and muse, the heart swells, and the thought wells up, Lo, God is here! and we feel as if it would be a relief to weep.

We go out and sit down on the front steps, while the sun fringes the West with those orange robes so peculiar to the lands of the East. The fragrant air is stirred only by the evening flutter of the birds which serve to mark the stillness, and silence, and peace that reign around. The subdued light seems to add new charms to the gorgeous coloring of the Oriental flowers, while the water that wells up from the Jumna and through its polished basin rolls in a calm, broad crystal stream from the platform to the gate, through the midst of the garden, reminds us of the river of life. Soon the moon comes forth attended by her train, showing the beauties of the Taj, softened in her beams. Now let us enter the building again. The magistrate, who kindly attends us, has, without our knowledge, sent thirteen or fourteen coolies before us, to stand in the arches above and below. At a signal each kindles a Bengal light, in whose mingled blaze the brilliant stones and polished marble are reflected. Presently, as the lights. burn dim, and while we stand within the palisade, beside the official tombs, looking up at the star of the dome directly overhead, a native,

who had gone down into the dark vault in which the ashes of the noble dead are inurned, utters a few solemn words that come up like an organ peal, and go echoing from arch to arch, majestic as distant thunder, but varied as the aerial harp, like the spirit of the past coming up from the grave, and lingering around the memorials of its love before it reascends to God.

We seem to be in the presence of the charming Momtaza Tumanee-she of the divinely delicate face, with an eye more beautiful than the evening star, and locks clustering on her bosom more decorative than the feathers of the peacock. We call to mind that terrible day when the palace was oppressed, and the servants were afraid, and the physicians were assembled, and the ministers' wives gathered silently in the chamber, and the priests with tremulous voices read prayers, and the trembling nurses rubbed the feet and hands of the poor Empress, and the Emperor racked his mind for words of solace and comfort to the Queen, and when, at last, she ordered her gems and jewels to be brought to her bedside, and said: "Pardon all my faults, and every unkind word. I have lived with you through joy and sorrow. God has made you a great Emperor, and given you worlds to rule, and sons and daughters to perpetuate your

name; but now I must leave you, and be a traveler to worlds unknown. Build me such a tomb as the world never saw." And the parting husband and wife wept and convulsively laughed and cried as they talked of death, and the promise was made and received.

Round all things human cluster painful associations. Passing out of the building a native says: "Alas! how many admire this structure who consider not the tears and toils in which it was built!" During seventeen years 20,000 workmen were forced to labor upon it without compensation, and even their rations were curtailed by rapacious officials, so that great distress and unusual mortality prevailed among them. Could this beautiful marble tell its own story, it might be one of sighs and tears. The noblest productions in art, in science, and in song are generally pressed from crushed souls. Besides this enforced labor, $8,750,000 was taken from the capital of the country when money was from three to five times its present value.

There is another painful consideration connected with the Taj. Though complete in itself, it is only a part of the design of the Emperor. He intended to erect a tomb for himself on the opposite side of the river of equal beauty and magnificence with his wife's, and to connect the

two by a bridge with railings of solid silver; but the children, on whose account, in accordance with their mother's dying request, he abstained from a second marriage, proved ingrates, inaugurated civil wars, imprisoned their aged father, put out his eyes, and crippled his empire. Rarely is it given in this world to perfect a grand design.

IV.

AGRA TO DELHI.

ROM Agra we went by Ghary to Futtepore

FRO

Sikra. On the way we were hindered by a balky horse; which reminds us that all the horses in India are poor, except such as are imported from Cabul or from England, and these can not perform much service on account of the heat of the country. They are seldom driven more than ten miles at a time. A syce attends each horse, running behind the carriage. A syce can go much farther in a day than any horse. When the horse has completed his journey the syce feeds him, covers him, and walks him home. If you keep two horses in India you must have two syces; but it must be remembered that the syce cuts the grass for the horse the year round. Hay is not provided, as it is not necessary. The horses to be hired at the livery stable or dak are very poorly managed. We seldom hired a horse ghary without having trouble and delay. The