Delhi is a striking illustration of the passion for building which possessed the Mogul emperors. There is one Delhi, too

well known to the British nation, who in 1857 watched with bated breath the movements of the little band of 8000 men who made believe to be besieging the town with its army of 30,000 rebels armed and desperate. But known to history there is not one Delhi but forty-five square miles of Delhis. The advantages of the site on which the present city stands were always clear to the old city builders. But, sometimes because Delhi had been rooted up by an invader, even oftener because the reigning emperor desired to associate his own name with the city, Delhi was always being rebuilt somewhere within a square of forty-five miles.

The present city was built by Shah Jehan about the middle of the seventeenth century. Five and a half miles are enclosed within its ramparts of red granite, battlemented and turreted. It has twelve gates, the name of one, the Cashmere Gate, being imperishable as long as English history shall be told. Of the ancient Delhis there remain only ruins, the best known surrounding the Kootub Minar, the loftiest column in the world. At the present time it stands 240 feet high,

tapering from a base of fifty feet in diameter to a summit of thirteen feet. When first built it stood sixty feet higher. Its form is peculiar being divided by heavy balconies into seven stories, the first three being of red sandstone and the last two of white marble. Six bands carrying inscriptions encircle the basement story of the tower. Some of them contain passages from the Koran, others hymn the praises of successive sultans who built the tower or from time to time repaired it.

Like Agra, Delhi has its fort enclosing the palace of the emperor. It extends for a mile along the bank of the Jumna and is a mile and a half in circuit. On the three sides facing the town there rises a wall of red sandstone forty feet high, flanked with turrets and cupolas. The palace has suffered more grievously than those at Agra. Shah Jehan made the place too tempting for the times in which he lived.

"Ach Gott," Blucher whispered as he looked round upon London, driven through it an honoured guest after the peace which followed on Waterloo, "what a place to loot!"

The thoughts of neighbouring kings turned with equal tenderness toward Delhi when they heard of the treasures with which Shah

Jehan had loaded it. There was the Peacock Throne, six feet long and four feet broad, of solid gold inlaid with precious stones. Twelve pillars of gold supported the canopy, wrought of the same precious metal and trimmed with a deep fringe of pearls. On each side of the throne stood two umbrellas, beside which King Coffee's sunshade was a worthless rag. Shah Jehan's umbrellas, symbols of his imperial state, were made of crimson velvet, royally embroidered with gold thread and pearls, with handles eight feet long of solid gold flashing with diamonds. In the rainy season a stout seven-and-sixpenny gingham would have been of more use.

But these umbrellas had attractions of their own which proved irresistible to the Persian Nadir Shah, who swooped down on Delhi, rolled up the umbrellas, and took them off to Teheran, together with the Peacock Throne, with its back cunningly wrought in jewels so as to represent an outspread peacock's tail. The throne itself, not to mention the umbrellas, was worth six millions sterling to the Persian. He was so well satisfied that he did not too carefully strip the palace, and when in later years the Maharattas took their turn, they found, amongst other things, the silver filigree ceiling of the throne-room, which they

melted down into a block of silver worth £170,000.

Of these barbaric splendours there is scarcely any trace left. Of the Peacock's Throne there remains only the marble block on which its glories were uplifted. The audience chamber, a square marble pavilion, was transformed into a ball-room when the Prince of Wales visited. Delhi, and fountains plashed, flowers bloomed, and gay company gathered as they had been wont to do in the time of Shah Jehan. But that was an accidental and unrepeated reflection of glories dead and gone. Leading out of the hall is a fine room with a balcony, on which Aurungzebe was wont to take his pipe and his ease, and watch the elephants fight. on the bank of the Jumna which runs below.

Here also is the Zenana, used as the messroom of the 12th after Delhi was stormed. There is an underground passage of plain stone steps, by which the last King of Delhi, an Indian "Mr. Smith" without the umbrella, fled when the Cashmere Gate was blown in. Less fortunate than Louis Philippe, Bahadur Shah was caught by Major Hodson when he had got as far as the tomb of the Emperor Humayoon, and sent a prisoner to Rangoon.

The Turkish bath is not the least beautiful

structure in the palace. The walls are charmingly inlaid, the pavement being formed of plaques of plain marble, the joinings so skilfully hidden with inlaying of bloodstone, black marble and yellow, that the floor seems one massive block. In 1857, after the storming of Delhi, the palace was used as barracks for the British soldier, who, having leisure and bayonet-points ready, pursued that search for the beautiful alluded to at Agra and elsewhere. So diligent was the pursuit, and so indiscriminate the choice, that wide spaces of wall have been reduced to patch-work, great gaps showing where precious stones had shone. The ceilings have been whitewashed, doubtless during the occupation of the place as a barrack; but here and there glimpses of the old paint and gilding are caught.

One specialty about the palace is the occasional plaques of marble, so thin that the sunlight suffuses it from without, as if it were horn. Another is the mosaic in precious stones, representing flowers, fruits, birds, and beasts. This decoration was lavished on the hall of public audience, where sat the Mogul kings in the days of their greatness. This spot was greatly affected by that free-handed patron of art, the British soldier, and when he marched out of Delhi, after saving the