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 Copy 1 
 
 3ln 3)n&ta 
 
At tljf iEimt 0f ttjf Hafit iurbar 
 
 M. E. FITCH 
 
 [Mrs. WillianJ'Grant Fitch] 
 
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 ARRANGED AND PRINTED BY THE 
 
 NEWS PRINTING COMPANY 
 
 PASADENA. CAU. 
 
 COPYRIGHT DECEMBER 11. 1911 
 BY M. E. FITCH 
 
 CI.A305483 
 
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 T WAS my good fortune on reaching 
 Singapore, in the year 1902, for a 
 journey through India, where the great 
 Durbar was to be held, to find that 
 our ship from Singapore to Rangoon, 
 was the Tara, Captain Herrington. 
 
 Now the Tara was the ship, built by the British 
 India Company for the royal, titled, and distinguished, 
 visitors, who were to take part in the ceremonies, that 
 proclaimed King Edward VII., Emperor of India. 
 
 The ship was a floating palace, and the officers 
 were of the royal navy. 
 
 The ship was ordered to Rangoon, via Singapore 
 to await the royal command, and, lucky traveller that I 
 am, I was one of a small party to enjoy a week on this 
 beautiful ship. 
 
 After my journey through India, and a three days' 
 sail from Calcutta to Rangoon, imagine my delight to 
 find that I would be transhipped to the Tara. 
 
 I had come from a plague country, and was not 
 permitted to land in Burma, but I had thoroughly seen 
 Rangoon, had visited Mandalay, had sailed on the 
 Irrawaddy, "where the flying fishes play," so I was 
 quite ready to continue my journey. 
 
On my arrival at the ship, I was met by Captain 
 Herrington, and welcomed as an old friend. 
 
 Everything was in regal style, no clumsy gang- 
 plank, but a royal stairway was lowered. 
 
 Next morning after Captain Herrington had been 
 ashore, he came to me saying, "I have news for you, 
 which may be agreeable, and may not; I am ordered 
 to sail at once, not to stop at Penang, so the passen- 
 gers booked for that port will be obliged to take an- 
 other ship." 
 
 "The Vice-regal party, are not ready to leave 
 India, as they had planned, and there will be time for 
 me to make a hasty voyage, and return for their com- 
 mands; so with a full cargo, and some second class 
 passengers, I am ordered to Singapore, and you and 
 your companion will be my only first class passen- 
 gers." 
 
 Could one's wildest dreams, picture such good for- 
 tune, for the whole ship was mine, with all its royal 
 state. So during those peaceful days, as we quietly 
 sailed upon the calm waters, these sketches were scrib- 
 bled for my good friends. 
 
THE HOOGHLY 
 
 AS OUR good ship entered the Hooghly (one of 
 the many mouths of the Ganges) and slowly 
 wended her way, twisting and turning, for miles up 
 the treacherous stream to Calcutta, plans for my jour- 
 ney through India naturally had first place in my 
 thought. 
 
 A good servant and guide must be secured. While 
 I had my companion maid, who had served me well, 
 still a native servant was indispensable. 
 
 I had always heard so much of the faithful Indian 
 
servant, and last year at Ceylon in the hotel, as I saw 
 them standing by their master's door, all day, and 
 at night, removing their voluminous turban, rolling 
 it up for a pillow, spreading a strip of cotton for their 
 bed and lying down for the night to watch and guard 
 their Sahib or Mem-Sahib, I fairly longed for the 
 time when I, too, should have such a faithful guardian. 
 
 And now in the last days of 1 902, as we were 
 nearing Calcutta, how I reveled in the thought of the 
 ideal servant, with his respectful salaam, and his ever 
 watchful care. I pictured him with pure white turban 
 of the largest size, and long white coat; the trousers 
 I left to fate; only they must be short, leaving his 
 feet and legs bare, to show his respect for me, as 
 there is no greater disrespect in Oriental countries, 
 than to cover the feet, or uncover the head; so the 
 turban I must have, on my servant. 
 
 As the ship touched the Calcutta dock, she 
 seemed to swarm with Indians, of all sorts and condi- 
 tions, and the most unclean one of all, took me in 
 charge. 
 
 How well I remember the huge green woolen 
 "comforter" he wore around his neck, and the soiled 
 cap! No turban on him! 
 
 We had a report of "no rooms to be had in Cal- 
 cutta," so the captain advised leaving our luggage, 
 and if we had difficulty in securing rooms, returning 
 
to the ship for the night; so leaving my maid in charge 
 of the luggage, I started with friends for the Grand 
 hotel. 
 
 The soiled cap, and the green comforter, would 
 not be dismissed, he secured a Garry, mounted the 
 box beside the driver and when my friends stopped 
 for letters, he put in my lap a big package of chits, or 
 recommendations in which he was vouched for, as a 
 perfect servant, I wonder, I did not fall a victim to his 
 evil eye, and his persistency. 
 
 Finding plenty of rooms at the hotel, I sent my 
 new servant as he had constituted himself, for the lug- 
 gage, and when he arrived with it, he hustled the 
 coolies, and ordered the servants about in a way to 
 command my admiration, as he thought — ending with 
 the pertinent question, "Am I engaged." 
 
 To his seeming surprise I gave him the usual fee, 
 and dismissed him — I could not lower my ideal so 
 soon, and I must have a turban. 
 
 The hotel was excellent, but servants ! If I opened 
 my door, two or three men would spring from the 
 floor, and try to press their package of chits into my 
 hand! If I had only known the word "jow," which 
 means "get out," how well I could have used it. 
 
 In the dining room, a very tall, thin man in snug 
 fitting brown clothes, with a beautiful white turban, 
 was most assiduous in his attentions. He was so 
 
quick and noiseless in his movements, that I called him 
 "the monkey." He followed me to my room and 
 produced the now familiar package, I read them 
 and for two days endured him, then I paid and dis- 
 missed him. 
 
 Another boy came, with superior recommenda- 
 tions. As these chits are passed from one to the other, 
 I had him identified; he was a Hindu; he could not 
 eat in the hotel; I found his absences rather pro- 
 longed, but according to his letters, he was so honest, 
 and he was so clean, and with his white turban looked 
 so well, on the front seat of the carriage, and never 
 ran back for a commission, when I made a purchase, 
 that I engaged him. 
 
 Then, oh then the creature changed; he must 
 have warm clothes, for the colder climate we were go- 
 ing to; I found this was the custom. He must have 
 a dozen towels, for your Hindu spends most of his 
 time in the water; I compromised with half a dozen. 
 He would not wear ready made clothes, so the tailor 
 came and I ordered a suit for him. 
 
 We were to leave some of our sight-seeing at 
 Calcutta until our return, so our tickets were bought, 
 our car was secured, and we were to leave for Benares 
 at seven-thirty in the evening. 
 
 All through India we had a very large car to our- 
 selves; they are long, like our railway carriages with 
 
two beds, a dressing room with water, and a small 
 room for the native servant, opening into the car, which 
 also, had an outside entrance. 
 
 There was a folding table to cook upon, cold 
 water was free, but boiling water which was gotten in 
 our tea kettle, cost a penny. 
 
