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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



Photograph by Maynard Owen Williams 



KIM'S CANNON AT LAHORE 



"He sat, in defiance of municipal orders, astride the gun Zam-Zammek, on her brick 

 platform, opposite the old Ajaibgher, the Wonder House, as the natives call the Lahore 

 Museum." 



side by side and sentimental lovers come 

 to deck their graves with flowers, is 

 steeped so deeply in a borrowed luster 

 due to love. 



Here, at Hassan Abdal, the Bucharian 

 prince, masquerading as a minstrel, 

 strummed his seven-stringed vina and 

 recited a story in which he set forth the 

 beauties of the Kashmir Vale toward 

 which the rose-veiled litter of his beloved 

 one was bound. It was the story of Nur 

 Mahal, the Light of the Palace, and as 

 he sang he gathered inspiration from the 

 eyes of Lalla Rookh, from which looked 

 forth a love she sought to kill because of 

 her betrothal to a man whose unfamiliar 

 image young Feramorz eclipsed. 



Not by the crystal pools of Shalimar 

 in Kashmir's rosy vale, but close beside 

 the shining rails of raucous iron steeds, 

 there stands the tomb of Lalla Rookh. 

 No one imagines that the lovely daughter 

 of Aurangzeb really lies there. That 

 tiny tomb, laden only with a legendary 

 queen, like the ungainly camel, remains to 

 lend a touch of poetry to a decadent land. 



At Agra one may see the fairest monu- 

 ment royal lover ever had erected to his 

 wife's memory. The Taj Mahal is known 

 to the world as a dream in marble. But 

 the tomb of Lalla Rookh is so lowly a 

 structure that it does not even confine the 

 imagination to material walls. And when 

 one leaves the spot and sees the hurried 

 natives crowding into modern railway 

 cars, he mourns the loss of a resplendent 

 past, when men knew how to love. 



RAWALPINDI, ENTREPOT FOR KASHMIR 

 SHAWLS 



A short, dull ride brings us to Rawal- 

 pindi, where the mail motor is impatiently 

 awaiting our train. If we choose to enter 

 the enchanted vale by mechanical power, 

 we can roll into Srinagar tomorrow after- 

 noon, after having braved the snows of 

 the 7,700- foot pass above Murree. Along 

 those two hundred miles of road we shall 

 never be for long beyond the sight or 

 sound of automobiles, for the patient 

 bullock cannot keep pace with the trans- 

 portation demands of India's "Happy 



