er were
finely carved windows, covered in all directions with devices in the same
precious metal.

Four sculptured lions guarded the double flight of steps, while at the
bottom of the principal flight was a large figure of a kneeling bull
(nanda), executed in copper, and superbly gilt. The rest of the court-
yard was filled with images and shrines of various descriptions; a
kneeling figure of Siva, a huge bell, more lions, and other sacred
objects being studded throughout it in odd confusion. After looking at
the varied and somewhat brilliant objects about us, our attention was
directed to the roof of the temple, and certainly the transition from the
sublime to the ridiculous was extraordinary. Pots, pans, old kukris,
dusty-looking musical instruments, goods and chattels of all
descriptions, such as one might imagine would form the contents of a
Nepaulese pawnbroker's shop, if there is any such establishment here,
were wedged together indiscriminately beneath the projecting roof of the
pagoda, for of that Chinese form was this much venerated _Hindoo_ temple.
This mass of incongruous wares, as far as I could learn, was composed of
the unclaimed goods of pious worshippers, persons dying without known
heirs, and certainly, to judge from their appearance, the heirs did not
lose much by not establishing their claims.

We ascended the hill, immediately under which the temple is situated, and
were charmed with the lovely prospect which it commanded. On the left,
and clothing with its brilliant colours a gentle slope, was the grove
sacred to Siva, divided by the equally sacred Bhagmutty from the temple
we had just visited, and into which we now looked down. The Bhagmutty
was crossed by two narrow Chinese-looking bridges, resembling those we
have such frequent opportunities of admiring on the willow-pattern
plates. It is at this sacred spot that devout Hindoos wish to die with
their feet in the water. Here it is that the bodies of the great are
burnt; Martibar Singh was reduced to ashes at the end of the bridge, and
so was the Ranee not three months before my visit, together with two
favourite female slaves, whose society she did not wish to relinquish.

Beyond this interesting foreground stretched the luxuriant valley, its
gentle slopes and eminences terraced to their summits, which were often
crowned by some old fortified Newar town: the terraces, tinged with the
brilliant green of the young crops, rose one above anot