Chapter III: Part 3

The portion known as the Mirror Palace is unique, as it consists of two dark rooms furnished with fountains and an artificial cascade arranged to fall over lighted lamps. The walls and ceilings are decorated with innumerable small mirrors which were restored in 1875. The palace measures seventy by forty feet, and is built at the east end of a garden two hundred and fifty feet square, planted with flowers and shrubs. Underneath the structure are subterranean apartments for use during the summer heat, and from here passages lead to still cooler rooms in another portion of the fort.

In the southeast corner of this Anguri Bagh, or garden, are three finely decorated rooms which were once the private apartments of Shah Jahan. The Jahangir Mahal, or palace, is noticeable on account of the bright red tiles used in the upper portion. It also has a fine domed hall which leads into a large central court.

But the crowning single feature in this fort (which is over a mile in extent) is the Moti Musjid, or Pearl Mosque. Mr. Ferguson considers it to be "one of the purest and most elegant buildings of its class to be found in the world." It ranks next to the Taj Mahal among Shah Jahan's creations. The entrance gateway is of red sandstone and is approached by a lofty double staircase. The exterior is faced with slabs of red sandstone, but the interior is built of marble, white, blue, and gray veined. The courtyard of the mosque is deservedly celebrated. In the centre is a marble tank for ablutions, and a marble cloister runs around three of its sides. A flight of steps leads to the roof of the mosque, from which a fine view is obtained.[3]

A pleasant excursion across the river led us to the tasteful tomb of Itimid-ud-Daulah. The entrance gate is fine, and the approach through spacious, well-kept grounds gives one a wide perspective. The façade is of marble with considerable inlaid work. Itimid-ud-Daulah was a Persian High Treasurer, and the grandfather of the Lady of the Taj. The tomb was built by Shah Jahangir, as was that of King Akbar at Sikandra, five miles distant from Agra and a delightful excursion to make. It has an imposing gateway and is situated in the midst of a veritable park. It is of red sandstone, inlaid with white marble, and is a pyramidal building, four stories high, the first three being of red sandstone and the fourth of marble. The base measures three hundred and twenty feet, and the fourth story one hundred and fifty-seven feet (narrow stairways leading upward), which indicates a gradual decrease and tapering in size. A massive cloister runs around the lower story, and the fourth story is occupied by the marble cenotaph of Akbar, directly over the crypt which contains his tomb. The cenotaph is engraved with ninety-nine names of the deity. This story is surrounded by a white marble cloister, and on the outer side of each arch is an oval-shaped recess, filled with delicate lacework carving of varied patterns in marble. The effect is unlike anything elsewhere seen. There are several other historic tombs in the vicinity, and many points of interest all the way to Akbar's old capital, Fatehpur-Sikri. This is twenty-two miles distant, a day's excursion, and easily reached in automobiles; although it took some faith to trust one's self to the rather indifferent chauffeurs.

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FATEHPUR-SIKRI: This royal but long-destroyed city is sacred to the memory of the Emperor Akbar, who built a gorgeous structure and selected the site through the advice of the renowned Saint Selim Chisti. He eventually abandoned it on account of its unhealthy location, and transferred the capital to Agra, where, as we have seen, he built a fort and the red palace. There is an unusually imposing gateway on one side of Fatehpur-Sikri, leading up to the mosque, but we made our entrance from the adjacent side; hence our first view was like that in the illustration. A large, five-story building to the left served as a recreation place for the ladies of the court, while back and to the left of this was seen the beautiful dome of the mosque, said to be almost a counterpart of the one at Mecca. So many and varied are the buildings in this fort that it is inexpedient to do more than allude briefly to them.

The three palaces of the Sultanas are notable for their beauty, variety, and wealth of ornament, the Sultanas being Miriam, the Portuguese Christian; Rakinah, Akbar's cousin; and the Turkish Sultana. The Emperor also has a suite of several rooms. The palace of Birbal, Akbar's prime minister, is, architecturally, the most perfect of any in the enclosure and was built for his daughter. The rooms allotted to the Zenana are spacious. Near the recreation building is the famous pachisi or chess board, similar to the one at Agra, where Akbar and his vizier, sitting opposite, marshalled the slave girls to and fro.

The plan of the mosque is unusual in its construction, and so is the massive gateway. Passing through the latter, an exquisite monument presents itself in the tomb of Selim Chisti, the venerable hermit saint, who lived a retired existence in a cave and yet who was the controlling force in Akbar's life. The place is simple, and displays such delicacy of skill in its composition as to excite admiration. It is surrounded by a beautiful white marble lattice-work screen, ornamented with brass, and the canopy over the tomb of the saint is inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The photograph is very effective, but, like many others, it has to be omitted (I have five hundred scenes of the tour). The public audience room is encompassed by cloisters. There is a treasury, a mint, a record office, and a building with three large rooms known as the Minchauli Anch, which is said to be the place where the Emperor played hide-and-seek with the ladies of the court; this is probably an erroneous statement.

