s peculiar to the splendid era of Mohammedan rule in
India, and which are not to be matched elsewhere. The day following my
arrival I conclude to take a spin out on my bicycle as far as the Kootub,
and see something of it, the ruins amid which it stands, and the Hindoos
in holiday attire. I choose the comparative coolness of early morning for
the ride out; but early though it be, the road thither is already
swarming with gayly dressed people bent on holiday-making. The road is a
worthy offshoot of the Grand Trunk, not a whit less smooth of surface,
nor less lovely in its wealth of sacred shade-trees. Moreover, it passes
through a veritable wilderness of ruined cities, mosques, tombs, and
forts the whole distance, and leads right through the magnificent remains
of the ancient Hindoo city itself.

The Kootub Minar is found to be a beautifully fluted column, two hundred
and forty feet high, and it soars grandly above the mournful ruins of old
Dilli, its hoary wealth of crumbled idol temples, tombs, and forts. The
minar is supposed to have been erected in the latter part of the twelfth
century to celebrate the victory of the Mohammedans over the Hindoos of
Dilli. The general effect of the tall, stately Mohammedan monument among
the Hindoo ruins is that of a proud gladiator standing erect and
triumphant amid fallen foes. At least, that is how it looks to me, as I
view it in connection with the ruins at its base and ponder upon its
history. A spiral stairway of three hundred and seventy-five steps leads
to the summit. A group of natives are already up there, enjoying the cool
breezes and the prospect below. In the comprehensive view from the summit
one can read an instructive sermon of centuries of stirring Indian
history in the gray stone-work of ruined mosques and tombs and fortresses
and pagan temples that dot the valley of the Jumna hereabout almost as
thickly as the trees.

Strange crowds have congregated on this rare old historic camping-ground
in ages past. It was a strange crowd, gathered here for a strange
purpose, on that traditional occasion, when Rajah Pithora, in the fourth
century of the Christian era, had the celebrated iron shaft dug up to
satisfy his curiosity as to whether it had transfixed the subterranean
snake-god Vishay. There is a strange crowd gathered here to-day, too; I
can hear their shouting and their tom-toming come floating up from among
the ruins and the dark-green foliage as I look down from my