A
little lawn of softest turf slopes up gently to the ruined mosque, of
which a portion of an apse and vaulted dome alone stand sentinel over its
fallen greatness. Around lie the tombs of princes, whose bones have
mouldered for eight hundred years under the irises, which wave their green
sabres crowned with royal purple in the whispering twilight.
Near by, the mud and timber walls of a ziarat stand, softly brown,
supporting a deeply overhanging, grass-grown roof, blazing with scarlet
tulips. Through its very centre, and as though supporting it, pierces the
gnarled trunk of a walnut tree, reminding one of Ygdrasil, the Upholder of
the Universe.
_May_ 27.--What an improvement it would be if a house-dounga could be
fitted with torpedo netting! Jane finds herself in the most embarrassing
situations, while dressing in the morning, from the unwelcome pertinacity
of the merchants who swarm up the river in the early hours from their
lairs, and lay themselves alongside the helpless house-boats.
By 10 A.M. we have to repel boarders in all directions. Mr. Sami Joo is
endeavouring to sell boots from the bow, while Guffar Ali is pressing
embroidery on our acceptance from the stern. Ali Jan is in a boat full of
carved-wood rubbish on the starboard side, while Samad Shah, Sabhana, and
half-a-dozen other robbers line the river bank opposite our port windows
and clamour for custom. A powerful garden-hose of considerable calibre
might be useful, but for the present I have given Sabz Ali orders to rig
out long poles, which will prevent the enemy from so easily getting to
close quarters.
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