The most unusual building is the Diwan-i-Khas, the council chamber. From the outside it seems to be two stories high, yet there is really but one story with a large central pillar which is surrounded by an immense circular capital. From this radiates four stone causeways to the corners of the room; these are enclosed by an open trellis with stone balustrades. The shaft of the pillar is finely carved, and all is in perfect condition, due to careful restoration. It is said that the Emperor sat in the centre of the pillar when he held a council, while the four advisers sat in the corners. Stone staircases lead to the roof, where a glimpse of the whole enclosure is afforded. A novel view is obtained down a stone-paved roadway, leading to a large court, at the north end of which is the deer minaret, or circular tower, seventy feet high, decorated with protruding elephants' tusks in stone. From the lanterns at the top, the Emperor is said to have shot antelopes drawn under the column by beaters employed for that special purpose.

Reading between the lines, one learns that Akbar was a very peculiar character, domineering and despotic, yet generous to the immediate members of his household and to his favorite courtiers,--he was very cruel, however, when they displeased him; very broad in his religious views; and although a devoted Mohammedan, he was tolerant of all religions, and there are accounts of religious discussions taking place, in which every shade of belief was represented. He decreed that his daughters should all marry Hindu princes.

Our guide told us that formerly there were underground passages and apartments, but he did not state, as did another guide to a party of tourists at Agra, that these apartments were for the disciplining and torturing of the members of the Zenana and even of his wives. Taking into consideration the attention he gave to the comfort and pleasure of the ladies of the court, as seen in the palaces and the large recreation building extant, this statement appears inconsistent, and so it is necessary to give him the benefit of the doubt. The "auto" ride back to Agra was accomplished without any broken limbs, and another red-letter day was ended.

Before leaving Agra one should either visit the Taj Mahal for a final look, or, from the Jasmine Tower of the palace, gaze through the intervening two miles of space to catch its shadowy outline as seen by Shah Jahan during those seven solitary years of vigil. I chose the latter method for convenience' sake, after visiting the bazars, and in consequence was rewarded with a never-to-be-forgotten view.

Delhi and Agra are indissolubly connected by their rulers and by historical events; in leaving them one feels as if never again would so much of unique interest be presented in the line of architectural skill and poetic sentiment.

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CAWNPORE, _December 24th_: We took a night train from Agra to Cawnpore, arriving there early on the morning of December 24th and stopping over a few hours to break the journey. Cawnpore is full of mutiny memories, and we visited some of the historic points, going first to the Ghat (steps) where cruel Nana Sahib burned, or murdered, a boatload of Englishmen; also to other scenes of horror. Then we went to the memorial well, and to the memorial church with its peaceful interior, which was being decorated with greens in true English fashion, for the service of the morrow, when "Peace and good will to men" would ring out, and for the time being mutiny memories would be forgotten. We drove to the park, where, as an accessory to a certain artistic building, there is to be seen an exquisite angel of carved marble, a memorial erected by the Government. Next, we visited some bazars of no special interest.

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LUCKNOW, _December 24th_: After luncheon, we took the train for Lucknow. On the way, Murray's "Lucknow" was re-read, and another mutiny chapter added. Lucknow is the capital of the province of Oudh. In 1813 the English conferred the title of king on the ruler, but, for reasons of distrust, withdrew it in 1856, and at the same time discharged eighty thousand high-caste soldiers,--an action which produced instant dissatisfaction and was one of the direct causes for the mutiny. We arrived at Wutzler's Royal Hotel in the late afternoon, and felt gladdened by the comfort and good cheer that awaited us,--a hopeful sign inasmuch as the morrow was Christmas Day. A drive to Wingfield Park and a visit to an exquisite tomb mosque ended the sight-seeing day.

Christmas without the usual morning service seemed peculiar, but the law of the majority in our party prevailed, and we drove instead to the Fort and Residency, the centre of interest since 1857. The awe and solemnity inspired by that visit, with the Christmas bells ever and anon breaking the silence, can never be forgotten. The Residency is situated in the centre of a large park which was the scene of a siege lasting from July 1 to November 17, 1857, three thousand men, women, and children, besides the military, being there for safety. The number of refugees was reduced to one thousand by September; the large rooms on the ground floor of the Government building, with two stories above and extensive subterranean rooms, made their stay possible, but involved great suffering and horrible death as the siege went on. The large banquet hall of the Residency near by was converted into a hospital. Both buildings are now in ruins. But the roofless Residency with a tangle of vines (and a decrepit stairway that leads upward) furnishes a fine view of the whole scene, which in its very quietness bespeaks bravery, endurance, and heroic suffering.

The buildings of Lucknow are not important, with the exception of the Jumma Musjid, the great Imambara with its fine gateway, court, and arcades. The Imambara Mosque has two minarets, and the great Imambara Hall, one hundred and sixty-three by fifty-three feet and forty-nine feet high, is one of the largest vaulted galleries in the world. The palaces of the late king of Oudh, the clock tower and other mosques and tombs, were visited, for, as usual, the persistent guide insisted on our seeing all the "sights" (exaggerating the descriptions, it always seemed, in proportion to their lack of importance), and it was "Memsahib this" and "Memsahib that." Christmas Day, with a June temperature, soon came to a close; the dinner was somewhat English in its many appointments, with its roast beef and plum pudding,--other home touches being added by our ever-thoughtful Director. There was good cheer, but we silently thought of home and the friends far away.

