran into one another, and the boarders seemed to live on a principle of association. I never knew who was the landlord, never saw a servant in authority. Everybody seemed to keep the hotel, and when you wanted anything you simply went and took it. Mr. Borie was accommodated with an apartment on the ground floor; the others quartered above him. upon After dressing we called on our friend and found him surrounded by all the merchants of the town. The moment a Sahib comes to Agra the whole town comes to see him, and opens a bazaar at his door, and sits there all day with carbuncles, garnets, sandal-wood, arms, mosaics, photographs. If you walk across the way to breakfast, you are the center of a chattering group who force their wares upon you, and if you give them any encouragement, by which I mean if you do not inflict them personal violence, which none of us were disposed to do, they will invade your chamber and nestle at your bedside as you sleep. The forte of the Hindoo is patience, and he believes that if he waits you will buy. So when you tell your merchant you do not want anything, that you have resolved to buy nothing, that you have no money, he calmly sits on his haunches and waits. If you make a small purchase for charity's sake, on the principle of giving a shilling to an organ-grinder to get rid of him, it only gives the merchant courage and his friends courage, and they all come and wait. to read or write, and look up. You sit down in your room There is a bearded Moslem |