 The best trains start at night, we carried our 
 own bedding and a well filled hamper, and always 
 had a good breakfast cooked by my maid, before 
 leaving the car, as a dining car is unheard of in India. 
 
 About four o'clock in the afternoon on the day of 
 our departure, my boy appeared with a very soiled 
 turban, an independent air, and his bed, which all 
 servants must take with them. 
 
 I said, "You must put on a clean turban before 
 you start with me." (You see the turban was my 
 ideal, I must live up to it.) 
 
 He answered, "I haven't any other, you must buy 
 me one." 
 
 Of course I refused. 
 
 He then said, "I cannot go with you, unless you 
 give me ten rupees for my family, during my absence." 
 
 Imagine my feelmgs with my trunks all packed, 
 and my railway carriage secured. 
 
 In my tribulation, I flew down to the manager, 
 who told me it was customary to pay a small sum in 
 advance, but that I must keep his papers as security. 
 
The boy was sent for, and he refused to give me his 
 papers. 
 
 The manager with the assurance that he would 
 get me a new boy at once, told him to get out. 
 
 Their plan is, to find a new-comer (tenderfoot as 
 it were), get a suit of clothes, which they can pawn, a 
 railway ticket, an advance of ten rupees, put their 
 victim into the railway carriage, and then disappear. 
 
 I heard of several who suffered in this way. 
 
 My appeal to the manager saved me, for I don't 
 think my saintly Hindu intended to go with me from 
 the first. 
 
 Five o'clock came, no new servant and at seven, 
 at the very latest, we must leave the hotel to catch our 
 train. 
 
 My heart was a little heavy for I don't like to have 
 my plans disarranged. 
 
 Just then, in came two bright-eyed boys; one said, 
 "Here is the boy the manager sent." 
 
 I glanced at his chits, put them in my pocket as 
 security for they said everything good, about him. 
 
 I engaged him at once, paid him ten rupees for his 
 family, told him the tailor would be ready with his 
 clothes, which luckily had not been delivered, and 
 said, "he must be back in an hour ready to start." 
 
 He was off like a shot, I drew a long breath and 
 then came the thought, "Had he a turban on," for 
 
even at that exciting moment, my ideal servant arose 
 before me, and whether I had secured him or not, I 
 w^as unable to remember. 
 
 The tailor came with the clothes. We were in the 
 writing room, from which my room opened, also the 
 dining room and the staircase. 
 
 I think every employe of the establishment arrived 
 on the scene; some for their fee, others out of curiosity 
 to see if we should get off. I even suspected there 
 were bets, about the return of my boy in time. 
 
 The manager came and said he had sent this same 
 boy, with ladies before, and he could assure me of his 
 fidelity. 
 
 Half past six, no boy! quarter of seven, not here! 
 
 The monkey man had long been watching and 
 waiting; he wanted to get a Garry and have my lug- 
 gage put on; the tailor still waiting unpaid, was most 
 excited, when up the stairs with a bound, came my 
 bright-eyed, barefooted boy of about forty, with half 
 a dozen coolies at his heels. 
 
 Like magic, the luggage was on the Garry; the 
 clothes were snatched, and tried on ; the tailor was paid. 
 
 We ran down the stairs with the whole motley 
 crew behind us, the tailor and the monkey man helping 
 us into the Garry. All of Santa's relations had come 
 to see him off. Every minute was precious, but they 
 had brought a bottle of tea, a plate of food, and must 
 
shake hands with him, and say good-bye, and one, 
 more persistent than the rest, put his head in the 
 window, saying, "He is my cousin, take good care 
 of him!" I heard an exasperated exclamation and we 
 were off. 
 
 We had just time to get settled before the train 
 started, and when my boy came to get into the ser- 
 vant's part, opening into my carriage, I saw to my 
 dismay that he had on, not a white turban but a small 
 blue cap. 
 
 I was too exhausted to think much about my ideal 
 that night, but the next morning I solemnly told him, 
 he must wear a white turban. 
 
 Well Santa was a good boy, he at once produced 
 an immaculate turban; he twisted it in the most ar- 
 tistic folds, and he never appeared in my presence 
 without it. 
 
 If he wore his cap, which I think was the pride 
 of his heart, he put his turban on, over it. No mat- 
 ter how cold, his feet and his legs were bare to the 
 knee, his turban was always immaculate, and so, my 
 ideal servant was realized. He was a good servant, 
 and took me back to Calcutta, with all my belong- 
 ings, which is more than many can say, in the troublous 
 year of the Durbar at Delhi, of 1 902. 
 
AN ALL night ride by train from Calcutta brought 
 us to this most interesting city about nine in the 
 morning. We were driven to a pleasant hotel, one 
 story in height, with a broad veranda running the 
 whole front, surrounded by a beautiful rose garden, 
 and I was told I could gather as many roses as I 
 wished. 
 
 This veranda was filled with merchants, displaying 
 their wares, embroideries, cashmere shawls, wooden 
 toys, rugs, etc. One merchant, who never told the same 
 price for anythmg, confessed that he had an asking 
 price, a talking price, and a selling price; so a purchase 
 was a matter of hours. 
 
 We soon started to see the sights. We were 
 conducted through narrow, filthy streets on foot, leav- 
 ing the carriage as we entered the town, to the Golden 
 temple, and to the Monkey temple, both places of Hin- 
 du worship and where a daily sacrifice of a goat is 
 made. 
 
 We saw the sacred cattle, small grey beasts, slick 
 and clean, in one of the inner courts of the Golden 
 temple and peered at some of their ugly Gods through 
 small apertures, but I found the temples neither inviting 
 nor interesting, so we turned to the bazaars, where the 
 Benares brass is made. 
 
We went up narrow stairs so steep that we were 
 obliged to hold fast to a heavy rope to keep from fall- 
 ing backwards, but were well repaid by the beautiful 
 things to be seen. 
 
 In the evening we were invited by a hone5anoon 
 couple, to see a Nautch dance. 
 
 Again up steep narrow stairs we climbed in the 
 dark, to a small room where four chairs were placed 
 for the distinguished guests, our party, while all around 
 the sides of the room, the natives squatted on their heels 
 waiting for the show to begin; four musicians, with 
 small drum like a childs, cjinbals, a queer instrument 
 about five feet long shaped like a banjo, and one 
 other which I cannot now recall; finally two very home- 
 ly women, except for their bright eyes, appeared. 
 
 Their dresses were heavy and voluminous with 
 much cheap gold braid and veils; one was bare- 
 footed with beringed toes, the other had brown stock- 
 ings on. 
 
 They slowly walked about, first one then the other, 
 keeping step to the slow music, occasionally coming 
 forward, and shaking each one of us, by the hand. 
 
 The music grew a little less solemn, when they held 
 their skirts and whirled a little, their bodies swaying 
 to the music. After this stupendous effort they again 
 shook us by the hand. Then followed a little panto- 
 mine which my guide informed us was a flirtation; 
 
again we shook hands and the finale was a song in 
 English : 
 
 "When I was single, 
 
 My money did jingle. 
 
 And I wish I was single 
 Again, again, again." 
 
 This in voices more discordant than I can find 
 words to express. 
 
 These are the famous Nautch girls and the Nautch 
 dance, of which we so often read. I saw them in 
 Jeypore and the slow movement and solemn music 
 were the same. 
 
