Sabz Ali being curled up asleep in an "intermediate," was
all unwitting of this upheaval. The officials were impatient, and so Jane
and I were in a thoroughly unchristian frame of mind by the time we were
stowed, hot and greatly fussed, into a stifling compartment, whose
dust-begrimed windows long withstood all endeavours to open them.
We reached Lahore about noon, and, having some six hours to dispose of
there, we spent them in calm contemplation, sitting on the verandah of
Nedou's Hotel. It was really too hot to think of sight-seeing.
_Thursday, October 19_.--Another night in the train brought us to Delhi at
dawn, and we drove up to the execrable caravansary of Mr. Maiden. I do not
propose to write much about Delhi. Every one who has been in India has
visited the capital of the Moguls, whose wealth of splendid buildings
would alone have rendered it a supreme attraction for the sight-seer, even
had it not played the part it did in the Mutiny, and been memorable as the
scene of the storming of the Kashmir Gate and the death of John Nicholson.
We, personally, carried away from Delhi an uncomfortable sense of
disappointment. It was very hot, and Jane fell a victim to the heat or
something, and took to her bed in the comfortless hotel, while I prowled
sadly about the baking streets, and tried to work up an enthusiasm which I
did not feel.
As soon as Jane was fit, we joined forces with a young fellow-countryman
and his sister, who were the only other English people in the hotel, and
drove out to see the Kutab Minar.
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