towns lose their power to interest, they journey north to
Rajputana to revel in Jeypore, the unique--at least, lovers of Kipling
do. And the effect on jaded senses is like a cooling draught after a
parching thirst. Kipling called Jeypore "A pink city, to see and puzzle
over," It surely is pink, all of it that is not sky-blue, and for
various reasons it is more satisfying than any other town in India.

For a land where time is calculated by century units, Jeypore is almost
as recent as a "boom" city on an American prairie. As a fact, its first
building was reared only a hundred and seventy-eight years ago; and this
modernity explains thoroughfares of remarkable breadth that cross each
other at right angles. Generations the senior of Jeypore, New York is no
better exponent of the checker-board idea. Jeypore is but the setting of
a scene harking back to medieval days, however, and is the capital of an
independent state greater in area than Belgium, and from its palace and
judicial chambers nearly three million souls are governed. Nowhere in
India, outside the great Rajputana province, is it possible to view a
picture of happy and contented life, and in the city of Jeypore this is
seen in its perfection.

This ornate capital on the plains, hemmed in by fortress-crowned hills,
is a veritable stronghold of feudal barons and armed retainers, of
hermits and monasteries, and is dotted with palaces and public buildings
pertaining to the Maharajah's rule. Many of the structures are new
enough to suggest what Americans love to call "modern conveniences." The
principal streets are broader than Broadway, as well paved, and
illuminated by gas systematically enough installed to indicate the
presence behind the scenes of European engineers. Strange to say,
Jeypore is an Indian city wherein the lordly Briton in khaki is never
seen: if the English functionary be here, his master is none other than
the Maharajah. Through its streets surge a people almost childish in
their happiness, some in ekkas drawn by matched pairs of bullocks,
others mounted high on the backs of trotting camels, while bands of
chattering Rajputs on foot are omnipresent--every grouping reminds of
something witnessed on the stage, and the _tout ensemble_ might be the
great scene of a realistic opera intended to glorify the people and the
institutions of India.

Feminine adornment is carried in Jeypore to its extreme. The bright-hued
skirts of the women are flare-fash