 In the dimly lighted room with the dusky figures 
 lining the wall, with their piercing black eyes shining 
 out, it was not a festive scene. 
 
 My boy Santiago by name, though we always 
 spoke of him as Santa, this being Christmas time, it 
 brought pleasant visions of chimneys and babies hang- 
 ing up their stockings just to mention Santa — ^well boy, 
 insisted that we get up at six o'clock and go to the 
 Ganges to see the bathers. 
 
 He had what he considered an unanswerable argu- 
 ment when I protested. "All the gentlemens are going 
 at six o'clock." 
 
 I compromised with seven-thirty, so in the chill of 
 the morning we drove to the Ganges and regardless 
 
of the chill, the sacred river was well filled with bathers 
 all along the shore; the number was quite sufficient 
 for me, but Santa thought it was no show at all, 
 and assured me that four o'clock was the best time. 
 
 We took a queer boat with chairs on top of a 
 cabin, and were rowed for some distance down the 
 river. 
 
 On the bank are the palaces of the rich men, 
 who we were told, feed the poor by the hundred 
 daily, temples where the different gods and goddesses 
 are worshipped, and the palaces of the Maharaja. 
 
 Between these buildings the river is approached by 
 flights of stone steps, which are called Ghats; these are 
 named as streets are with us. 
 
 The most interesting was the burning Ghat; here 
 were the funeral pyres, with the bodies in them, covered 
 with wood, ready to be lighted. 
 
 As we stopped opposite this Ghat, the priests, who 
 had just completed a funeral pyre, but without light- 
 ing it, ascended a platform at the left, overlooking the 
 pyre, on which a number of men were standing. 
 
 Then ensued loud words and many gesticulations. 
 
 I enquired from my boy who was intently watching 
 them, what it was all about. 
 
 He explained that the body had been brought to 
 the river in a twelve anna robe, about twenty-four 
 cents, but when the relatives came to see the burning, 
 
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they were recognized as rich men, who should have 
 sent the body in a rich robe, which would have be- 
 longed to the priests, so they refused to light the fire, 
 until the proper amount was paid them. 
 
 At last, the matter was settled and we saw the 
 torch applied. 
 
 Durmg this controversy, a body was brought by 
 four men on a light stretcher and placed with the feet 
 in the muddy water. 
 
 One man, the nearest relative, dipped handfuls of 
 water and poured down the throat of the prostrate 
 form ; this he did three times, and then left the place. 
 
 I was told, but do not vouch for the truth of the 
 story, that if a person took a longer time to die, than 
 was considered necessary or reasonable, they were 
 brought to the bank of the sacred river and instead 
 of water being poured into the mouth, a little mud 
 thrown in assisted them in their exit, but should they 
 recover and wander back to their home, as sometimes 
 happens, no one would receive them; they were out- 
 casts and dead to their families. 
 
 "According to the native faith of the Hindu, the 
 sacred city of Benares is sixty thousand miles nearer 
 heaven than any other spot on our sinful little sphere, 
 and in affectionate solicitude for the soul about to de- 
 part on its journey for the spirit world the believer 
 tenderly brings his dying relative to this auspicious 
 
starting point, but should signs of physical weakness 
 and disease fail and the sick recover he can never leave 
 the bank of the sacred river, but must abide there in 
 a little house of waiting built for him until the final 
 summons comes, even if years intervene." 
 
 Bodies are also thrown into the Ganges and the 
 captain of our ship at Calcutta said when this was 
 permitted, he would find a number of bodies washed 
 against the ship which must be pushed away before 
 starting on a voyage. 
 
 This was all gruesome and ghastly, and I gladly 
 told the rowers to move on to see the bathers. 
 
 The better class had platforms built in the water 
 with awnings, but open on all sides, for while the wom- 
 en of the higher class are rarely seen, there were many 
 bathing with great indifference to the lookers on. 
 
 They walk into the water with their clothes on, 
 which consists of a jacket and skirt, after a thorough 
 scrubbing of their person, the jacket is removed and 
 washed, so I saw many men and women naked to the 
 waist. 
 
 As they walked to the shore, where the water was 
 shallow, a dry skirt was put on, and then the clean 
 jacket; the wet skirt was slipped off, and wrung out 
 and here was the bath taken, and the family washing 
 done while you wait; I saw this same thing many 
 times, not only in India, but in Burma and, while it 
 
THE BATHERS 
 
 sounds a difficult thing to do, constant practice has 
 made them very deft, for a good Hindu must take a 
 daily bath. 
 
 After the bath, three stripes are drawn on the 
 forehead, a red stripe in the center nearly half an inch 
 broad, and two stripes of gray from ashes. They may 
 
be across or up and down, sometimes merely a red 
 dot, the size of an old fashioned wafer, is put between 
 the eyebrows, or a spot of ashes. 
 
 This marking of the forehead has a special relig- 
 ious significance, denoting their sect, and must never 
 be indulged in until after the bath; neither can the 
 temple be visited until after the bath; so from the 
 river to the temple in all cities in India the path is 
 sloppy, wet and disagreeable. 
 
 On a beautiful Sunday afternoon I started to 
 visit the palace of the Maharaja of Benares; we drove 
 to the Ganges where a boat was in waiting, brought 
 from the lower part of the river by the turbaned foot- 
 man, who ornamented the rear of the big, unclean 
 rattle trap of a Landau. 
 
 Our hotel boasted of two such vehicles and as 
 this was the best one, at least the horses were a little 
 less bony than the other pair, I thought we were quite 
 fortunate. 
 
 The distances are tremendous, the dust intolerable, 
 walking impossible, so I must pay the exhorbitant 
 price for the day, and then pass most of the day on 
 a boat, or in shops, or walking through the filthy 
 streets, where carriages cannot go. 
 
 The river was lovely, the air was soft and mild, 
 and the sun not hot, but beamed gently upon us 
 through a hazy mist, as we rowed up the river, with 
 
the palace of the Maharaja visible in the distance. 
 
 As we crossed the river, two, the strongest of our 
 boatmen, took long coils of stout rope on their arms, 
 stepped over the side of the boat into the shallow 
 water, and then pulled the boat upstream against a 
 heavy current. A sail was also raised, so the rowers, 
 who sat quite below us, had little to do. 
 
 As we neared the palace, a man came running 
 at full speed down the sandy shore, plunged into the 
 stream and seemed making for the boat. 
 
 I was very lazy, and very sleepy, but I roused 
 myself sufficiently to wonder what could be his errand, 
 and why such haste! Why, indeed! He was a mes- 
 senger sent for my visiting card, so I could be received 
 in state! 
 
 He ran back as fast as he had come, bearing the 
 pasteboard aloft like a very small banner. 
 
 The palace was not much to see; I have a re- 
 membrance of wading ankle deep through dust to get 
 there, and of rooms glittering with chandeliers with 
 innumerable glass pendants, just what you see in every 
 palace in the East. 
 
 I wrote my name where many celebrities had 
 written theirs, in a big book. 
 
 I then begged that I might be taken by a shorter 
 way to the boat, as we were on the very edge of the 
 river. 
 
