maintained them in that condition. One can only wish that for completeness' sake a glass copy of the Peacock Throne might be installed in the original's place. Tourists would gladly contribute their annas to that worthy end.
The Jama Masjid, the largest and certainly the most imposing mosque in India, lifts its minarets across a great park where troops of great apes race madly, alert for the pious Hindus, whom one often sees ostentatiously feeding them inferior boiled rice, "to acquire merit." The great gateway of the mosque, high on a terraced platform, is second only to Akbar's Gate of Victory, and, opening formerly only for the Mogul emperor, swings widely now when the Viceroy visits it. On Friday mornings ten and twelve thousand people worship there; in festival times four times as many assemble. The priests are friendly, and in one of the lesser minarets show one richly illuminated copies of the Koran, Mohammed's slipper filled with jasmine blossoms, and finally one henna-red hair from the beard of the Prophet. There is a busy market around the steps of the great gateway on certain days, when grotesque two-story camel-wagons bring in country produce; dealers in poultry hold one side of the terrace steps and bird-fanciers the other. We had eaten mutton-chops from Tuticorin northward, but had never seen a live sheep until we heard its familiar voice by Jama Masjid's steps. But what flocks of goats we had seen in pastures, on country roads and city streets! "It is poultry," said the bearer as we regarded the fat-tailed sheep with curiosity, his application of
