the white eyeballs of straining horses. Phew ! The dust turned the hair a dingy white, and caked in nostrils and throat. Will it be like this on Durbar Day? And what will become of the ladies' dresses? Anyway, let us get out of it. I turned into the fields. More ruins. Some one seemed to have been reproducing the Coliseum in miniature across the plain. On drawing near, it was realized that these two round buildings with tiers of arches must be the remains of the famous Observatory of Raja Jai Singh of Jeypore. Hard by was a huge sundial in brick, perhaps fifty feet high, with steps leading to the apex. I climbed to the top, and gazed towards Delhi. It was clearer now, but there seemed to be an uncommon amount of dust rising along the road as far as one could see. Presently, through the trees that lined the road, the head of a great cavalry column was discernible. I had struck another Army.
There was not much chance of getting back to Delhi after that. This was the First Division of the Northern Army, so a stray officer of the Guides Cavalry said. The rear of the column was miles behind. When a Division marches, it wants the whole road. No one would seek to dispute possession with it in any case, for it is no joke to travel amid the dust of an army. First came a cavalry brigade, mostly native cavalry. To see the native cavalryman at his best you want to look at him off the parade ground. These men were riding with the alert, careless ease of the born trooper. Light,