We were taken down the private and royal stone 
 steps, and came upon a fine stone balcony, with the 
 royal barges floating below us, and above, a beautiful 
 white marble Buddha in a niche, with two attendant 
 priests in yellow robes. 
 
 I gave them a rupee, they threw garlands of yellow 
 marigolds about my neck and of my companion, and 
 said, as my boy translated, that "we should both have 
 handsome husbands before the year was over." 
 
 Why such a terrible fate was in store for me, just 
 for a rupee, I was unable to imagine. 
 
 We got into our boat, up a ladder to the top of 
 the little cabin, and in the beautiful afterglow on the 
 rainbow hued water, we floated back to our landing 
 place. 
 
 The beggars and the back-sheesh were a little in- 
 congruous, but the afterglow lingered and the drive 
 home was a pleasant finale to a dreamy, delightful 
 day. 
 
 I left Benares with regret, which would have been 
 all the keener had I realized that I was going forth 
 into a wilderness of crowded hotels and high prices, 
 and turning my back upon the most comfortable hotel 
 in India, except in Calcutta, that it was my good for- 
 tune to find. 
 

 
 
 
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 THE RESIDENCY 
 
 ffl'HE terrible Indian mutiny of 1857, in which so 
 ^ many noble British fell under the fire of the 
 mutineers, or by the ravages of cholera, is the chief 
 interest of Lucknow. 
 
 The Residency, a name applied to the ruined 
 buildings and to the extensive grounds as well, show 
 little signs of the terrible struggle and suffering of those 
 gloomy times. 
 
 One sees the roofless walls, broken and battered, 
 some graves simply marked, and an artificial mound. 
 
thirty feet high, on which is a handsome white marble 
 cross, twenty feet in height; on this is inscribed: 
 In Memory of 
 Major-Gen., Sir Henry Lawrence 
 
 K. C. B. 
 
 And the brave men who fell 
 
 In defense of the Residency 
 
 1857. 
 
 The vines clambered freely over the ruins, flowers 
 
 bloomed gaily in the garden, and the scene of the 
 
 siege, and the battles, is now a beautiful park. 
 
 We drove to all the places of interest in and 
 around Lucknow, and to the bazaars, where I found 
 the prices high, and the articles offered commonplace, 
 and, much to Santa's, my servant's, disappointment, 
 I could only be induced to buy a pair of gold em- 
 broidered shoes, with toes very much turned up; his 
 profits would not be large at this rate, he thought. 
 
 The next place that was on the program to stop 
 over was Cawnpore, but our landlord assured us 
 that the plague was very bad at Cawnpore, cholera 
 also, and beside there was nothing to see but the 
 well into which were thrown two hundred persons, 
 chiefly women and children, some alive, some dying 
 and others dead. 
 
 I had seen and heard quite enough of the mutiny 
 and its horrors, for Santa was particularly fond of 
 
cemeteries, as he called every monument or grave; 
 so I decided not to stop at Cawnpore. 
 
 The landlord and the time table were consulted, 
 that no mistake should be made. 
 
 We usually took a train, and just got off when 
 we reached our stopping place, for the tickets partic- 
 ularly stated "that changes might be made without 
 notification," which was more true than agreeable. 
 
 I found that we were to change cars at Cawnpore, 
 and wait an hour for the train to Agra. 
 
 Upon arrival we were ushered with much cere- 
 mony into the waiting room, and Santa disappeared. 
 When he returned it was to say that the train had 
 gone, and the next one would be here at two o'clock 
 in the morning, giving me to understand that the train 
 had left before we arrived. 
 
 Before deciding what to do, to go to a hotel as 
 many did, or take the train when it came, I thought 
 best to consult the station master. Santa was rather 
 reluctant about finding him, but when I persisted and 
 did succeed, and was told that although our train 
 was late, there had been plenty of time to have gotten 
 the one for Agra, well, Santa had a bad quarter of 
 an hour. 
 
 There was a dining room in the station of most 
 uninviting appearance, but fortunately I had my ham- 
 per filled with all the necessaries for a good supper. 
 
We then had the big waiting room to ourselves, 
 and very soon with our neat little outfit, had a hot 
 supper fit for a king or any other hungry mortal. 
 
 There was a fine bath tub where we might have 
 had a hot bath as well, but we were content with the 
 beds that were arranged for us. No bedding — that is 
 unheard of in India — but, having plenty of our own, 
 I was in a dreamless sleep at once, waking suddenly 
 in time for the train. 
 
 At this time the room was well filled with beds, 
 all occupied, showing that to sleep in a public waiting 
 room is not unusual in India. 
 
 And thus, despite all my plans, I did stop over 
 at Cawnp>ore. 
 
®l|^ ©at iialial 
 
Agra 
 
 "A city of about 175,000 population; 850 miles from Calcutta, 
 is famous for its art, curiosities, temples, shrines and picturesque 
 ruins. The walls of the o!d city are seven by three miles, inclos- 
 ing the ruins of many ancient mosques, baths, Hindu temples, 
 tombs, etc. Taj Mahal, a tomb built by the great Shah Jehan for 
 his beautiful Qyeen Mu Jehan (the light of the world), is a superbly 
 constructed edifice of polished white marble, as fresh and pure as 
 when first built, surmounted by a graceful dome decorated with rich 
 mosaics on a white ground, inlaid with jasper, agate, carnelian and 
 other precious stones. Two thousand men were employed 22 years 
 in the construcfiion of this mausoleum, and it cost $15,000,000." 
 
 TTT HE night had been very cold, but, as the train 
 ^^ neared Agra, the sun was shining warm and 
 brilliantly, lighting the dome and minarets of the Taj 
 Mahal with a glory which was their due. The pure 
 white marble shone and glistened in the morning sun, 
 and I felt that, for the long journey and the discom- 
 forts of travel in India, I was well repaid by this 
 fairylike vision, for it seemed too etherial to be real. 
 
 The hotel was quite large and gave promise of 
 some comfort, and a carriage was secured for the 
 time of our stay. I was soon on the way to a nearer 
 view of the Taj Mahal, or The Crown Lady's Tomb. 
 
 This mausoleum was commenced in 1630 A. D., 
 by the Emperor Shah Jehan, as a tomb for his favorite 
 
queen, Arjmand Banu, entitled Mumtaz Mahal, the 
 Chosen of the Palace or the Pride of the Palace. 
 
 Mumtaz-i-Mahal was married to Shah Jehan in 
 1615, had by him seven children and died at the 
 birth of the eighth child in 1629. 
 
 Her body was laid in the garden where the Taj 
 now stands until the mausoleum was built. 
 
 Mere words fail to convey the faintest idea of this 
 magnificent mausoleum, but more wonderful than the 
 tomb itself, is the fact that it was erected to the memory 
 of a woman, in a country where women are held so 
 lightly. 
 

Shah Jehan rests by the side of his queen, the 
 two monuments most exquisite in carving, and jewels 
 inlaid in the marble, but this is the queen's tomb, and 
 Shah Jehan is known as the builder. 
 
 The gate by which one enters the grounds is a 
 magnificent building of red sandstone, making a fine 
 contrast to the white marble of the tomb. 
 
 So many writers have described the Taj Mahal 
 in glowing language, that it is useless for me to say 
 aught, for it must be seen, not once, but many times, 
 to half appreciate its beauty. 
 
