As we drove to the station, we passed the group of ancient "chatries" or
tombs of dead and gone Ranas of Mewar, and halted for a short inspection,
as, the train by which we were to travel to Chitorgarh being a "special,"
we were not bound to a precise moment for our appearance on the platform.
Jane, who is perfectly Athenian in her passion for novelty, decided to
travel on the engine, and proceeded to do so; until, at the first
halting-place, a grimy and somewhat dishevelled female climbed into our
carriage, and the next half-hour was fully occupied in scooping smuts out
of her eyes with teaspoons.
It had been arranged that an elephant should await our arrival at
Chitorgarh to take us up to the ancient city, but a careful search into
every nook and cranny failed to reveal the missing animal.
So my host and I set out on foot to cross a mile or so of plain which
spread in deceptive smoothness between us and the ascent to the city. What
seemed a serene and level track became quickly entangled in a maze of
rough little knobs and nullahs, and we took a vast amount of exercise
before arriving at the old bridge which spans the Gamberi River.
Meanwhile, towering over the scrubby bushes and surrounded by a dusty halo,
the dilatory pachyderm bore down upon us, and, after the mahout had been
interviewed in unmeasured terms by my host, went rolling slowly to the
station to pick up the ladies.
The ancient city of Chitor lies crumbling and desolate on the back of a
long, level-topped hill, which rises solitary to the height of some five
hundred feet above the far-stretching plain.
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