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Updated: May 17, 2025
Speaking of clean things " "Who was she?" Cadman asked. "She was the most beautiful thing on earth. She was indeed the most marvellous thing on earth, being a Bombay singing nautch-girl undefamed. There has been no one else, these ages." The Doctor sat smoking, apparently oblivious of his guests. "The Spartan Helen?" Cadman suggested. "Hah! The Spartan Helen was not invincible!" "The Noor Mahal?"
Some of the buildings are allowed to remain empty for the pleasures of tourists; others are occupied for military purposes, and the Rung Mahal, one of the most beautiful, formerly the residence of the Mogul's favorite wife, is now used for a messroom by the officers of the garrison.
"I am not talking of the ices, grandfather, though no doubt they are good. I am talking about the cathedral." "Are you, my boy?" Captain Bayley said, rousing himself. "Yes, there are cathedrals which beat Milan when seen in broad daylight, but in the moonlight there is no building in the world to compare with it, unless it be the Taj Mahal at Agra.
"Yes, in this country and in every land of oppression, distress, corruption, and slavery." "Could we but induce Djalma to join us, as Mahal the Smuggler advised," said the Indian, "our voyage to Java would doubly profit us; for we should then number among our band this brave and enterprising youth, who has so many motives to hate mankind." "He will soon be here; let us envenom his resentments."
"My sire was called the 'Father of the Generous," answered the young Indian, as a shade of sorrow passed over his fine countenance. These words appeared in part to convince Mahal of the identity of Djalma; but, wishing doubtless to be still more certain, he resumed: "You must have received, two days ago, a letter from General Simon, written from Sumatra?" "Yes; but why so many questions?"
Up to the time we had seen this I think I liked it the best of any; but then Noor Mahal had built it for her father, and I was predisposed to like this proof of her filial devotion. There is one romantic and perfect love story concerning her in the annals of the Moguls.
In that case it must have been the apartment of his Empress, the beautiful and accomplished Nur Mahal. It was afterwards occupied by Mumtaz Mahal, the lady of the Taj. Here, also, in full view of the famous monument he had raised to her memory, died her husband, Shah Jahan sensualist, perhaps, but true to his last hours to one great master-passion.
So we went the regulation round of Delhi and Agra, the Taj Mahal, and the Ghats at Benares, at railroad speed, fulfilling the whole duty of the modern globe-trotter. Lady Meadowcroft looked at everything for ten minutes at a stretch; then she wanted to be off, to visit the next thing set down for her in her guide-book.
Above the parapet, in its centre, an enormous clay lion, with dependent mane, hung out its red tongue. This was Nagendra's boita khana. On both sides of the gate were the doorkeepers' lodges. The large hall of worship formed one side of the puja mahal; on the other three sides were two-storied houses. No one lived in this mahal.
If I had not previously seen in America a necromancer cut his wife's head off, and then put it on again so slick that she seemed to have received no injury, I might have begun to believe that this Indian juggler had supernatural powers. To Lucknow succeeded Agra. The great wonder and prize of Agra is, of course, the Taj Mahal.
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