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BENARES, _December 26th_: Benares is the sacred city of India, and the river Ganges with the ghats is the point where thousands upon thousands of worshippers congregate, coming from every point where Hinduism prevails. We had anticipated revolting scenes, and were not disappointed, as the superstition of the devotees, the grasping conduct of the priests, and the disgusting practices in the name of so-termed religion all contributed to that end. We arrived during the afternoon of December 26th, going to the Hôtel de Paris. A drive was instantly proposed, and we were taken to the Maharaja's palace, with grounds laid out conventionally, the trees and shrubs representing peacocks and animals of different kinds. The palace was spacious but tawdrily furnished; it is noteworthy as being the home to which the Maharaja and his family repair whenever they feel the approach of death; there is a superstition among the Hindus that death must occur on the north bank of the sacred river Ganges, in order to become a monkey after death (monkeys are considered sacred); for if the demise occurs on the opposite side of the Ganges, one would surely become a donkey.

We next turned toward the celebrated Monkey Temple, a pretentious but inartistic structure of red sandstone, presided over by the monster wife of Siva, the Goddess Kali, who is seated on an interior shrine and almost terrifies the beholder by her demoniacal smile, her neck being wreathed with skulls. The Goddess of Blood demands a daily sacrifice, usually a goat and sometimes even a buffalo. At least twenty terrible-looking priests were in attendance upon her when we arrived and were ready to slay the inoffensive goat if money was forthcoming. We, however, declined to witness such a spectacle. Monkeys, disgustingly old and fat, were everywhere, and filled large trees surrounding the temple, two hundred at least being visible. Beggars, mendicants, and priests were abundantly in evidence.

In an attempt to throw some small coins to some children, I was nearly crushed, the crowd closing around me and separating me from my party, until a tall Brahman priest with a huge stick checked the mob and I escaped, to be admonished by the Director of the party, who declared that I must never repeat the experiment, however much my sympathies might be drawn upon by the scenes that impressed me.

The following morning we proceeded at 7 A.M. to the scene of all others in Benares, the bathing ghats. These are steps leading down from the plateau to the river on the banks of the Ganges and extending a distance of nearly three miles. Seated in a native small boat, we sailed leisurely up and down for hours, watching the unusual spectacle. The Brahman priests were everywhere (there being thirty thousand in Benares who live on the offerings of the pilgrims), some seated under umbrella-like canopies, some under tents, others bathing, and others performing certain sacred offices for the devotees who had come hither in state, on elephants or camels, by train or on foot, all intent on securing an increase of religious zeal. The crowds bathing in the sacred river are a continuous spectacle. There are piers built out into the stream for convenience, filled with pilgrims of every hue and variety of dress and undress, some simply wearing the loin cloth, which startled us at first, but now seemed the legitimate outcome of a lean purse and a hot climate.

In addition, there is a continuous refrain of voices in solemn supplication to one or more of the many thousands of Hindu gods, for it has been stated that there are two hundred thousand divinities in India. At one point there is a burning ghat, and one morning we witnessed the preparation for two cremations, one of a poor man and the other of the wife of a Maharaja. The two ceremonies differed little, except that the wood for the funeral pile of one cost a mere pittance, while the sandalwood for the latter cost six hundred rupees. The corpse is carried on a small litter, or bier, made of bamboo sticks (a man is robed in white and a woman in red), and deposited in the Ganges, feet foremost; care is taken that the whole body be immersed in order that purification may be complete. The relatives arrange the pile of wood, about eight logs being required. Then the body is transferred to the pyre, and the torch is applied by one of the family, the others sitting solemnly around in a circle. When consumed, the ashes are scattered in the river Ganges. It is a gruesome spectacle, however much it may be in the interest of sanitary science; but less so to me, who had witnessed the distribution of the bodies at the Towers of Silence in Bombay.

It will be seen that the principal commodity in Benares is holiness; but there is one creditable industry, namely, the manufacture of brass. Several shops were visited, but we liked the modern styles less than the old Benares brass with which we were familiar.

One thought was uppermost while in Benares; I had pondered over it before in our visit to India. It was that with the masses Hinduism to-day means superstition and idolatry, in spite of the fact that the earlier teaching was of a pure character. That the cultivated Hindus accept the practices and the priesthood is a mystery as subtle as the law of caste or the iron law of custom. It is a depressing thought, and causes a profound feeling of thankfulness that Providence placed us in a fairer land.

The missionary effort of England, America, and other countries has for years been directed toward changing the condition of the masses, but the law of caste is such that, to use a set phrase, if a man become a Christian, he is ostracized, even by the members of his own family, unless they too follow his example. He is also ostracized as regards any business he may follow, and the sacrifice he is forced to undergo seems almost too great for human endurance. Still, according to missionary reports, this sacrifice is frequently made, which is equivalent to true heroism. Naturally, the progress of proselyting is slower in India than in any other country of the Orient, but it is the consensus of opinion that a greater extension of hospitals in charge of so-termed missionaries and a greater extension of schools for the young are the leaven that will work satisfactory results in the future. Another reassuring sign is the establishment of the Central Hindu College at Benares by Mrs. A.B. Besant, the Theosophist. This is intended to elevate the Hindu youth, combining religious and moral education with mental and athletic development. We saw only the exterior of the building.

