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on earth. To Shah Jehan's strong paternal affection we are indebted for our first settlement in Hindoostan; he gave a grant of land in Bengal to an English physician travelling through Agra, as a token of his gratitude for the restoration of one of his daughters, whose malady was subdued by the stranger's skill and attention.

In wandering over the princely gardens of the Taaje Mahal, the monarch's virtues alone can be remembered, and it is with feelings of no common gratification, that those who are not wholly engrossed by passing objects, add a flower to the fresh coronals daily strewed upon the monarch's grave. The natives of Agra are justly proud of the Taaje Mahal; they are pleased with the admiration manifested by strangers, and gratified by the care and attention bestowed to keep it in repair: upon Sunday evenings especially, crowds of Moosulmans of all descriptions, rich and poor, visit the. gardens, and contribute not a little, by their picturesque groupes, to the attraction of the scene.

At the distance of about a mile from the "palace-tomb," for that is the signification of its name, stands the fort of Agra, a place of great strength in former times, before the introduction of firearms. One side is defended by the river, the others are surrounded by high battlemented walls of red stone, furnished with turrets and loop-holes, and in addition to several postern entrances, a most magnificent building, called the Delhi-gate. Perhaps Lord Byron himself, when he stood upon the Bridge of Sighs, his heart swelling with reminiscences of Othello, Shylock, and Pierre, scarcely experienced more overwhelming sensations than the humble writer of this paper, when gazing, for the first time, upon the golden crescent of the Moslems, blazing high in the fair blue heavens, from the topmost pinnacle of this splendid relique of their power and pride. The delights of my childhood rushed to my soul; those magic tales, from which, rather than from the veritable pages of history, I had gathered my knowledge of eastern arts and arms, arose in all their original vividness. I felt that I was indeed in the land of genii, and that the gorgeous palaces, the flowery labyrinths, the orient gems, and glittering thrones, so long classed with ideal splendors, were not the fictitious offspring of romance. Europe does not possess a more interesting relique of the days of feudal glory, than that afforded by the fort of Agra. The interior presents a succession of inclined planes, so constructed (the stones with which they are paved being cut into grooves), that horses, and even carriages may pass up and down. The illustrations of fortified places, in Froissart's Chronicle, offer an accurate representation of these ascents, where knights on horseback are depicted riding down a steep hill, while descending from the walls.

The fort is of very considerable extent, and contains many objects of interest and curiosity. The Mootee Musjid, or pearl mosque, disputes the palm of beauty with the Taaje Mahal, and is by many persons preferred to that celebrated edifice. Neither drawing nor description can do it justice, for the purity of the ma

terial and the splendor of the architecture defy the powers of the pencil and the pen. An oblong hall stretches its arcades along one side of a noble quadrangle, surrounded by richly sculptured cloisters, whence at intervals spring light and elegant cupolas, supported upon slender pillars. The whole is of polished white marble, carved even to the very slabs that compose the pavement, and when moonlight irradiates the scene, the effect is magical.

Acbar was the first of the Moghul emperors who, preferring Agra as a residence to its neighbour Delhi, embellished and beautified the city; his name, as the "mighty lord," is of course held in great reverence by the inhabitants, and his tomb, a gorgeous pyramidical structure, at about five miles, distance, is scarcely less an object of admiration than the Taaje. The durbar, or hall of audience, a magnificent apartment, is converted into an arsenal; but the marble palace remains nearly in the same state in which it was left by the Jauts, when the city was taken by Lord Lake. After the beautiful buildings already mentioned, this palace, though very rich and splendid, has comparatively little to recommend it. If, however, wanting in the external attractions of its prouder rivals, it is not less interesting on account of the recollections attached to it, having been the residence of some of the most celebrated conquerors of the East. It is pleasantly situated upon the banks of the Jumna, which its balconied chambers overlook. The hall, formerly ceiled with silver, is still a fine apartment, but the smaller suites of rooms, being more singular, are more interesting to a stranger. These are mostly of an octagonal form, leading out of each other, or connected by a smaller antechamber; they are composed of white marble, the walls, floors, and roofs being all of the same material, the former decorated with mosaics of flowers rudely executed in many-colored agates and cornelians. The windows open upon narrow balconies, having very low parapet walls, which overhang the Jumna: the bosom of the river is gay with boats, and the opposite bank finely planted, and adorned with bright pavilions glancing from between the trees, or raised upon some jutting point of land. From these suites, flights of marble stairs lead to the roof, which is flat, and commands a still nobler view. The plan of the palace is very curious as seen from this elevation; with the exception of the range of buildings fronting the river, it is laid out in small quadrangles, each with its garden or its bath in the centre. One of these, destined for a retreat during the hot winds, is particularly curious. It contains a square apartment of tolerable dimensions, unprovided with windows. The walls are lined with. fantastic ornaments of spar, silver, and other glittering materials, intermixed with small oddly-shaped pieces of looking-glass; the pavement is cut into channels, for the purpose of allowing a perpetual flow of running water in the hot season. Here the emperors

