the other way. Cobra, in this case, won the day, as announced by the squealing of the mongoose, who was immediately liberated by the exhibitor, and each of the combatants restored to its bag. With an untrained snake the mongoose would have been more successful. I am offered the snake as a purchase for a reasonable sum, but it was an awkward thing to carry about as a curio, and I could not stay to learn the music that was necessary to doing business with it.

Birds are very cleverly trained by these Hindoos. An exhibition in that way followed on that of the snake and mongoose. I see a canary pick from out of a dozen slips of paper thrown together one on which I had made a mark; known, as I thought, only to myself. How the bird also knew it is one of those mysteries that I put away with the wonders I had seen done by the jugglers in Madras and Calcutta.

Lucknow will remain in memory as a dream of desolated grandeur-gay-looking palaces, gilded domes, and gardens of delight. Zobeide, in the "Arabian nights," offers to bet her "garden of delights" against the Caliph's palace of pictures. The stake might have been one of these Lucknow gardens. The memory of the visitor will recall also its architectural wonders and curiosities-its desecrated temples, deserted halls, and siege-battered buildings-the glory that has gone, "leaving doors and windows wide." Here are the "cloudcapp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples disappearing all "like the baseless fabric of a vision," and leaving but wrecks behind. Such is the lesson of Lucknow !

The journey onwards, that is now resumed, is fortunately with my American friends. In the next stage it will be again necessary to sleep in the train en route. To do that in a horizontal position, all of the carriage is wanted by the four of us, and one of that number is a lady! She must have a side of the carriage to herself, and one of us must lie on the shelf above, which is secured by straps at each end, and now holds luggage and hats and umbrellas. It was necessary to divide the carriage at night into two compartments, by hang

ing a travelling-rug across its width from top to bottom. At this piece of upholstery my Americans were very effective, and also at another device which had equally to be thought about. We found that we could not secure the carriage to ourselves, and might have others thrust in upon us who would discompose our arrangements. My Americans are fertile of resource. A small-pox epidemic had been spreading a scare throughout Hindoostanand of that they now took advantage. One of them feigns to be sick of it, and lies at full length on a seat-his head wrapped in a white handkerchief, whenever the train comes to a stoppage at a station. Those who would come into the carriage are asked not to sit too near the sick one, and informed of the sad state of the matter, and that our friend is on his way to the hospital. As there is an hospital in every city, that is not far from the truth. The end is said to justify the means used, and it is by such bamboozling that my lively friends gain their end, and "Hold the Fort," as they term it, against all comers.

CHAPTER X.

INDIA'S MOHAMMEDAN CAPITAL.

"TIMOUR the Tartar" and "The great Mogul " are historic characters, of whom every one has heard. The next stage in my Hindoostan journey introduces me to that Delhi-the Mohammedan capital of India, which they made as famous in the world as themselves. I am in such haste to see Delhi that I overrun another city by the way, to which I must return, as it has a name in the story lately made more prominent even than this great Delhi, though from other and sadder causes. I had heard of the Mogul's city in early youth, however, and of Cawnpore not until recently. Youthful impressions being of the strongest, Delhi so draws me to it, irresistibly. Literature has helped to its great fame. Many of the scenes of Lalla Rookh are laid there, and Moore's pleasant imagery and word-painting take hold of the reader, and remain in the memory-thus giving to Delhi a poetical, equally with an historical, interest.

In Indian names particularly are the changes observable that we see in all earthly things-Delhi is here spelled "Dehli," and Mogul is now modernized into "Mughul" and "Mughal." The famous city is some thousand miles from Calcutta, nearly as far from Bombay, and on the west bank of the Jumna River. A fine high level bridge, the grandest in India, of lattice girder form, iron build, and twelve spans of two hundred feet, is a good introduction to the greatness of the city it leads to. The Delhi of to-day is but one of many Delhis, the remains of which lie round about. It is the one,

however, that was taken by Lake at the siege of it by the English in 1803. After fifty years' possession, it had to be again besieged and retaken, after a far greater tussle, in 1857, when the mutineers of that fatal year in India held it, well garrisoned, for several months. Its greatness, even now, is testified by its selection for the public proclamation of its last Empress.

It is a wonder of a city in the mere outside sight of it, and still more wonderful in those surroundings which remain of its predecessors-the Delhis of the past. A massive stone wall stretches for some seven miles around three sides of it— the river guarding its fourth side. Ten or eleven gates can be counted in the walk round, which takes up half a day-so many things are there to detain one by the way, and so very warm is the climate. The many conquerors that Delhi has had from times to which history runs appear to have considered a new city indispensable. The conquered one was therefore abandoned, and its people set to work, as slaves, to build a new one. Hence the remains of Delhis of the past, the ruins of which I shall see, after a look of what remain of the present one. It is only the "remains" of the present Delhi that I can see after all. I should have been here in the last century-about 1738-to have seen Delhi in all its glory, ere the Persians then despoiled it. There are things better worth seeing, however, in the present, as there will be yet better ones in the future. The best sights that the world has ever had to show its people are to be seen now.

The fine Shalimar Gardens are one of the exterior sights, and one that has got a name of which the world has heard. Like the interior Great Mosque, and that wonderful KootubMinar column that I shall yet see at one of the old Delhis, these gardens are kept in a fit state. The present ruling power in India thus acknowledges throughout the land the great worth of the works of genius and talent of which it seems rightly enough to look upon itself as but a trustee. Thus I shall find the grand Taj Mahal at Agra in as wellkept state as it was in the lifetime of its builder.

The Chandni Chouk.

113

Entering by the Lahore gate, and that by accident only, I come at once upon Delhi's chief street, the fine Chandni Chouk, or "street of silver." This goodly thoroughfare is of about a hundred feet broad, and nearly a mile in length, with a double row of trees adown the centre, between which is a raised walk. The city has another street, less given to business, but of about the same noble proportions and minus the central tree avenue. Madras, Calcutta, Benares, Lucknow, and Delhi, as I have seen them, are all on the ascending scale in the traveller's estimation, and for that reason he is glad that his curiosity has led him onwards.

The Chandni Chouk alluded to, is the combined Cheapside and Regent Street of the city. Here are found the stores of the leading dealers, and those merchants whose presence is not so publicly announced, but who have to be found in first floors, and away in back buildings. More prominent are the dealers in Cashmere shawls and caps, and those labours of the needle called "chicken work." Also, the vendors of gold, silver, and silk embroidered work, and the gold and silversmiths, whose delicate efforts, "filagree work," are of world-wide note. It is impossible for the most determined economist not to purchase cashmere caps, and something in the way of this delicate jewellery, as also some of the carved ivory work, which is another of Delhi's industries. Such purchases would fail to impoverish the smallest purse-so cheap is all Hindoo labour.

I invade the warehouses of the merchants in out-of-the-way holes and corners, and have unlocked for me safes, boxes, and chests, in which everything appears to be kept from, instead of for, show. It has all a very antique air-this way of doing business; but I forget that Eastern fashions are as they ever were and will be. A concession has been made, however, in that respect in Delhi, by most of the traders putting up their names and specialities of their wares in more languages than one. The like is done with the names of the streets. It shows thoughtfulness for the world generally to see this, and but reminds one of the many foreigners with whom Delhi has changed hands.