THE TOUR 339 



for then the forest woke up, and to the melancholy, 

 monotonous murmur of the river below were added the 

 cries of the wild animals in the woods and wastes 

 beyond, among them, and more frequent than I had 

 ever heard it before, the deep, dull roar of the tiger. 



Once or twice during my stay at the palace I amused 

 myself in the afternoons by short excursions on the 

 river. There was a rude, clumsy fisherman's boat lying 

 somewhere on the bank ; in this I had myself rowed up 

 the stream, and then I floated down again with the 

 current. Seen from the water, the appearance of the 

 palace was very imposing. The bank of the river on 

 which the palace stood was — I speak from memory — at 

 least forty feet or more in elevation, and for the entire 

 distance to which the palace extended, this lofty bank 

 had been scarped perpendicular, and faced with a 

 massive wall. The wall and the great octagon tower 

 which projected from it rose from the stream with an 

 aspect of much grandeur. Once I crossed the river 

 and paid a visit to the head of the canal. 



The head of the canal is some few miles above the 

 palace, not far from the spot where the Jumna issues 

 from the Shewalic. The river is formed by the union 

 of two streams, the Jumna and the Tonse, and of the 

 two the Tonse is by far the largest. It is broader, 

 deeper ; it bears along many times the greater volume 

 of water. In appearance it is the most imposing, and 

 yet, while the Jumna is known throughout the world, 

 few people, save in its immediate neighbourhood, are 

 aware even of the existence of the Tonse. I suppose 

 this pre-eminence accorded to the Jumna must be in 



