although its customs are less brutal, places woman in
almost the same low position as Hinduism. In considering the status of
woman in India, therefore, scorned alike by both the great religions
of the country, it is gratifying to be able to make an end by
referring to this loveliest of all memorial structures. Of all that I
saw in India, excepting only the magnificent view of the Himalayas
from Tiger Hill, I should least like to forget the view of the Taj
Mahal in the full glory of the Indian full moon.

The inscription in Persian characters over the archway, "Only the Pure
in Heart May Enter the Garden of God," {245} is enough to assure one
that Arjmand Banu, "The Exalted One of the Palace," whose dust it was
built to shelter, was a queen as beautiful in character as she was in
form and feature. We know but little about her. There are pictures
which are supposed to carry some suggestion of her charm; there are
records to show that it was in 1615 that she became the bride of the
prince who later began to rule as "His Imperial Highness, the second
Alexander (Lord of the two Horns) King Shah Jehan," and we may see in
Agra the rooms in the palace where she dwelt for a time in the Arabian
Nights-like splendor characteristic of Oriental courts,

"Mumtaz-i-Mahal," they called her--"Pride of the Palace." And seven
times Arjmand Banu walked the ancient way of motherhood--that way
along which woman finds the testing of her soul, the mystic reach and
infinite meaning of her existence, as man must find his in some bitter
conflict that forever frees him from the bonds of selfishness. Seven
times she walked the mother's ancient way down to the gates of Death
and brought back a new life with her, but the eighth time she did not
return. And grief-stricken Shah Jehan, carrying in his heart a sorrow
which not all his pomp nor power could heal, declared that she should
have the most beautiful tomb that the mind of man could plan. So the
Taj was built--"in memory of a deathless love," and in a garden which
is always sweet with the odor of flowers, at the end of an avenue of
fountains and stately cypress trees, and guarded by four graceful,
heaven-pointing minarets, "like four tall court-ladies tending their
princess," there stands this dream in marble, "the most exquisite
building on earth."

With the memory of its beautiful dome and sculptured detail in our
thoughts, let us take leave of our subject; trusting that the Taj
itself, lik