ay ten times a day; but there is no
getting at their nests, or we should soon get rid of them.' They then
told me that the sacred bird of the Koran was the 'ababil', or large
black swallow, and not the 'partadil', a little piebald thing of no
religious merit whatever.[13] On the right side of the entrance is
engraven on stone in large letters, standing out in bas-relief, the
following passage in Arabic: 'Jesus, on whom be peace, has said, "The
word is merely a bridge; you are to pass over it, and not to build
your dwellings upon it".' Where this saying of Christ is to be found
I know not, nor has any Muhammadan yet been able to tell me; but the
quoting of such a passage, in such a place, is a proof of the absence
of all bigotry on the part of Akbar.[14]

The tomb of Shaikh Salim, the hermit, is a very beautiful little
building, in the centre of the quadrangle.[15] The man who guards it
told me that the Jats, while they reigned, robbed this tomb, as well
as those at Agra, of some of the most beautiful and valuable portion
of the mosaic work.[16] 'But,' said he, 'they were well plundered in
their turn by your troops at Bharatpur; retribution always follows
the wicked sooner or later.'[17] He showed us the little roof of
stone tiles, close to the original little dingy mosque of the old
hermit, where the Empress gave birth to Jahangir;[18] and told us
that she was a very sensible woman, whose counsels had great weight
with the Emperor.[19] 'His majesty's only fault was', he said, 'an
inclination to learn the art of magic, which was taught him by an old
Hindoo religious mendicant,' whose apartment near the palace he
pointed out to us.

'Fortunately,' said our cicerone, 'the fellow died before the Emperor
had learnt enough to practise the art without his aid.'

Shaikh Salim had, he declared, gone more than twenty times on
pilgrimage to the tomb of the holy prophet; and was not much pleased
to have his repose so much disturbed by the noise and bustle of the
imperial court. At last, Akbar wanted to surround the hill with
regular fortifications, and the Shaikh could stand it no longer.[20]
'Either you or I must leave this hill,' said he to the Emperor; 'if
the efficacy of my prayers is no longer to be relied upon, let me
depart in peace.' 'If it be _your majesty's_ will,' replied the
Emperor, 'that one should go, let it be your slave, I pray.' The old
story: 'There is nothing like relying upon the efficacy of our
prayers,'