 The days were beautiful and sunny, but every 
 night the moon was obscured by clouds. 
 
 The last night of my stay in Agra, I made a fare- 
 well visit to the Taj. 
 
 The moon was kind enough to emerge from the 
 clouds and shed a soft radiance over the beautiful 
 scene. 
 
 The lovely garden is divided by shallow marble 
 courses filled with water, crossing at right angles in the 
 center, from which center rose an immense basin with 
 a fountain. Here were seats to rest, for the walk 
 was long from the gateway. 
 
 The dome and minarets of the Taj were reflected 
 in the water. 
 
 There were many people walking quietly through 
 
the grounds, but the stillness was so profound, one felt 
 as if alone in a solemn place. 
 
 We walked upon the marble terrace surrounding 
 the central building, from which the four minarets rise. 
 We leaned upon the parapet and gazed down upon 
 the sacred waters of the river Jumna, upon whose 
 brink the mausoleum stands. 
 
 We were loath to leave the place, but finally, with 
 determined step, started for the gateway, often turn- 
 ing and looking back in the pale moonlight to this 
 beautiful "poem in marble." 
 

IFrum tl|p 
 
®I|? (Eromn 
 
211}^ Qlrnmn IGaing's (Lttmb 
 
 Oh, lady fair, with thy queenly air; 
 Thy king besought thee his throne to share. 
 He was master, and ruler, o'er all the land. 
 And he ruled his people with iron hand. 
 
 Fair queen, for thy tomb 
 Men labored and died. 
 
 Gold poured forth as water. 
 And no one beside 
 
 Can claim to their memory. 
 Can claim to their pride. 
 
 Such beauty, such grandeur. 
 
 Such splendor, I ween, 
 
 As gleams, for the world. 
 
 To thy glory, oh ! Queen. 
 
 Oh, lady fair, thou art sleeping there, 
 Neath the lace-like marble with jewels rare. 
 Oh pride of the palace, Mumtaz-i-Mahal. 
 Dost thy spirit still linger 
 
 'Neath the beautiful dome 
 That thy fond lover builded. 
 
 For thy last earthly home. 
 
Thy lover is resting in peace at thy side; 
 
 The storm and the battle for him are no more. 
 The light of the world, 
 His queen and his bride, 
 Was his last thought on earth 
 When his sorrows were o'er. 
 
 
 
 "' .-^w*'* 
 
 
 ON THE TERRACE 
 
Sll^ l^mxi MnBqnt 
 
THE FORT AT AGRA 
 
 E\\t Slort at Agra 
 
 ^iT OR the beautiful palace and the Pearl Mosque 
 ^ within the heavy and forbidding walls of the 
 Fort, I was wholly unprepared. 
 
 We arrived at the Fort and drove through the 
 gateway, on and on, gradually ascending, then over 
 a drawbridge, then between high walls, the roadway 
 so narrow that two carriages could barely pass, twist- 
 ing and turning until we came upon a high plateau, and 
 stopped at the "Moti Musjid," the Pearl Mosque, 
 which Fergusson describes as "one of the purest and 
 most elegant buildings to be found anywhere." 
 
It was built by Shah Jehan in A. D. 1655. All 
 the beauties of the mosque were fully shown and ex- 
 plained by the custodian and Santa. 
 
 We then descended the long flight of steps and 
 were soon in front of the palace. In the center, com- 
 manding a view of the whole court, was a small gal- 
 lery with a marble seat. 
 
 This was the Diwan-i-Am, or hall of public audi- 
 ence, where the reigning emperor heard the complaints 
 of the people. 
 
 Back of this and opening on a terrace was the 
 Diwan-i-Khas, or hall of private audience. This is 
 a miracle of beauty. The carving is exquisite and 
 flowers are inlaid in the white marble with cornelian 
 and other colored stones. 
 
 From this throne on the terrace, the Emperor 
 looked over the broad river to the beautiful gardens 
 and buildings on the opposite shore. 
 
 A staircase leads to the "Saman Burj" or Jasmin 
 Tower where the chief Sultana lived and to a beauti- 
 ful pavilion with a fountain and a retiring room, which 
 were the Emperor's private apartments. 
 
 Adjoining was the golden pavilion with tiny bed- 
 rooms for the ladies, with pockets in the wall, fourteen 
 inches deep, into which they put their jewels. The 
 openings at the top are so small that only a woman's 
 arm could draw the jewels out. 
 

There was a beautiful grape garden where a 
 waterfall was arranged over lighted lamps of different 
 colors. From this was filled a large tank where the 
 ladies could bathe, with little seats like perches for 
 them to rest upon. 
 
 A short distance, opening on this garden were 
 the mirror rooms, two dark rooms lined with small 
 mirrors, here were tanks for bathing, the water flow- 
 ing over an artificial cascade with lighted lamps behind 
 it. I have since read that these baths were for the 
 princesses. 
 
 In Shah Jehan's time these were fountains of per- 
 fumed water. 
 
 All this was shown and explained by a most polite 
 and elegant young Englishman, who belonged to the 
 Fort, which is now under British rule. He now 
 ordered torches, and we were conducted into the 
 lower regions, explaining as we went, that here was 
 where the doomed wives were conducted, before 
 making their final exit. 
 
 A small room with high grated apertures was 
 where these poor creatures were placed, who had in 
 some way displeased their lord and master. Only a 
 short distance was another room with a strong beam, 
 and a heavy rope. Here they were hung, and when 
 cut down, dropped into a secret passage three hundred 
 feet deep, which connected with the river. 
 
I was glad to return to the light of day, thinking 
 as I went, of the inconsistencies of the poor, benighted 
 Hindu. 
 
 The small grey cattle are sacred. 
 
 A person would be killed who hurt a monkey; a 
 serpent is even more sacred than a monkey; there is 
 hardly a bird or a beast that is not sacred, and must 
 not be injured, but over a woman her husband had 
 the power to torture and to kill, with none to help 
 her in her need! 
 
 Adjoining this palace we were shown the old 
 palace, built by Akbar, grandfather of Shah Jehan, 
 which is now being restored. 
 
 At the opposite side of the palace and adjoining 
 the Diwan-i-Am, is a beautiful mosque, called the 
 Gem Mosque, built by Shah Jehan for the ladies of 
 the court; at the side is a gallery where the ladies sat to 
 examine the goods which were brought by merchants, 
 and displayed in the courts below. 
 
 There are small rooms here, where Shah Jehan 
 was imprisoned for seven years by his son and suc- 
 cessor, Aurangzib. 
 
 His captivity was shared by his daughter, Jehan- 
 ara, who was tenderly devoted to her father; from 
 here he was carried, when he was dying, to the room 
 nearest the river — an octagonal pavilion and very 
 beautiful. Here he died gazing upon the Taj, the 
 tomb of his favorite wife. 
 
(Hhr iBtiTiU* SoomB 
 
AKBARS TOMB, M. E. F. AND SANTA 
 
 Akbar'0 ®nmb 
 
 3^E STARTED for Sikandarah quite early in 
 ^^^ the morning, for the distance was five miles 
 from Agra, and the sun grew very hot at mid-day. 
 The gateway to the garden surrounding Akbar's 
 tomb is truly magnificent. It is of red sandstone, very 
 massive and inlaid with white marble. 
 