were wont to retire during the most sultry hours, substituting the glare of torches for the light of day, and admiring, doubtless, the barbaric splendor with which they were surrounded.

The palace of Agra has been frequently irradiated by the presence of the "Light of the Harem," the beautiful Nourmahal, one incident in whose eventful life has been immortalized by the pen of Mr. Moore. The marvellous adventures of her history might fill a volume. Shere Afkun, the husband who stood between her and a throne, was one of the paladins of Eastern chivalry, and the deeds imputed to him, by authentic records, are only to be paralleled in the pages of romance: he seems to have formed his character after that of Rustum Khan, or some other poetical hero equally celebrated. He is said to have rushed unarmed upon a lion, and quelled the monster single-handed; and when, after a hundred victories in perilous adventures, in which his cruel master involved him, for the purpose of procuring his death, in the last struggle with twelve assassins, he yielded rather to the determined hatred of the king than to the weapons of his murderers; throwing away a life embittered by ingratitude. Nourmahal, by her intrigues for her children's elevation, her caprice, and her revenge, endangered the sceptre of her imperial husband a thousand times, yet maintained her ascendency over him to the last. Once he was wrought upon, by the representations of a faithful friend, to consent to her death, but could not refuse a farewell interview: the consequences were such as had been predicted; she regained her influence, and the realm was again distracted by civil dissension. Highly accomplished, according to the fashion of her country and the age in which she flourished, Nourmahal was indeed the light of the harem'; her inexhaustible fancy devised new schemes of pleasure for each day and hour, and in her seductive society a luxurious monarch forgot his duties as well as his cares. Nourmahal can make no pretensions to excellence as a wife, for if not consenting to the persecution of her first husband, she tacitly sanctioned his rival's pretensions; while to her second she brought discord and ruin; but as a parent and a child she seems to have acted in an exemplary manner.

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On the opposite bank of the Jumna, near the stately gardens of the Rambaugh, said to have been originally planted and laid out by Jehanghire, stands one of the most beautiful specimens of oriental architecture which India can boast, the tomb of Utta ma Dowlah, the beloved father of the empress Nourmahal. Anxious to ensure its durability, she proposed to erect this monument of silver, as a less perishable material than stone; but some judicious friend assured her that marble would not be so liable to demolition, and accordingly, time alone has injured a building which the Jauts were not tempted to plunder. It is lamentable that the British Government should have limited its expenditure to the repairs of the Taaje Mahal, and that this gem of art should be suffered, for want of the necessary repairs, to fall into decay; its surrounding garden a wilderness, destitute of fences, and the exquisite monument left to a few poor natives, who lament over the neglect sustained by the great lord, once the pride and glory of the East.

The care of the dead forms a beautiful trait in the Moosulmaun character. Kingdoms have passed away, and dynasties failed, and while nothing of the magnificence of the silent tenants of the tomb is left save the name, their graves are still honored and respected, and flowers are strewed over them, and lamps are burned, by those who have long submitted to foreign dominion. Utta ma Dowlah's tomb is one of the most attractive spots in the immediate neighbourhood of Agra. It is within the compass of a morning or evening drive, and the gardens of the Rambaugh, in its close vicinity, are as splendid as those we read of in the Arabian tales. From the roof of this monument one of those views is obtained, which once seen can never be forgotten. The blue waters of the Jumna wind through a rich champaign country, with gardens stretching down on either side to its rippling current; opposite, the city of Agra, with its bastioned fort, its marble palace, splendid cupolas, and broad ghauts, intermixed with trees, stands in all the pomp of eastern architecture; below, in silvery pride, the lustrous Taaje Mahal is seen; and far as the eye can reach, country houses, decorated with light pavilions springing close to the margin of the streams, diversify the landscape.

