suzerain of the proudest princes in the world, the Rajahs and Maharajahs of India; and titular master of glittering armies, of jungles and deserts, villages and teeming cities, of a land over which seven great religions hold sway-Brahmin, Hindu, Jain, Buddhist, Zoroastrian, Mohammedan, and Christian! India is not one country; it cannot be described as a unit; it holds many peoples and many differing institutions; and throughout its length and breadth, through all its castes and climes, there exists a vast mystery never yet understood by Western minds. There are subtle undercurrents of thought and belief, elusive and mystic principles, which our science cannot explain. Western force can capture and Western law can control and govern, but Western philosophy is still baffled at Indian occultism. The English are the physical masters of the land, but spiritually the two races seem forever separated.

But the Durbar at Delhi is the proclamation of the controlling power of England as represented by her present King; and the Viceroy of India, Lord Curzon of Kedleston, is planning it to be the most brilliant ceremony ever held during the new régime. So there is not a vacant berth on any passenger ship leaving England for India, and Delhi will contain more Europeans during the first part of January than are to be found in most of the land at other times, the army excepted. Lady Curzon being an American, there will be a number of our country people there, as well as many French and Germans, and the hotels and lodging houses are charging extortionate rates. The humblest houses and even forlorn and primitive huts will be used to shelter the visitors; and the native princes, who will assemble from the various principalities, are preparing to show the most lavish hospitality to their English guests, in return for courtesies extended to them in England at the time of the coronation.

So new life will come to the picturesque city; its streets will blossom with the flower of Indian chivalry; Nawabs, in brocade and cloth-of-gold, in garments of glittering kinkob, with plumed turbans and gemstudded arms, wil throng the streets; chariots and elephants bravely caparisoned, richly harnessed white bullocks, and superb horses will make the scene

mediaval in its picturesqueness, and merchants will display costly fabrics, jewels, and armor, and rea) a golden harvest.

But Delhi in its usual life, and as I saw it, lies dreaming of days still more glorious. A profound peace has settled over it, and at night, when the hearth fires are lighted, the smoke settles down over the low dwellings in a blue-white haze, and the droning life of the day subsides and leaves the city wrapped in fatuous memories of the past.

As in Rome, there is the striking contrast of the old with the new, but in Delhi the two ages do not jostle each other so closely. In the modern town are the long, low hotels for travelers, the mosques, bazars, and dwellings of the natives. The streets are dusty, shadeless, and shabby, and swarming with people. The traveler is constantly beset by the merchants as he walks about; they thrust their wares and business cards under his nose and follow him even to his hotel. He cannot step from the door without stumbling over crouching figures who hastily spread out their embroideries and brocades before him. Jugglers crouch in the corners of the verandas ready to produce a little mango-tree from the seed "while you wait," or charm the snakes they uncoil from the basket, and beggars show their deformities and implore alms. The hotel is bare and chilly, and the traveler must, as always in India, bring his own servant, bedclothing, and napery with him. From my hotel, built on the city wall, I could look down on one side over a forest, and on another over the housetops. Here, so far north in the Punjab, chimneys are to be seen among the flat roofs and rounded domes. Fireplaces are in most of the houses, because the nights are very cold in winter, and all day there is a spice of coolness in the air. This naturally has its effect in the costumes of the people. In the south they wear scanty garments of thin white or dyed cotton; here one sees quilted coats and trousers on both men and women, heavy turbans, and, upon the richer class, Cashmere shawls of red, blue, green, and white, and embroidered cloaks.

To explore the city in comfort it is better to ride, as the importunate peddlers and beggars are thus somewhat avoided. and if one wishes to buy of the native

wares he should go to the shop of some reliable merchant. Here he is led up to the second story-all the houses are two stories high-given a chair and a cup of coffee, and then dazzling brocades and camel's-hairs from Kashmir, embroidered saris from China, Bokhara draperies, ivories, arms, jewels, rugs, and the treasures of many Eastern looms, are spread before him by subtly persuasive salesmen.

In spite of the shabby appearance of New Delhi, one notices many a beautiful façade, graceful alcove window, and carved marble arch, and a multitude of small pointed domes create Orientally picturesque sky-lines.

The two chief places of interest in New Delhi are the great parallelogram of marble palaces of the Moguls, and the Jama

Musjid, or Great Mosque. While wandering among these delicate marble palaces, one grows personally interested in such associations as those relating to Lalla Rookh, the wife of Shah Jahan, who now lies in the most beautiful sepulcher ever built for a woman (the peerless Taj Mahal at Agra), the Koh-i-nur, and the Peacock Throne. There is no European analogy to the Indian palace. It is not one great inclosed structure, for, with its arcades and open audience halls where the Moguls personally sat in judgment, accessible to the common people who presented their pleas without the intermediation of minister or secretary, it was a collection of scattered buildings. The Diwan-i-Amm, the Hall of Audience, is nearly two hundred feet long and is open, with arcades