A broad paved walk leads to the mausoleum. It 
 is a pyramidal building of four stories, three of which 
 are of red sandstone, the fourth being of white marble. 
 
 A gentle incline leads down to the vaulted cham- 
 ber in which the great Akbar rests. It is quite dark 
 and the once illumined walls are now soiled and 
 discolored. 
 
 Narrow staircases lead above. The highest plat- 
 form open to the sky is surrounded by a cloister of 
 white marble beautifully carved. In the center is 
 the splendid white marble cenotaph, just over the place 
 where his dust rests in the gloomy chamber below. 
 On one side of this cenotaph is inscribed, "God is 
 greatest," on the other, "May His glory shine," 
 
 A few feet distant is a white marble pillar, which 
 was once covered with gold and contained the great 
 diamond Koh-i-Nur. It is supposed to have been 
 taken from here by Nadir Shah. 
 
 On the way home we stopped at the rug manu- 
 factory. At the big squares of warp sat rows of 
 small boys from six to ten years of age. 
 
 These very deftly put in the colors with the 
 simplest of instruments as they were called out by a 
 larger boy, who stood at the end of the bench, and 
 managed for two rugs. 
 
 It takes six months to learn, and the pay is very 
 small, but the boys looked happy and contented, and 
 
we were told the work was eagerly sought for. A 
 good sized rug can be made in three months. 
 
 They are beautiful, and not very expensive, and 
 are shipped to all the large cities. I saw many cases 
 marked for New York. 
 
 I think at least ten boys were at work on one rug 
 at the same time. They are paid by the inch. Their 
 little hands and fingers just flew over the colored yarns 
 as they put them in, and fastened them. 
 
 We visited many shops, but the small models of 
 the Taj and the marble inlaid with colored stones 
 had no attraction for me. It was beautiful in the Taj, 
 but in small boxes and other pieces, I would have 
 none of it. 
 
Kf^pnre 
 
 E REACHED Jeypore in the evening, but I felt 
 no anxiety, as I had wired for rooms and 
 all the world was supposed to be at Delhi, two mis- 
 takes, for my wire had not been received, and there 
 was not a vacant room in the hotel. 
 
 After much deliberation, the manager said there 
 was one room, which was reserved for a young man; 
 he would give me this room, and put the young man 
 in a tent. It was not a good room, he said (he was 
 right there), but it was the only one he had. 
 
 Not that I saw the manager, but this was the word 
 that Santa brought. 
 
 Arriving at a hotel in India is unique. 
 
 You drive up; if with two horses there is always 
 a footman. 
 
 Your own servant and this footman assist you out, 
 and place your small luggage beside you. 
 
 All you can do is to sit still, wait, and be stared 
 at by the occupants of the veranda. 
 
 This is what happened here. 
 
 Finally we were ushered by Santa into as poor a 
 place for our room as I have ever seen. 
 
 It was on the ground floor, in fact all the rooms 
 I occupied in India, except in Calcutta, were on the 
 ground floor. This had one small window without 
 
glass; when we closed the wooden shutters we were 
 in darkness; there were two beds without bedding, 
 and a dressing room, which happily one always finds. 
 
 There is no trouble about plumbing in these 
 countries; one corner of this dressing room had a 
 cement partition about a foot high, and here you throw 
 the water, regardless of consequences, even in the 
 second story, as we were in Calcutta, and in Burma; 
 nothing seems to happen. 
 
 We dressed by a small lamp, and a candle in a 
 tumbler, and Santa came and escorted us to dinner. 
 
 Here we found a brilliant company. 
 
 Lady Mary and Lady Jane were here, with ser- 
 vants galore, both white and black. 
 
 Santa had secured very good seats at table d'hote 
 and waited upon us, to the best there was, which was 
 nothing to boast of. 
 
 As yet I had not seen a person who seemed to 
 belong to the hotel. 
 
 When we went to our room, Santa made our 
 beds, and then his bed, outside the door, and was 
 our guardian for the night. 
 
 The morning was beautiful. 
 
 Santa brought our "chota-hazri," or early tea and 
 toast, in good season. 
 
 We were soon on our way to see the sights in 
 the highest and biggest landau it has ever been my 
 
cUli? Alhprt Ifall 
 
fate to see; Santa, who made the arrangement for the 
 carriages, seemed to think the bigger the better. 
 
 I remember I had something under my feet, and a 
 pillow at my back to prop me in. 
 
 We first went to the public garden outside the 
 city wall, one of the finest gardens in India. 
 
 These gardens cost the Maharaja thirty thousand 
 rupees a year to keep up. 
 
 In the center of the garden is the Albert Hall, a 
 sumptuous modern building for which the Prince of 
 Wales laid the cornerstone in 1876. It contains a 
 large Durbar Hall and a beautiful museum. 
 
 The collections of modem works of art, and of in- 
 dustry, also of antiques from every part of India, are 
 very complete, and most interesting, while the exam- 
 ples of pottery, and enameling made in Jeypore, were 
 most surprising and beautiful. 
 
 We then drove into the town, which is remarkable 
 for the width and regularity of its streets. The main 
 streets are over one hundred feet wide, and are lined 
 with fine buildings three to four stories in height, quite 
 uniform in their style; they seemed to be covered with 
 plaster and were colored a bright "crushed straw- 
 berry," as nearly as I can describe it. 
 
 In the bright sunlight, the uniform color of street 
 after street was charming. These streets were crowd- 
 ed and the bazaars most picturesque. 
 
The printed cottons, with the Maharaja's stamp, 
 were beautiful. Many stones are found in the state, 
 the cutting of which is a large branch of industry, 
 while the beautiful shapes, and color of the pottery, 
 made one want all they saw. 
 
 THE MAHARAJAS PALACE 
 
 We went to the Maharaja's palace and through 
 the grounds. We viewed the stables in which I think 
 there were five hundred beautiful horses. 
 
 We walked and walked, through dust ankle deep, 
 to see the fighting elephants, which were not much 
 of a sight, but we could, on our way, look up to the 
 small barred apertures, and see the Zenana, or women's 
 apartments, and were told that the Maharaja had 
 556 wives. 
 
 Jeypore is the pleasant, healthy capital of one of 
 the most prosperous independent states of Rajputana. 
 
It is the residence of the Maharaja, whose estate covers 
 nearly 15,000 square miles, with a population of 
 2,500,000 souls. 
 
 On Sunday afternoon we drove to the city, through 
 the huge gateway, where it seemed as if the whole pop- 
 ulation was in the streets. 
 
 All the shops were open and seemed a little gayer 
 than on other days. 
 
 The crowd was so great, we must drive slowly, 
 which gave the merchants time to rush upon us with 
 their wares; at one time the carriage would be filled 
 with embroidered shoes of all sizes and descriptions, 
 this because I had stopped at a booth and looked at 
 shoes several days before. I could not drive in that 
 street without every man or boy on the street actually 
 stopping the carriage to make a sale. 
 
 Then the prmted cotton street; they flew at us 
 wavmg long streamers of cotton in lovely colorings, 
 some still damp from the dye. 
 