Four miles from Benares, at the site of the old Benares, called Sarnath, is a most interesting ancient monument known as the Tope of Sarnath. It is the best preserved of any in Bengal. It was erected in Deer Park to mark the spot sanctified by the presence of Buddha. It was explored in 1835 and found to be a stupa; but containing no relics, it was evidently intended to indicate the spot where Buddha first assumed his mission as a teacher. The tope consists of a stone basement ninety-three feet in diameter and solidly built of stone. Above the stone is brickwork rising to a height of one hundred and twenty feet from the plain. The lower story has niches evidently intended for a figure of Buddha, and below this is a band of sculptured ornaments of great beauty; it is thought from the evidences of ornamentation that in date it corresponds to the best period of Delhi. There is an interesting temple in the vicinity, and there formerly was a large Buddhist monastery. One also finds acres of mounds and debris indicating a large Buddhist foundation in the days when Buddha reigned supreme.

We left Benares for Darjeeling the evening of December 27th, and the prospect of a glimpse of mountain scenery in the famed Himalaya foothills, eight thousand feet above the sea, was exhilarating after the depressing scenes behind us.

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SILIGURI, _December 28th_: We arrived at Siliguri early the following morning, December 28th, and were at once transferred to the Darjeeling and Himalayan Railway (two-foot gauge with open cars), a triumph of engineering skill on account of the sudden and wonderful curves which continue from the beginning to the end and cause the famous Horseshoe Curve of the Pennsylvania Railway to sink into insignificance. The ride was exciting, as every bend revealed something new and startling. Leaving the plain of Bengal behind us, which is a feature of interest, we commenced the ascent; first through a jungle of cane and grass, both very high, where tigers, leopards, bears, deer, and the like have their home; and next through a forest with few familiar trees save the giant oak. Higher up the graceful bamboo is seen, and still higher fruit trees are plentiful; then small tea plantations appear, and a more peaceful landscape. Another bold curve and the glorious snow-capped Kanchanjanga range is in full view,--a perfect panorama, the atmosphere being clear and the sky almost cloudless. It was one of the supreme moments of life. We were now nearing Darjeeling, having made a gradual descent during the last half-hour.

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DARJEELING, _December 28th_: The Woodlands Hotel, picturesquely situated on the side of a lesser mountain, became our abiding-place for all too short a time. Darjeeling is beautifully located upon a ridge, seven thousand feet above water level. The mountain side is picturesque with its sprinkling of villas and bungalows, tall mountains towering up as a background. The average temperature is eighty degrees in summer and thirty in winter; hence it is a favorite resort. There is a sanitarium here, called "The Eden." The mountain views prove a great attraction; the Kanchanjanga range is seen beyond the intervening mountains, with a vast chasm in the foreground.

The Mall is the principal promenade, and winds around Observatory Hill, from which fine glimpses of the country are to be obtained. In the vicinity is St. Andrew's Church, with interesting tablets, and near by the summer residence of the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal.

We were admonished to hurry our luncheon in order not to lose the opportunity of seeing the celebrated bazar of which we had heard so much, even in Bombay. I do not refer to the regular street bazar, but to a bazar at which crowds of peasants from different provinces congregate once a week for the sale of silver and turquoise jewelry, which is mostly exhibited on their persons, supplemented by a small bundle which is carried; but the transactions are very primitive and unlike those at any other bazar. Then there are the quaint things they wear,--artistic chatelaines with articles generally suspended and thrown over the shoulder, instead of worn around the waist, immense earrings, finger-rings, bracelets, and anklets; also large round silver pins for the hair, suspended between two long ornaments resembling an elongated corkscrew--all linked together with a narrow black ribbon tied in a bow. The wearing of this latter head ornament was very grotesque, and I bought one taken from the hair of a peasant, besides purchasing some other articles which now serve as a reminder of the quaint scene. The dress of the men, women, and children was peculiar, and varied according to their province, such as Bhutias, Tibetans, Nepalese, Pelaris, Ghorkas, and others.

Their shrewd faces were illuminated with smiles as they realized the success of a bargain which was doubtless far in excess of the value of the article purchased; or failing of a bargain their persistent attempts to secure one were amusing. As we walked around through the motley crowd, powerless to express ourselves except in the universal language of pantomime, with mountains all around us and the Kanchanjanga still in view, we felt as though we were a part of a play, it seemed so unreal. Later we visited the street bazars, all of them furnished with articles claimed to be antique. In the evening the proprietor of the hotel gave us an interesting description of scenes in Tibet, illustrated with lantern views.

The cold of late December now became intense, and it required some courage to be called at three o'clock in the morning for an expedition to Tiger Hill to see the sun rise. A half-hour after, nevertheless, saw our departure, and you would have smiled at the spectacle I presented, seated in a chair with six bearers (two for a relay), rugs and cushions piled around me, the crowning feature being a red blanket which, at the last moment, one of the bearers draped around my shoulders. It was moonlight when we left the valley. The view of each mountain and gorge was marvellous, so unlike daylight, as the moon ever throws elusive shadows about all things it touches. Before we reached our destination, the first streak of dawn was faintly outlined against the horizon, as if heralding the approach of some great spectacle, which soon came in shades of gold and pink; then bursting forth like a great ball of fire which illuminated the whole scene, even the distant Kanchanjanga range being suffused with a pinkish glow. We held our breath and were thankful, for the guide had told us that a perfect sunrise was a rare occurrence. Mount Everest, 29,002 feet high, eighty miles distant, and the highest peak in the world, as usual was but dimly seen. After the excitement of the morning, the hot coffee and rolls which were provided for us proved most acceptable. We lingered on for a half-hour, amused that even above the clouds human nature is the same, as every bearer produced rings or other trinkets for our inspection and possible purchase. The descent was made in the blinding sunlight, and indeed it was so warm that we laid aside our blankets, and we noted the different aspects which all Nature wore.

