heavy perfume into the atmosphere, but begged to be excused because it
was the custom of the country and he didn't like to hurt anyone's
feelings. He then stood at the door, waving farewells, and directly the
line took a bend flung the wreaths out of the window. I was glad of his
company, for in addition to these floral offerings his Bombay associates
had provided him with a barrel of the best oranges that ever were grown
--sufficient for a battalion--and these we consumed at brief intervals
all the way to Delhi.




DELHI


"If you can be in India only so short a time as seven weeks," said an
artist friend of mine--and among his pictures is a sombre representation
of the big sacred bull that grazes under the walls of Delhi Fort--"why
not stay in Delhi all the while? You will then learn far more of India
than by rushing about." I think he was right, although it was not
feasible to accept the advice. For Delhi has so much; it has, first and
foremost, the Fort; it has the Jama Masjid, that immense mosque where on
Fridays at one o'clock may be seen Mohammedans of every age wearing
every hue, thousands worshipping as one; it has the ancient capitals
scattered about the country around it; it has signs and memories of the
Mutiny; it has delectable English residences; and it has the Chadni
Chauk, the long main street with all its curious buildings and crowds
and countless tributary alleys, every one of which is the East
crystallised, every one of which has its white walls, its decorative
doorways, its loiterers, its beggars, its artificers, and its defiance