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Rh Soorajbux took us to his high-school building, showed us his illuminated Persian books, and asked many naïve questions about the outer world. "The Japanese—are they at all like the Hindus? Of what religious caste are they? Are they civilized like us?" And we left Soorajbux exclaiming: "What! they are the most refined and artistic people in the world! Their art a revelation to and the despair of all Europe! They are more esthetic than the English! How very wonderful! Do the English know it?"

In the afternoon the courteous old diwan returned our visit, his yellow turban and suite sending the bangla staff into such agitation that we barely made the station and train in time as a fierce thunder-storm came on. We dined and waited a few hours at Bandikui Junction, and then took train for Agra, arriving at half-past three in the morning; for, no matter from which direction the traveler comes, it seems impossible ever to reach Agra at a rational hour. We stopped this time at the hotel where the German professor had enjoyed the grilled mutton-chops, and a notice on the wall of my room requested: "Visitors will please not beat the servants, but report them to the manager, who will punish them."

We revisited the Taj on a gray, cloudy morning, the moist air heavy with the fragrance of flowers. We sat again on the balcony of the Jasmine Tower at the fort and watched a murky sunlight play upon the distant white bubbles of the Taj, and then took an afternoon train for Cwalior. The whole time-