of its surrounding wall crowded with the guests of the Viceroy and the Government, its steps holding a multitude of Mussulmans. In the left cupola, clearly visible to the sightseers, sat the Viceroy and the Duke and Duchess of Connaught and many notable men and women. The building was outlined by rows of tiny lamps. All round, as far as the eye could see, swarm upon swarm of eager spectators. You looked to the left far over the illuminated city. Nothing but a sea of people met the gaze. The whole of Delhi had turned out to see the show. This was its night of nights, the one spectacle that drew countless beholders. Wherever your glance roved there was the same array of upturned faces. The hum of innumerable voices filled the air. No longer was Delhi an awed onlooker at the stupefying splendour of pageantry. The crowd burst into roars of delight as the successive marvels of the pyrotechnist's art were lit up before them. It was a wondrous scene; and as its background you saw the massive walls of the Fort picked out in myriads of lamps, and glowing a bright red in the dazzling brilliance of the showers of gorgeous stars.
Brock for once surpassed his greatest triumphs. Probably India has never seen a more magnificent display of fireworks. They extorted admiration from the most jaded and cynical onlooker. Every conceivable kind of rocket and shell and cloud of stars was in turn exhibited. There were rockets which exploded at an enormous height and emitted