on three sides. Here was the throne of the Emperor, with its canopy and protecting rear wall all built of marble, and it is perhaps the most exquisite and delicately beautiful example of carved and inlaid marble in the world. Here, inlaid in semiprecious stones and studded with jewels, birds of brilliant plumage are pictured, some on the wing, others poised upon sprays of foliage. Every feathered creature of the land is faithfully reproduced in mosaic in unfading colors, and the graceful arches rise in perfect symmetry, forming the canopy protecting the throne. Near by is the Hall of Private Audience, where the ruler received his ministers, and this likewise is built of marble and inlaid with gold and precious stones. Here was the famous Peacock Throne, whence the laws of India went forth. Behind it were the two peacocks with spread tails so inlaid with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and pearls that they gleamed with the colors of life. Between them was a parrot, life size, and carved out of a single emerald! The throne itself stood upon six pedestals of solid gold inlaid with gems, and beside it were two umbrellasOriental emblems of royaltyof embroidered crimson velvet fringed with pearls, and with handles eight feet high, of solid gold set with diamonds.

The eyes of one of the peacocks were made of the two enormous diamonds, the Koh-i-nur and the Koh-i-tur-the "Mountain of Light" and the "Mountain of Sinai." History tells us that when Nadir Shah sacked Delhi and destroyed the Peacock Throne, the Koh-i-nur was not to be found. But a woman revealed the fact that it was hidden in the turban of the Emperor. As a treaty had been made, further pillage by the conqueror would have violated

the proprieties, so the wily Nadir, at a banquet, suddenly proposed that he and the Emperor exchange their gemmed turbans in token of friendship. There was no way of refusing this offer, and the Emperor relinquished his headdress. Later, when the Nadir retired to his tent and eagerly explored the turban, behold, in its folds lay the "Mountain of Light," the Koh-i-nur! Thus this wonderful jewel was carried off to Lahore, and remained there till the advent of the East India Company, and later it was presented to Queen Victoria, and now, largely reduced in size by cutting, it is safely guarded among the treasures of the English crown. But the glory of New Delhi is its great Mosque, and when one mounts the most majestic flight of steps in the world and enters the vast platform inclosed by its colonnades and gateways, and sees the fierce sun beating down upon its white pavement and the fountain pool in the center, and looks across to the two great minars and the white domes rising into the blue sky, a vision of past glories and lost power comes to him. Here once walked the rulers and nobles of Ind, and had the Mutiny succeeded, here once again the Emperors would have paced under the marble arcades and their princesses, like sweet Lalla Rookh, would have been given in marriage to Eastern kings. But to-day only a few impassive natives lie asleep in shady corners, a silent figure or two crosses the vast square, standing out brilliantly against the gleaming marble, and the dim interior of the mosque is empty and silent. "This mosque," writes Temple, "built by the Emperor Shah Jahan, is probably the most beautiful, on a large scale, that has ever been seen by the world. Its vast dimensions, swelling cupolas, and lofty arches; its spacious courtyard, arcades, gateways, cloisters, and flight of steps, produce an imposing effect." But its vast size is hardly realized because of the perfection of proportion and the harmony of its coloring. The brilliant red sandstone contrasts with the dazzling marble, and the entire effect of this platform, with its surrounding arcades, its mosque and minars on one side and its lofty gateways midway in each of the other three, is one which first astonishes and then grows extraordinarily impressive as the details are comprehended.

Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, and when the air was almost frosty and not yet hazy with the powdery red dust raised by innumerable feet of men and beasts of burden, when the walls of New Delhi shone rosy against an azure sky, I drove along the eleven miles of this Indian Via Appia, bordered with the ruins of seven cities which had successively risen and fallen with the change of the centuries. Leaving the city by the Ajmir Gate, we drove through fertile fields with here and there a glint of water, the ruined gardens of noblemen whose names were long ago forgotten, and broken ruins or mounds telling of vanished glories. Passing the deserted observatory of Jai Singh II., India's greatest astronomer, who in the eighteenth century prepared the table of the stars, we came presently to a large tomb whose rounded dome rose fifty feet into the air. Directly beneath it was the usual marble tank, perhaps fifty feet square, and filled with stagnant water. As we looked, suddenly the dark, slim figure of a man was seen poised upon the summit of the dome, distinct against the sky. He had divested himself of clothing and was signaling to us. Then he crouched for an instant and gave a terrific spring, tense and quick as a panther, and shot forward into the air. Straightening out, he shot downward, arms straight above his head, and, clearing safely the roof of the mosque, struck the water with a sharp "chunk!" Widening circles of green ripples swept away to the sides of the tank, and then his head reappeared. Vigorously he struck out for the marble coping, climbed out, shook himself, and then pattered, dripping and obsequious, up to the carriage and craved the boon of four annas-about eight cents--for the feat!

In two

Near by was the tomb of Shah Jahan's daughter, exquisite with perforated marble screens and delicate tracery. A group of natives and a priest, crouching in the sun. by its walls, recalled some of Verestchagin's paintings of Indian scenes. hours Old Delhi was reached, a wilderness of dismantled palaces and tombs stretching away on all sides. Far behind us rose the walls, spires, and domes of the new city, rising like bubbles, filmy and iridescent, above the green plain. The sacred river Jumna sweeps through the