208 PINJOR 



new garden palace, in a fruitless effort to please 

 his disagreeable neighbours. 



A hundred yards below the village the road to 

 the gardens turns off over a little bridge. It 

 must be confessed that the approach is tame 

 and disappointing compared with that of the 

 great Kashmir gardens or the royal gardens of 

 the plains. Outside the walls, an open space 

 with a round grass plot and some meaningless 

 small flower-beds spoils the effect — an unhappy 

 reminder of the usual Anglo-Indian garden with 

 its drive and " gravel sweep," so beloved of 

 landscape-gardening days. My heart sank as I 

 drove through it, and I prepared myself for dis- 

 appointment at Pinjor. But the huge wall with 

 its fine arched gateway was reassuring, and 

 masses of purple bougainvillaea fell in briUiant 

 festoons of welcome over the glittering white- 

 washed surface of the entrance buildings. 



Through the main gateway the path leads 

 on to a square stone platform, raised five steps 

 above the garden and ornamented on three 

 sides with seats built into the low brick and 

 plaster wall. Here two fine old mango trees 

 with spreading gnarled arms cast a dense shade 

 even in the hot morning sunshine; and at the 