A nine-o'clock breakfast followed, and we were ready for other experiences. The descent to Siliguri was not unlike the ascent, with the view reversed. A night train conveyed us to Sara Ghat, where we arrived early in the morning and were taken across the river Ganges to Dumonkdeah, where we took a train for Calcutta, one hundred and sixteen miles distant.

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CALCUTTA, _December 31st_: There is, in a certain sense, a link between Benares and Calcutta; the latter is situated on the Hooghly River, which is an outlet of the river Ganges, but no resemblance exists between India's modern winter capital and the city of superstition. We arrived in Calcutta on December 31st, and repaired to the Strand Hotel. An afternoon drive to Eden Park proved delightful, and on every side we saw attractive surroundings.

January 1st dawned brightly, and found us at 7 A.M. driving to the fine esplanade, called "The Maidan," and extending two miles. We were on our way to witness the great annual military review by the Viceroy, now Lord Minto. Presentation Day is the term here applied to New Year's Day. It was a gala occasion indeed, and the equipages of the rich, and the smaller vehicles of all descriptions, encircled the barrier that intervened between the spectators and those who were to furnish the display. There were also hundreds on foot, some of them in the brilliant native dress of various colors, with their many-hued turbans. This was specially noticeable in the livery of many of the native carriages, where gold trimmings were profuse, and the same scheme was carried out in the dress of the two coachmen and two footmen, the latter being called _syces_. The militia presented a splendid appearance, and the infantry marched with the greatest precision, but the cavalry, as usual, carried off the honors as regards spectacular display, particularly the native cavalry with their picturesque dress. Lord Minto and his aides were elegantly decked in their accoutrements and elicited much cheering.

We returned for a nine-thirty breakfast, and left afterwards for a sight-seeing expedition, having been warned not to expect much in this line at Calcutta. St. Paul's Cathedral--English--was interesting on account of the many memorials and statues, one of Bishop Heber having much merit. Fort William and the grounds of the Government House, the Dalhousie Club, the Black Hole, and other points were also visited.

The Black Hole is so often mentioned in connection with Calcutta that a few words of explanation seem necessary. It was at the time of the siege of Calcutta in 1756 a small room in the barracks, twenty-two by fourteen feet in size, and sixteen feet in height. One hundred human beings were crowded into it on the night of June 20th, and there were only twenty-three survivors in the morning. A memorial obelisk was erected by one of these survivors, and this was restored by order of Lord Curzon.

The Imperial Museum is a very large building and has extensive geological and archæological departments. It also possesses a fine library.

We omitted the burning ghat, remembering the one at Benares, but a Hindu temple revealed another repulsive goddess, Kali, and the sacrifice of the goat had just occurred. The river front has a ghat for bathing.

A drive to the distant Botanical Gardens proved of much interest, and the largest banyan tree in the world was there displayed, having four hundred and sixty-four aerial branches and covering over an acre in extent; there were also long avenues of palms.

Lacking the fine harbor of Bombay, Calcutta is still a city of great commercial importance and of many natural attractions and fine public buildings. It is, however, a place of decided contrasts, imposing streets of residences being not far distant from as wretched a native quarter as may be seen in any other Indian city. To the casual tourist Calcutta seems a large English city (eight hundred thousand inhabitants), especially so in the life on the Maidan, the centre of attraction and fashion. Eden Park is also greatly frequented, and the race-course is the finest in India; but, notwithstanding, Calcutta has not the charm of Bombay. The Strand Hotel gave us an elaborate menu for our New Year's dinner, which was supplemented by flowers and bonbons, and we all voted the occasion, even if in a foreign land, a success. And so I link Lucknow and Calcutta together in the holiday column of my memory.

I have before alluded to the sad, dejected faces of the natives of North India; the Bengali seemed a trifle more melancholy, as is their reputation. We did not regret our departure, although it meant the loss of our faithful Indian guide, Dalle, and our travelling servant, Jusef, both with their long India bordered shawls artistically thrown over one shoulder, and their high white turbans rolled round and round the head, the finishing touch being a tall conical ornament that stood up in the centre. This is significant of their territorial province, styles of turbans varying with the locality. The early hour of 6 A.M. found us departing on the British and India line for a steamer trip of three days, Rangoon being our destination.

The trip was restful, but afforded little variety, and we hailed our arrival at Rangoon with delight early on the morning of January 6th. By a late decision we concluded to go on at once to Mandalay and leave Rangoon to be visited on our return. Taking a train at noon, we were favored by journeying in _de luxe_ cars, sacred to the use of high officials, and so complete in equipment as to include bathroom, shower-bath, and other conveniences. The afternoon ride was through a fertile country, rice and bananas being the principal products. The rice crop had been garnered, and piles of bags were ready at every station for shipment to Rangoon (the amount shipped is two hundred thousand tons annually). Later we visited a field where rice was being harvested. It is not unlike wheat in the sheaf, but smaller. The country process after cutting is first to pound the rice, and then winnow it so as to remove the hull; this is done by throwing it in the air, by means of a round flat plate with a handle. Machinery is used in the cities.

