of. His tongue,
which may frequently be heard in the City, seems to possess some variant
of the Zulu click, which gives it a weird and unearthly character. From
the main gate of the City the Englishman climbed uphill towards the
Palace and the Jugdesh Temple built by one Juggat Singh at the
beginning of the last century. This building must be--but ignorance is a
bad guide--Jain in character. From basement to the stone socket of the
temple flagstaff, it is carved in high relief with elephants, men, gods,
and monsters in friezes of wearying profusion.

The management of the temple have daubed a large portion of the building
with whitewash, for which their revenues should be "cut" for a year or
two. The main shrine holds a large brazen image of Garuda, and, in the
corners of the courtyard of the main pile, are shrines to Mahadeo, and
the jovial, pot-bellied Ganesh. There is no repose in this architecture,
and the entire effect is one of repulsion; for the clustered figures of
man and brute seem always on the point of bursting into unclean,
wriggling life. But it may be that the builders of this form of house
desired to put the fear of all their many gods into the hearts of the
worshippers.

From the temple whose steps are worn smooth by the feet of men, and
whose courts are full of the faint smell of stale flowers and old
incense, the Englishman went to the Palaces which crown the highest hill
overlooking the City. Here, too, whitewash had been unsparingly applied,
but the excuse was that the stately fronts and the pierced screens were
built of a perishable stone which needed protection against the weather.
One projecting window in the facade of the main palace had been treated
with Minton tiles. Luckily it was too far up the wall for anything more
than the colour to be visible, and the pale blue against the pure white
was effective.

A picture of Ganesh looks out over the main courtyard, which is entered
by a triple gate, and hard by is the place where the King's elephants
fight over a low masonry wall. In the side of the hill on which the
Palaces stand is built stabling for horses and elephants--proof that the
architects of old must have understood their business thoroughly. The
Palace is not a "show place," and, consequently, the Englishman did not
see much of the interior. But he passed through open gardens with tanks
and pavilions, very cool and restful, till he came suddenly upon the
Pichola lake, and forgot altog