et, and
nearly reach to the roof of the temple, which is about twenty-four
feet high. The walls of the temples and verandahs are full of idols
and statues of good and evil spirits. In one of the temples, a
battle of giants is represented. The figures are above life size,
and the whole of the figures, columns, verandahs and gateways, are
cut out of the solid rock. The enormous number and remarkable
beauty of the sculptures and reliefs on the columns, capitals,
friezes, gateways, and even on the roof of the temples, is indeed
most astonishing; the variety in the designs and devices is
inexhaustible. It appears incredible that human hands should have
been able to execute such masterly and gigantic works. The Brahmins
do, indeed, ascribe their origin to supernatural agencies, and
affirm that the era of their creation cannot be ascertained.

Remains of paintings are found on the walls, ceiling, and pillars,
the colours of which are brighter and fresher than those of many
modern works of art.

The second class of temples have an oval form, and have majestic
lofty portals leading immediately into the interior; they are called
chaitya. The largest of these temples has on each side a colonnade
of nineteen pillars--the smallest, one of eight; in these there are
no verandahs, no priest's cells, and no sanctuaries. Instead of the
latter, a high monument stands at the extremity of the temple. Upon
one of these monuments an upright figure of the deity Buddha is
sculptured in a standing position. On the walls of the larger
temple gigantic figures are hewn out of the solid rock, and under
these a sleeping Buddha, twenty-one feet in length.

After I had wandered about here for some hours, and had seen enough
of each of the temples, I was led back to one of them, and saw there
a small table well covered with eatables and drinkables, inviting me
to a welcome meal. Captain Gill had been so kind as to send after
me a choice tiffen, together with table and chairs, into this
wilderness. Thus refreshed and invigorated, I did not find the
return fatiguing. The house in which Captain Gill lives at Adjunta
is very remarkably situated: a pleasant little garden, with flowers
and shrubs, surrounds the front, which commands a view of a fine
plain, while the back stands upon the edge of a most fearful
precipice, over which the dizzy glance loses itself among steep
crags and terrible gorges and chasms.

As Captain Gill had learnt th