the distance was
that of a cruet stand--and as we came within a mile it seemed to be made
of brick, white-washed!

Then we whirled into the station and came out amongst solid Mogul
architecture of dull, red, sandstone--splendidly massive and
simple--what a surprise! Then we visited the Taj Mahal, and ever hence,
I hope the vision of white marble and greenery will be ours!

CHAPTER XXXIX

AGRA.--I find India generally speaking is a little vexatious, and think
that perhaps the youth who stays at home may after all score over the
youth who is sent to roam. There is a little feeling all the time which
you felt as a child on seeing all sorts of delights arranged for dinner
guests, and you had toast and eggs in the nursery. Here we have just
time to see what sport there is; jolly social functions, pig-sticking,
picnics, shooting of all kinds, riding, splendid things to paint, and
subjects to study, pleasant people to meet--and have to cut up our time
between trains and guides and sights.

I think if I were to come to India again, I'd spend the cold weather in
one place, get to know the white people and the surrounding districts,
and merely listen to tales of fair Cashmere.

This preamble leads to notes of a somewhat qualified day at Black Buck:
two day's dip into sport against time. I got one buck the first day, and
could have taken more, they were literally in hundreds: this is how the
story unrolls itself.

Got away at 6.30 A.M., before dawn, in a two-horse open carriage, a
shikari on the box, a syce behind, and interpreter on the front seat,
and beside me a regular Indian luncheon basket big enough for an army,
and a great double 450 cordite express that would have done for the
Burmese Gaur.

The roads and mud huts were all the one warm clay-colour, and the light
was becoming violet, with a faint pink in the sky. In the country the
roads and fields were almost milk-colour, and trees with yellow flowers
were on either side. We met white donkeys with their burdens, and white
oxen drawing heavy wooden-wheeled carts all dust coloured, and the only
black in the soft colouring was that of the early crows.

... On the plains to either side there are patches of green crop, and
away to our right the minarets of the burial place of Akbar. Doves,
pigeons, starlings, kites, green parrots sit or flutter overhead as we
pass, all as tame as hens. Gradually the trees throw long shadows, and
old Sol comes up behind us, an