I found it exteriorly a beautiful pavilion of white marble crowned by
four domes of the same material, opening on one side to the court,
on the other to the garden of the palace. On entering, my eye was
at first conscious only of a confused interweaving of traceries and
incrustations of stones, nor was it until after a few moments that I
could bring myself to any definite singling out of particular elements
from the general dream of flowing and intricate lines; but presently
I was enabled to trace with more discriminating pleasure the flowers,
the arabesques, the inscriptions which were carved or designed in
incrustations of smaller stones, or inlaid or gilt on ceiling, arch
and pillar.

Yet what a sense of utter reverse of fortune comes upon one after the
first shock of the beauty of these delicate stone fantasies! Wherever
we went--in the Dewani Aum or hall of audience; in the Akbari Hammun
or imperial baths; in the Sammam Burj or private palace of the
padishahs, that famous and beautiful palace over whose gate the
well-known inscription stands, "If there is a Paradise on earth, it
is here;" in the court, in the garden--everywhere was abandonment,
everywhere the filthy occupations of birds, everywhere dirt, decay,
desolation.

It was therefore a prodigious change when, emerging from the main gate
of the palace, we found ourselves in the great thoroughfare of Delhi,
the Chandni Chowk (literally "Shining street"), which runs straight to
the Lahore gate of the city. Here an immense number of daily affairs
were transacting themselves, and the Present eagerly jostled the Past
out of the road. The shops were of a size which would have seemed very
absurd to an enterprising American tradesman, and those dealing in
the same commodities appeared to be mostly situated together--here the