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BURMA: We were now far from the centre of things, in a remote corner of Southeastern Asia, hidden in the midst of mountains, which were for ages the safeguard against Indian invaders and the aggression of China. Proselyting Buddhists, however, found their way from India and brought civilization with them.

There is a great diversity of races in Burma, various foreign tribes having come there and remained, making a mixed population. There are now about sixty thousand Palaings wearing the Chin dress. The Kachins, a warlike people, formerly made raids on the Burmans who lived on the border of China, the Chins dwelling among the hills. The Karens are numerically the strongest and live in the delta of the Irrawaddy. They had been an oppressed people, but achieved their liberty under British rule, and it is estimated that one hundred thousand abjured Buddhism and became Christians. The Chins are the oldest, having come from China two thousand years ago.

Southern Burma was under British rule before the middle of the nineteenth century, but it is only since January, 1886, that England has controlled Northern Burma. King Thebaw's downfall was caused by his numerous cruel acts to foreigners, which compelled the British to take steps to check him. His headquarters were at Mandalay, and his deserted palace is the centre of attraction to-day. The most prominent feature is the fort, in and about which are grouped the palace of the King, the houses of Government officials and residents of the military quarter.

The palace was erected by Mindon Min, King Thebaw's father. It covers an immense area and is encompassed by a high wall of red brick, in which are twelve gates, each one surrounded by a conical cupola, with layers of upturned eaves after the peculiar fashion of the country; the same thing is characteristic of China.

The fort is entirely surrounded by a moat, one hundred feet wide and twelve feet deep. Five bridges also lead from five of the gateways. The moat supplies drinking water for the city and is covered with the purple lotus blossom. Its width and extent make it a characteristic feature of Mandalay. Roads run parallel with the walls and lead to the entrance of the palace gardens, once very beautiful.

The palace is a square of twenty or more buildings, built of teak, painted red, and covered originally with gold leaf. The roofs have layers of upturned eaves, and the buildings are richly decorated with colored ornamentation, while the worn gilding and faded reds are blended in the peculiar shading which time alone can give. There are many audience rooms, these usually furnished with elaborately decorated thrones, as is also the audience room in the beautiful adjacent palace of the Queen; her throne and the King's great throne in the principal audience room under the lofty cupola (called pyathat, and termed by the people the "Centre of the Universe") are especially imposing and rich in decoration. On either side of this audience chamber are large audience rooms; these were used for some time after the British occupation as a church for the soldiers, and the Queen's palace was turned into a resting place for the Upper Burma Club; now both the church and the club have appropriate edifices of their own. Between two of the principal rooms is a screen, utilized as a wall and panelled in glass, mosaic, and mirrors, which is very effective and reminds one of the glass room in the palace at Amber.

From the high hill at Mandalay, one may gain an excellent general view of the many pagodas and monasteries in which the city abounds; for this is verily the land of the pagoda. The most beautiful of all, called the Incomparable, was destroyed by fire. One of great interest was built by Mindon Min, and called the Kuthodau, or, more generally, the 450 Pagodas, but there are said to be seven hundred and twenty-nine cupolas surrounding the great central pagoda, each containing an alabaster slab upon which are engraved some texts of Buddha taken from the Pali Bible, the King thinking thus to perpetuate them,--the whole surrounded by a wall, in which are built two richly decorated gates.

Situated very near the so-termed 450 Pagodas is a group of attractive pagodas in carved wood and plaster of different designs. In the centre is an unfinished marble pagoda, called Kyauk Taw Gyi, which contains a huge attractive figure of Buddha, twenty-five feet high.

On the same morning we visited the glass monastery which once on a time had been very imposing. Here we saw the Bishop and a number of novice priests receiving instruction, taking, I imagine, a kind of postgraduate course. All were most affable and seemed happy, as does every one in Burma. At this monastery two of our party were given copies of a portion of the Burmese Bible.

Monasteries are also very prominent in Burma, and they are usually boys' schools, both for young and adult people.

In the afternoon we visited the great Arakan Pagoda, a shrine which pilgrims of the Buddhist faith frequent from all over the world. It is built in the form of a square tower, rising in a series of terraces, growing smaller and ending in a finial at the summit. There are also battlements with finials capping the top. The whole is gilded and is very magnificent in appearance, even to the gilded figure of Buddha, which occupies the principal throne. The day we were there, the throne was surrounded by worshippers, and the long passages leading from the pagoda to it were densely thronged. There are four smaller passages, each being filled with stalls where is displayed almost every conceivable article, even to fruit and flowers. Near one of the passages are two large tanks filled with grayish water where are kept the sacred turtles. The turtles were fed while we were present and seemed very tame. In the adjacent enclosure we saw many large bells of graduated size, for which Burma is famous. In an enclosure young men were playing the game of football, called "Chinlon," in that country, which means "round basket," the ball being about six inches in diameter. The players stand in a circle a few feet apart. The ball is thrown by one, and the player nearest to whom it falls kicks it in the air, and attempts to repeat this feat several times in order to keep the ball up, but failing to do so, the next player gains possession and throws it, and so on.

