ABSTRACT
It is grilling, but a merciful breeze makes life not only endurable, but positively ideal. I have, alas! said my last good-bye to Umballa since I reluctantly tore myself away from Delhi; and today my resting-place is Gwalior, in the hotel of that name. On the whole I should certainly advocate a stop here for a day or two, especially as it is on the main “bus route” of Indian railways. For lovers of tangible history it is possible that the interminable lists of rulers, assassins and puppets, with their attendant wars and ups and downs, will fail to satisfy their historic appetite, whetted as it is by the sight of the grandly situated fort, looking, as it does, like some Stirling Castle in the centre of a plain; while for those whose delight it is to substitute the records of the past by the attractions of the present I again am slightly dubious whether modern printing presses, colleges and princely stables will quite meet all requirements.