 We stopped to see some Nautch girls dance, and 
 such a crowd collected, that the police dispersed them. 
 
 Santa for a pice, like our pennies, bought a big 
 paper of their lowest coin, which is small shells; ten 
 of them is a handsome gift to a beggar, and beggars 
 there were in plenty. 
 
 About five o'clock the crowd was almost impassi- 
 ble, and we began to meet the wedding processions. 
 
The first was the son of an official, he looked a 
 boy of fourteen, and was reclining, with a very bored 
 look, in a palanquin. Before him walked dancing 
 girls, playing on cymbals, with little bells on their 
 fingers. 
 
 The whole procession would stop, and these girls 
 would sing, and dance a litde, and then all would 
 move on. We kept even wilh them, as long as we 
 could, until they turned into another street. 
 
 One wedding was most pathetic, the women who 
 walked were richly dressed, music headed the proces- 
 sion, and everything gave evidence of wealth. 
 
 I stopped the carriage, to allow them to pass, 
 when a beautiful palanquin wilh purple hangings came 
 quite near me. 
 
 In it was a little girl, not more than six years of 
 age, with the silver bridal veil on her head. There 
 was a pause in the procession, when she lifted the 
 corner of her veil, and peeped out at a stranger with 
 a sweet baby smile. 
 
 I counted thirteen wedding processions that after- 
 noon, of all classes, and conditions. Sometimes the 
 bride walked, but always with the silver veil over her 
 head. 
 
 The day was warm and lovely, and the people 
 seemed almost gay — the only time and place, in India, 
 where I saw a smile, with few exceptions. 
 
As a rule, the people have an angry, sullen, blood- 
 thirsty look, a look of hate that is not pleasant to see. 
 I asked an Englishman if he was not afraid of an- 
 other mutiny, and he said their safety lay in the fact 
 that while the people of India hated the British, they 
 hated each other more. 
 
 The Hindu and the Mohammedan religion, and 
 the strict class distinctions may account for the evil look 
 upon their black faces, and the dagger-like glitter in 
 their shining black eyes. 
 
 Now Santa was a Christian, and the ugly gleam 
 had departed from his eyes, but was not replaced by 
 a smile. 
 
 He was probably a deacon, from his happy way 
 of taking up a collection, for when we started from 
 Calcutta, he had not money enough to fee a cooley; 
 our journey was not half completed, when he could 
 change a bill for me of any amount, and fee coolies to 
 a lordly extent. 
 
 I rubbed out his slate every night, and began 
 again in the morning, and I noticed that fees grew 
 larger, and coolies more expensive, as we neared our 
 journey's end. 
 
 Poor Santa! I would not buy, no matter how 
 many or how fascinating the shops to which he took 
 
 me. 
 
 There was always such a long consultation with 
 
him before the price was named, that I had plenty of 
 time to make up my mind how much an article was 
 worth, and if I really wanted it, before Santa was 
 satisfied (of course this parley went on in Hindustani), 
 and when I made my offer, it was rarely enough to 
 cover Santa's commission with profit. 
 
(SlasB falarp at 
 Ambrr 
 
ARRIVAL AT AMBER 
 
 Amber 
 
 ARE you going to Amber? Have you a permit? 
 Have you an elephant? 
 Everybody was asking everybody else that sunny 
 morning on the veranda of the hotel at Jeypore. 
 
Yes, I had all these, and we soon started with 
 quite a calvacade for the old capital, now the ruined 
 city of Amber. 
 
 We drove to the foot of the mountain side, where 
 the elephants were waiting. 
 
 A huge fellow with housings, which might once 
 have been handsome, but were now rather shabby, 
 knelt down in true circus style, and we climbed by 
 aid of a ladder to his back, but the howdah was 
 not so comfortable as one I rode in when a child, or 
 so handsome. 
 
 The elephant rocked and rolled up the steep path, 
 made more picturesque by the procession of elephants 
 slowly winding up. We dismounted in the court yard, 
 and were shown through the palace. 
 
 To the right of the Diwan-i-Am is a small temple, 
 where a goat offered each morning to Kali preserves 
 the tradition of a daily human sacrifice on the same 
 spot, in prehistoric times. 
 
 On a higher terrace are the Maharaja's own apart- 
 ments, entered by a splendid gateway covered with 
 mosaics and sculpture. 
 
 The Hall of Victory is adorned with panels of 
 alabaster, "the roof glittering with the mirrored and 
 spangled work for which Jeypore is renowned." Above 
 is the Jas Mandis "which literally glows with bright 
 and tender colors and exquisite inlaid work, and looks 
 

/ 
 
 }• 
 
 inrnti 
 
 
 
through arches of carved alabaster and clusters of 
 slender columns upon the sleeping lake and the silent 
 mountains." 
 
 It was all very beautiful. 
 
THE JUMMA MUSJID 
 
 TJJ HAT can I say of Delhi, that has not been 
 -^■^ better said, and printed in every newspaper 
 in the land in this year of 1903? 
 
 The Durbar was over two days before I arrived, 
 the Viceroy and Vice reine and many of the guests had 
 departed. 
 
 Accounts of the enormous crowds and the im- 
 possibility of securing any accommodations, prevented 
 me from going to Delhi during the Durbar, and now 
 Delhi was dishevelled; deep dust covered the road- 
 
ways, and many deep d-d's descended on the Delhi 
 Durbar, which was deemed responsible for all the ills 
 that had befallen the visitors, that had gathered from all 
 parts of the world. 
 
 The nights were frightfully cold, and the dainty 
 dames, from Duchess to ladies in waiting, shivered in 
 the icy atmosphere of an unwarmed tent. 
 
 There was no difficulty in securing accommoda- 
 tions to go to Delhi, but to get away was quite an- 
 other matter! 
 
 The city was still crowded, and I was told to 
 secure a return train, as soon as I reached Delhi, which 
 I tried to do. The trains — well, they were all wild 
 trains, and all seemed to have lost their right of way. 
 
 If I asked about trains, I was referred to the station 
 master, and what he said at one time, he contradicted 
 the next time I saw him. I fairly haunted the station, 
 fearing I might never be able to leave Delhi, until the 
 station master lost himself, and left word that he had 
 gone out of town; but I knew my man, and caught 
 him, and pinned him down to a special carriage, and 
 a special train, which having a written order for, I 
 felt somewhat relieved as to the length of my enforced 
 stay. 
 
 The castle and the fort was a poor affair after 
 Agra, though the remains of the decorations for the 
 grand ball of the Durbar were still "en evidence." 
 
The Jumma Musjid, or mosque, is said to be 
 unrivalled for size. 
 
 I was told an interesting story in connection with 
 this mosque. 
 
 The day of the procession, during the Durbar, 
 every part of the mosque was filled with visitors to 
 view the gorgeous spectacle, and as the ceremonies 
 would be long, brought tiffin and especially ham 
 sandwiches with them, some of which was scattered 
 about the floor of the mosque. 
 
 Now pork to a Mohammedan being most unclean^ 
 is like a red rag to a bull; their beautiful mosque had 
 been defiled; the outrage and the insult must be 
 avenged. 
 
 The next evening was arranged for the grand dis- 
 play of fireworks; this was the opportunity. 
 
