THROUGH THE HEART OF HINDUSTAN 



449 



Photograph by Maynard Owen Williams 



India's greatest caste-destroyer 



To the railway train is due much of the modern breakdown of caste rules and Oriental 

 courtesy; "Each for himself" is the rule beside the tomb of Lalla Rookh, as it is in the 

 subway beneath Trinity Church. 



Valley," circled though it is in winter by 

 snow-clad hills. 



But, attractive as side trips are, there 

 are reasons for staying on the main road. 

 Rawalpindi will engage us for a while, 

 largely on account of its being an entrepot 

 for the soft shawls, the fine wood-carving, 

 and the gaily-colored embroidery of Kash- 

 mir. The old rose, magenta, and soft 

 purple embroideries of earlier and more 

 discerning days are now difficult to ob- 

 tain, and the present trend is toward 

 autumn maple tints and a turquoise blue 

 which seems to reflect the evening light 

 on the dome of Timur's tomb, far away 

 across the mountains in silken Samarkand. 



One can still obtain warm shawls, 

 ample enough to give a Carmen room in 

 which to sway lithe limbs while stamping 

 pretty feet to spirited fandangos, but so 

 soft that they can easily be passed through 

 a wedding ring. The matchless shawls 

 of old, however, are no longer to be found 

 in the market-place. One mass of beauti- 

 fully blended colors and intricate details, 

 these priceless treasures were elaborated 



on the loom and were not, like so many 

 of the modern shawls and chadars, simply 

 soft stuffs of wool or pashm, decorated 

 with chain-stitch needlework, ground out 

 on a machine. 



IN LAHORE, CAPITAL OE THE PUNJAB 



Lahore, the city of Kipling and Kim, 

 is worthy of a story of its own, though 

 the Anglo-Indian genius has already 

 sketched its charm in deft phrases which 

 suggest the very spirit of the place. As 

 capital of the Punjab, Lahore is being 

 beautified with many buildings which re- 

 tain the spirit of the past and in the plan- 

 ning of which the father of the Bard of 

 the Barrack Room had a hand. 



The crowded bazaars, overhung by 

 balconies behind whose lattice fronts 

 bright eyes look down upon a world from 

 which the women are withdrawn, are 

 always amove with life, and out behind 

 the Great Mosque, whose lonely beauty 

 gains impressiveness from lack of teem- 

 ing crowds, pastoral flocks make one 

 forget the narrow streets, while shep- 