The visit to the Queen's Golden Monastery was peculiarly interesting. It is a fine specimen of native architecture, made of elaborately carved teakwood, finely gilded, but showing the marks of age. In the large central room, from which leads a smaller room separated only by columns, the so-called golden image of Buddha (also bejewelled) rests on a raised dais, and in front is a long table containing a great variety of votive offerings to the deity from a widely scattered circle of believers. The columns surrounding these rooms were profusely decorated with glass ornamentation, and the effect was startling. The Bishop in his robe of yellow silk--the color of the Buddhist priesthood--was gracious, and the young priests very jolly. We received several presents of long narrow books written on palm-leaf, the text being a translation in modern Burmese from the old Pali Bible. It is unnecessary to add that we left compensation, the sale of said books being forbidden; hence such is the way of evading the law!

This monastery contained, like the Silver Monastery, a school for children. On our departure, an interesting little episode occurred. A young priest draped his long yellow robe around one of the gentlemen, in veritable Roman toga style, the right arm and shoulder being exposed. Then one of the party took a photograph, promising to send a copy to the monastery.

The support of the Buddhist monasteries depends on charity, and a procession of priests from each monastery goes about with mendicant bowls or baskets, each morning soliciting food and fruit, everything being placed in one receptacle. Rice, however, is the principal contribution.

We also visited the Aindaw-Yah Pagoda, the oldest in Mandalay. This is entirely gilt, from base to spire, and presents an imposing appearance. It is surrounded by a large square or platform on which are placed various other shrines containing small images of Buddha.

The cause of there being so many pagodas in Burma is that thereby the builder gains renown and paves the way for greater happiness in a future state. For the above reason the pagoda is seldom repaired. The builder desires to be approached as "the builder of a pagoda," and invariably addresses his wife as "O wife of a pagoda builder." Architecturally the pagoda, in general, may be described as having a spire, massive throughout, rising from a circular, square, or octagonal base, in a succession of tiers or circles, of which the upper is always narrower than the one beneath it.

The principal industry of Mandalay is the weaving of silk, for which it is very celebrated, and a visit to the bazar was most interesting. Unlike the bazars previously described, this was a large, high building, filled with aisles and furnished with long tables, at the back of which sat the saleswomen; all the business of the bazar is carried on by women. There was a great variety of silk weaving of every conceivable shape and style, the sarong being prominent. This is a long colored garment which the women of Burma wear pinned tightly around them below the waist, unlike the fuller skirt we had seen in India, the dress being completed by a short, loose jacket which shows a white under-vest and a long, wide sash. The market was also very interesting, in a small building next or adjoining the silk bazar.

It may be well to speak here of the happy, contented, pleasure-loving Burmese women. Indeed, their condition could have been envied a few years ago, even in a portion of our own United States, as they can hold property in their own right and are entitled to their earnings. This causes them to be very industrious as well as executive. It is possible that the sunny aspect of Nature may partly be responsible for their joyous appearance, as it certainly causes the men to be very indolent and quite willing that their wives should carry on their business, provided they are left undisturbed to enjoy life in their own way.

The women are very fond of dress, and, unlike the women of India, wear only real jewelry; travellers see a profusion of solitaire diamond rings, every one of which is said to be genuine.

There is no caste in Burma and no division of class; in the olden time any one might become a prince or a prime minister if he had the ability to rise. There is little expression of art or literature, the life being very simple. The people are indeed children of Nature, and the only expression of taste is to be found in their pagodas and monasteries. Their silver work and wood carving are fine. The houses in the country are usually built of bamboo, raised from the ground on poles, four to six feet, as protection against floods, reptiles, and other mishaps. The floor usually consists of split bamboo, the thatched roof of elephant grass. The sides of the house are of bamboo, opening to the street on verandas. Some have second stories. Around these homes birds and animals and naked children are everywhere to be seen.

Among the incidents of our stay at Mandalay I remember a native dance, called "Pwe," given one evening in front of the hotel. This was a little on the order of a vaudeville, consisting of a mixture of talk, song, and dance. The performers were arranged on a high platform. The women were dressed in the extreme of Burmese fashion, having long pink silk sarongs tightly drawn around them, jackets and long sashes, and with flowers in the hair. They appeared in the dancing and the singing, while the two men furnished the dialogue. The music was anything but melodious, and the talking we could not understand; but from the applause of the large number of spectators gathered around, we assumed, however, that it was funny. The movement of the dance was very slow and measured, as had been all the dancing we had witnessed in the Orient. The effect was rather spectacular, seen in a dim light, with trees for a background. Whenever a dance of this kind occurs, it soon gets noised about, and large gatherings of people arrive, and they group themselves around, sitting always on the ground and observing a profound silence except when they applaud.

Near our hotel was an English Wesleyan mission, directed by the Rev. Mr. Bestol. A friend and I visited it, and found it very interesting and cheerful,--the home of the missionaries, and the assistant teachers who supervised the boys' and girls' school, and the dormitories. They seemed to be doing a very good work. On the occasion of our first call, they had all gone on a picnic, quite after our usual Sunday-school fashion. We also heard of other missions of merit.

At 5 P.M. we left our hotel for the landing of the Irrawaddy Flotilla Company to pass the night on the steamer _Siam_. We were now on a model river vessel for three days. The scenery was varied and picturesque. At points from the water's edge there were terraced slopes of vegetation, trees of many kinds and hues, the dark green foliage alternating with the light green of the graceful bamboo, while creepers and flowers peeped out here and there, also clumps of toddy palms rearing their lofty heads, while the ever-prevalent pagoda glistened white or golden through the branches. As the steamer carried freight, occasional stops were made, and this gave variety to the scene.

