ways regret that Shah Jehan did not carry out his original
intention of erecting a second Taj of black marble for himself at Agra,
opposite the wonderful tomb he built for his beloved Muntaz-i-Mahal;
probably the money ran out. Few people take in that the dome of the
Taj, that great airy white soap-bubble, is actually higher than the
dome of St. Paul's. The play of fancy and invention of Shah Jehan's
architects seems inexhaustible. All the exquisite white marble
pavilions of Agra palace differ absolutely both in design and
decoration, and Akbar's massive red sandstone buildings make the most
perfect foil to them that could be conceived.

Lucknow is one of the pleasantest stations in India, with its ring of
encircling parks, and the broad, tree-shaded roads of its cantonments,
but the pretentious monuments with which the city is studded will not
bear examination after the wonders of Agra and Delhi. The King of Oude
wished to surpass the Mogul Emperors by the magnificence of his
buildings, but he wished, too, to do it on the cheap. So in Lucknow
stucco, with very debased details, replaces the stately red sandstone
and marble of the older cities.

In 1890 after a long day's sight-seeing in Lucknow, in the course of
which we ascended the long exterior flight of steps of the great
Imambarah on an elephant (who proved himself as nimble as a German
waiter in going upstairs), Lady Lansdowne and I were taken to the
Husainabad just as the short-lived Indian twilight was falling. On
passing through its great gateway I thought that I had never in my life
seen anything so beautiful. At the end of a long white marble-paved
court, a stately black-and-white marble tomb with a gilded dome rose
from a flight of steps. Down the centre of the court ran a long pool of
clear water, surrounded by a gilded railing. On either side of the
court stood great clumps of flowering shrubs, also enclosed in gilded
railings. At the far end, a group of palms were outlined in jet black
against that vivid lemon-coloured afterglow only seen in hot countries;
peacocks, perched on the walls of the court, stood out duskily purple
against the glowing expanse of saffron sky, and the sleeping waters of
the long pool reflected the golden glory of the flaming vault above
them.

In the hush of the evening, and the half-light, the scene was lovely
beyond description, and for eighteen years I treasured in my mind the
memory of the Husainabad at sunset as the vision