The tomb of Acbar, like that of Utta ma Dowlah, is falling into a state of dilapidation. It is of a character admirably suited to the splendid barbarian to whom it is dedicated, and is more difficult to describe than the Taaje Mahal, to which, however, it does not bear the slightest resemblance. Superb colonnades of white marble sweep on either side a gigantic pyramid of red stone. Below, in a dark vault, illumined only by a single lamp, lies the body of Acbar, but each of many stories arising above contains his sarcophagus, placed over the spot where his remains are interred; and the lofty building terminates in a square roofless chamber of white marble, whose walls are perforated in exquisite patterns, and which enclose the last and the most beautiful of the marble coffins. Narrow flights of stairs lead to a terraced platform surrounding low corridors, and decorated at the angles with open cupolas faced with blue enamel and gold; a second flight leads to another platform of smaller dimensions, similarly embellished, and a third and a fourth story succeed. The view from each is magnificent, and the design, though certainly grotesque, is rendered majestic by the air of grandeur imparted by the immense size of the building. At Futtehpore Secri, and at Deeg, distant a few marches from the city of Agra, are equally splendid remains of Moslem glory. Bhurtpore also, the strong-hold of the Jauts, and Gwalior, a fort supposed to be impregnable until stormed and taken by a young British officer, the residence of Scindia, are within an easy journey, together with Muttra and Bindrabund, the seats of Hindoo superstition, which possess several extremely curious and ancient temples. The profusion of marble, with which Agra abounds, has been brought from Oodipore, and the adjoining district of Bundelkhund has furnished its more precious stones.

[From "The New Monthly Magazine," No. 147.]

EARL FITZWILLIAM AND ALDERMAN WAITHMAN.

[In the second part of this journal there is a notice of Earl Fitzwilliam, occasioned by his recent death. Alderman Waithman, whose name has long been familiar to those acquainted with English politics, died February 6, 1833. The peculiar spelling of the word Alderman in the following notice of both, is intended to remind the reader that Alderman (Saxonicè Ealderman or Ealdorman) was in Saxon times a title of high dignity and office, equivalent to that of Earl at the present day. We doubt, however, whether there be any authority for the spelling, Eorlderman.]

EARL FITZWILLIAM AND EORLDERMAN WAITHMAN. The prince and the shopkeeper: what a difference there was a month ago between these two men each eminent in his way - and now the distinction is but small! If it were desired to pick out of all known men of the last age the two individuals who had run a kind of parallel career of distinction, and were yet the most contrasted, where could better names be hit upon than those of the two who are just now deposited several feet below the bustle of humanity? The distance established in an old society like ours between individual and individual is enormous; nature is altogether controlled, and artificial distinctions are set up of a force stronger even than nature. Had these two men been put together in a republic, Waithman would have been the tyrant of his tribe, and Fitzwilliam would never have moved from the respectability of a steady and amiable citizen. Had they been born under some old monarchy, such as that of Louis XIV., Fitzwilliam, by the force of his rank and birth, would have shone a court star, and might at any one moment have had Waithman bastiled or bastinadoed for a look of impertinence. England is the juste milieu: we give each the opportunity of a distinguished career, and yet in all things personal hold them as far as the poles asunder. Publicly, that is to say in controlling the tide of events, there is no doubt that Waithman has played even a more important part than the distinguished nobleman; and yet how high in society the Yorkshire prince has always stood over the Fleet-Street shopkeeper!

How tenderly was the now dead earl nurtured! - what tutors awaited his opening intellect, what grooms, what masters, what doctors watched the developement of his limbs what youthful pleasures were laid at his feet what a succession was promised!-how he travelled!-into what capitals he was ushered! - and then he reigned as viceroy over a kingdom became beloved was suddenly recalled, and the nation went into mourning! on the day of his sailing out of the bay of Dublin all the bells of Ireland were muffled it was a national funeral, and they buried their best hopes. He then came home to his Yorkshire palace; to his wide domains; his stud which kings might envy;

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