We arrived at Pakoku about 4 P.M. and anchored for the night. The shore was lined with piles of bags, boxes, and other usual accessories. Natives were seen in all directions with a new array of articles, some bearing baskets suspended from bamboo poles across the shoulders, while bullock carts and other primitive vehicles, together with the variety of style and color of the attire worn by the natives, made a scene truly picturesque. We also stopped at Mirout. Here were mud volcanoes, which some of the party visited, being carried there in bullock carts, and found them rather interesting, the volcanoes emitting mud instead of lava.

We arrived at a place near old Pagan at four in the morning, and never can I forget the spectacle presented from my stateroom window. There was total darkness, save where long lines of natives with lanterns, coming from the woods in every direction, were seen carrying boxes, bales, and baskets of freight to the shore. Once at the landing, the rush and commotion and waving of lanterns were truly Burmese. The next point in our progress was old Pagan, where we saw many pagodas, but we were told that there were as many as a thousand in the days of her prosperity.

On the river we constantly passed shipping of various kinds, sometimes huge rafts of teakwood propelled by natives, mostly devoid of attire; the peculiar Burman paddy boats of old Egyptian style are used for transporting unhulled rice. A more peaceful trip cannot be imagined, and it has been compared to a passage up the Nile.

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PROME: We arrived at Prome the evening of January 12th, but owing to some hours' delay we were disappointed in not having the expected drive or visiting the celebrated pagoda. We took the night train for Rangoon and were so fortunate as to have the _de luxe_ cars again.

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RANGOON: We reached the city early the following morning. Rangoon is located on the ocean and is furthermore aided by the Irrawaddy River, which is navigable for over nine hundred miles. It has an unrivalled location for future growth and permanence. Rangoon's increase has been phenomenal for this latitude; in 1852 it was a small fishing village; in 1904 the inhabitants numbered two hundred and fifty thousand, and there has since been a marked increase. The population is divided into Burmese, Hindus, Mohammedans, and Christians, with a sprinkling of other nationalities,--a variety which is distinctly recognized in the life of the city. It has a large export trade in rice, lumber, and oil, and a visit to one of the factories is almost always included by tourists.

The shipping at Rangoon presents a picturesque variety, as ocean steamers, river steamers, paddy boats, and quaint smaller vessels are always in evidence. The civil and municipal buildings do not, however, compare with those of such rival cities in India as Bombay, Calcutta, and Madras. The bazars in the European quarter are unusually fine, and it was a pleasure to visit them, silks, curios, and silver work being well displayed. In the native quarter those of the inhabitants to be seen on the street (previously described) had no distinctive character, but the native silk bazars were mostly in a large, low, poorly lighted building, divided into aisles. A visit to this neighborhood showed the happy-go-lucky features noticed in Mandalay.

Indeed, life in Burma is like a comic opera. I realized this one morning when going about simply to be amused. The market and pavements were crowded with persons of different nationalities,--the pineapple man with his tray of fruit, the Burmese girl with her pretty stall of cigars, the Hindu seller of betel, the Chinaman under his swaying burden of cooked meats and strange luxuries, the vermicelli man, the Indian confectioner with his silver-coated pyramids of sago and cream. It is of all crowds the most cosmopolitan. Here is the long-coated Persian with his air of breeding and dignity, jostled by the naked coolie with rings in his nose. The lady beauty of Japan dashes by in her jinrikisha drawn by a Chinese coolie, and the exclusive Brahman finds himself shoulder to shoulder with the laughing daughter of the soil who has never heard of caste.

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SHWE DAGON: The centre of attraction in Rangoon, however, is the Shwe Dagon Pagoda, which is famous wherever the Buddhist religion prevails; it is situated on an eminence, one hundred and sixty-six feet above the sea-level and towering up three hundred and sixty-eight feet. It is a very imposing structure, exceeding in height even St. Paul's Cathedral in London. This proportion gives it an air of dignity and repose, while its gilded surface from base to finial causes it to be truly magnificent.

The structure has no interior, being built solidly of brick over a relic chamber; hence its platform with a circumference of about fourteen hundred feet is the place for worship and also for many small pagodas. The great pagoda is of conical shape and is divided into twelve parts, and of these the ti, or umbrella, valued at £60,000, is the most costly and remarkable, and was the gift of King Mindon, the next to the last king of Burma. While from its great height it is scarcely visible, it is really thirteen and one-half feet high and is hung with about fifteen hundred bells, many of them gold. When heard at night, the effect is magical.

The southern entrance has a pair of gryphons, and beyond them is the entrance arch, which is inferior to the rest of the edifice. Here may be seen venders of many kinds, selling gold leaf (which is used by pilgrims on the surface of the pagoda), books, papers, toys, and offerings to place on the altar; and the scene around the stalls is instinct with life and gayety. Brightly dressed women and children, coquettish girls, nuns, and beggars all assemble here.

There are four flights of stairs, east, west, north, and south, leading up to the platform; the southern one being mostly used, as it looks down upon the thoroughfare. The western stairs have been closed to worshippers, as the place is now a British fortress.