316 A Sportswoman in India 



heightened by the rude simplicity of the arrangements, 

 by the weird music, by the flaring street under the 

 quiet stars, by the impressed throng, and by the 

 strenuous demand upon the imagination. The whole 

 scene might have been a dream inspired by the 

 marble buildings, by the tall minars, and by this 

 ant-heap of humans swarming round their wood 

 and mud houses a murmuring, gesticulating, seething 

 welter of inflammable emotions and passions. 



The next morning we drove out nine miles from 

 Delhi to see two of the most interesting monuments 

 left in India. One is the famous Kutab Minar, a 

 tapering round tower, like a pencil set upright on 

 one end ; the other is a solid shaft of some wrought 

 metal of which the actual nature is unknown ; twenty- 

 five feet are above ground, twenty-two are below. 

 It stands sunk in stone, and bears a Sanscrit inscription 

 in six lines recording the history of one Raja Dhava. 



As we drove out of Delhi along hot and dusty 

 roads shaded by tamarisks, stony, sandy soil on 

 either sides, cultivated only through careful irrigation, 

 we were making our way across what was evidently 

 a land of ruins. Empty tombs and cracked walls, 

 crumbled domes and shattered pillars, broke the 

 monotonous stretches on either side the road ; here 

 and there a few trees testified to what had once 

 been a well-watered garden, while a ruined gateway 

 and marble pavement suggested a bygone home. 

 Small wonder when it is known that the debris of 

 ancient buildings around Delhi covers an area of 