 About six hundred men armed themselves with 
 clubs and sticks; they were to mingle in the crowd, at 
 night, and beat these "dogs of christians." 
 
 Most fortunately, the plot was discovered, the 
 men were disarmed, and a regiment of cavalry was 
 ordered on the scene to prevent any outbreak, and 
 awe the angry mob. 
 
 Rumors of an impending uprising, at the time of 
 the Durbar, had reached me at Calcutta, which made 
 Delhi seem less desirable, than even want of accommo- 
 dation. 
 
But the iron hand of the Viceroy was everywhere 
 felt; the minutest detail was brought to him; so not a 
 blemish marred the success of this splendid Durbar. 
 
 India has good cause to honor Lord Curzon. 
 
 He spent enormous sums of money to restore the 
 beautiful architectural gems, which she possesses, and 
 to insure them from further decay and destruction, and 
 where restoration was being done, I was always told, 
 "Lord Curzon is having this done." 
 
 I often heard it said, "he is a born ruler," "he is 
 the best Viceroy India has ever had." 
 
 From every one, whom I met, words failed them, 
 to express their pride in, and their admiration for Lady 
 Curzon. "Our American Queen," as they called her. 
 
 In speaking of the jewels worn at the Durbar ball, 
 of the Duchess of Marlborough's, and of others, they 
 always ended, "but Lady Curzon's were as handsome 
 as any one's." 
 
 Then her smile, how often it was spoken of; in the 
 procession some one said it reached every one, and 
 made them glad and happy all day. Her charming 
 manner, her beautiful head and shoulders, all were 
 commented upon with loving praise. 
 
 I hope she knows how much she is beloved, how 
 her gentle and gracious manner has won all hearts! 
 
 The tents still covered the plains; the little railway, 
 that connected the different camps, still slowly puffed 
 
around the narrow gauge track ; the enormous elephants 
 with their stately tread and beautiful housings were 
 constantly seen, for many of the Indian princes were 
 still in Delhi, but the gay crowd had departed and 
 Delhi seemed deserted. 
 
 Prices at the hotels and for carriages were still 
 high, for the hotels had named such fabulous prices, 
 to their would-be patrons, that the great crowd that 
 was expected stayed away, or brought tents and food 
 with them. So both provision sellers, and hotel keep- 
 ers lost heavily, and tried to even the loss, with the 
 later comers, but the attraction was so small, and the 
 discomfort so great, that the all-absorbing thought was, 
 how to get away. 
 
 Five hours waiting in the station and at last, after 
 the Maharaja, and the elephants, had departed in 
 their special train, and several other trains had pulled 
 out, the special train for which I had an order, was 
 made up, and four hours after the time named, we were 
 en route to Calcutta. 
 
 Santa urged that I should stop over at Allahabad, 
 there were so many interesting things to see, and to 
 buy. Not I. 
 
 With every train crowded I might not again be able 
 to secure such a comfortable railway carriage; so 
 we slowly rolled and rolled for two nights, and nearly 
 two days, on, on to Calcutta. 
 
GOVERNMENT HOUSE 
 
 Olalrutta 
 
 'JJT WAS good to be back in Calcutta to a large 
 ^ fine room at the comfortable Grand hotel; to find 
 a housekeeper sitting up for us, even though we arrived 
 at the unearthly hour of three in the morning; to have 
 the nice cup of hot tea and an egg, with delicious toast, 
 served even at that hour, for the drive was long from 
 the station and the air chilly, and then to go to bed 
 with the happy feeling that some of the sights of Cal- 
 cutta had been done, and that one had a little time to 
 enjoy one's self. 
 
 Everything seemed so fine in the morning! 
 
 Calcutta is a city of magnificent buildings, and 
 they seemed to have grown during my absence; the 
 streets were clean and free from dust. 
 
The horses looked like Arabian coursers, after the 
 sorry jaded beasts I had grown accustomed to, and 
 the coachmen and footmen, with their grand turbans 
 of every conceivable color, that had seemed rather 
 shabby before, why, they looked fairly regal, as they 
 passed up and down in front of the hotel. 
 
 I went out, and squandered a rupee, an hour, on 
 the finest turnout, at the stand, and forgot that I was 
 paying too much. 
 
 I drove to Government House, where great prep- 
 arations were being made for the arrival of Lord and 
 Lady Curzon, and for the grand ball they were to 
 give later. 
 
 The ball room is magnificent; the floor is of pol- 
 ished teak wood, the ceilings are beautifully paneled, 
 the chandeliers are brilliant with their sparkling, shim- 
 mering glass pendants (they are said to have been 
 taken from a French ship during the last war between 
 France and England). 
 
 Government House stands in a small park of six 
 acres, with well kept lawn and beautiful trees and 
 flowers. 
 
 The Indian museum is an immense building, con- 
 taining a fine collection of fossils and minerals, a geo- 
 logical gallery, with rich specimens and a fine library, 
 and those who desire to study the products, and manu- 
 factures of the country, will find the finest examples 
 
QUEEN VICTORIA 
 
 of their art, and workmanship, in the economical divi- 
 
 sion. 
 
 In 1891, Calcutta was a city of 840,000 in- 
 habitants, including the suburbs; in the heart of this 
 great city is the Maiden or Esplenade, which is a mag- 
 
nificent open space, a mile and a half long, by about 
 a quarter of a mile in width. 
 
 It is not like a park, for it is treeless, there are no 
 drives or anything to beautify this great level piece of 
 land, except that around it are many statues. Queen 
 Victoria in bronze, seated on a massive base, occupying 
 the most conspicuous place. 
 
 The temples, at least the one I visited, three miles 
 away near the bank of the river Ganges, was disap- 
 pointing. The approach was disgustingly unclean and 
 wet from the dripping clothes of the bathers, who 
 crowded and joslled me in the very narrow alleys, by 
 which we struggled to see the temple. 
 
 We were accosted every moment by beggars in 
 priest's garb, who held out their skinny hands; I sup- 
 pose they were clean after the constant bathing, but 
 they did not look so. 
 
 When we finally reached the temple, we could see 
 nothing, it was so shut in by other buildings, and so 
 dark. We were never allowed to enter these temples, 
 but the guide would point to a barred window and ask 
 if w^e could see the god inside, but I never could! 
 
 And for this, four of us were beguiled by my 
 servant to waste a whole afternoon. 
 
 I visited the palace of the dethroned King of 
 Oudh, but was not much impressed with its grandeur, 
 though the many fine portraits were interesting. 
 
THE NEW POST OFFICE 
 
 I had always read and heard so much of the Black 
 Hole of Calcutta, that I expected to look down into 
 a deep black hole, but on this famous spot, now stands 
 the new Post Office. 
 
 I was satiated with sight-seeing, I just wanted to 
 enjoy the delicious air and the beautiful sunshine. 
 
 So for days before embarking for Hongkong, via 
 Rangoon and Singapore, I drove and dawdbd, shop- 
 ping a little, visiting the flower market, which was most 
 interesting, watching the slreet scenes, and finally de- 
 parted from Calcutta with sadness and regret. 
 
(C'est-Finis) 
 
m 9 1312 
 
One 
 
 copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
 ■'AN 30 1912 
 
029 948 069