On arrival we found a comfortable dak
bungalow, and, having made an excellent breakfast, sallied forth to view
the Kutab. May I confess that I was again a little disappointed? I do not
really know exactly why, but the great tower, whose fluted shaft, dark red
in the sunglow, shoots up some 270 feet into the air, did not appeal to me.
It is like no other column--it is unique, marvellous,--but it leaves me
cold.
The splendid arch of the screen of the old temple, and the lovely columns
of the Jain temple opposite, attracted me far more than the Kutab Minar.
Jane and young Buxton went off to see a native jump down a well fifty feet
deep for four annas. The performance sounded curious, but unpleasant. The
sightseers were much impressed! Meanwhile, Miss Buxton and I discovered a
very modern and exceedingly hideous little Hindu temple, painted in the
most appalling manner--altogether a gem of grotesqueness, and truly
delightful and refreshing.
Tea in front of the dak bungalow, in a corner blazing with "gold mohurs"
and rosy oleanders, while the driver and the syce harnessed the lean pair
of horses, a final visit to the Kutab and the great arch, and we fared
back over the eleven bumpy miles that lay between us and Delhi.
A good deal of my spare time, while Jane was _hors de combat_, was spent
in the jewellers' shops of the Chandni chowk, the principal merchants'
quarter of Delhi. I do not think that anything very special in the way of
a "bargain" is to be obtained by the amateur, although stones are
undoubtedly cheaper than in London.
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