rse from Longfellow's
"Psalm of Life" was repeated in a low tone of voice. Instantly there
rolled through the dimly-lighted vault above a soft and solemn
repetition, which sounded as though voices were repeating the psalm in
the skies, with such music and pathos as to dim our eyes with tears. The
delicate echo beneath the dome of the Taj, just above where sleep the
royal ashes, is one of its most remarkable and thrilling mysteries.

This superb exposition of architectural perfection was visited first in
the glow of sunrise, again in the golden haze of sunset, and once under
the fiery blaze of midday. It is only beneath an intensely blue sky that
one can realize the full and exquisite effect of pure white marble.
Nothing finer or more lovely in architecture exists than this faultless
monument, this ideal of Saracenic art, in all its rich harmony, erected
by an Indian emperor to the memory of his favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal,
which signifies the "Chosen of the Palace." The Taj leaves an undying
impression of beauty on all beholders, and certainly in this instance
beauty outvalues utility. Shakespeare might well have written of sermons
in stones had he seen the Taj. The marble and red sandstone came from
Rajpootana, the diamonds and jaspers from the Punjab, the carnelians and
agates from Tibet, the corals from Arabia, the sapphires and other
precious stones from Ceylon, and the genius that combined them all came
from Heaven. Madame de Stael never saw this gem of India, and yet she
said that architecture was frozen music. Emerson would have called it a
blossoming in stone.

The Palace of Akbar is within the famous fort of Agra, a couple of miles
from the Taj, the other side of the Jumna, a structure of such magnitude
as to form almost a city within itself, measuring two miles around its
walls. Those walls, over fifty feet in height, are of red sandstone,
with towers at intervals, and a deep moat. It is situated on the banks
of the river, with which its vaults have an underground communication.
We were shown one dark and gloomy cellar far below the level of the
fort, known as the execution room, where the criminals, condemned in
the Judgment Hall above, received their punishment. The headsman's block
was still there, and certain dark stains were pointed out to us by means
of the candle carried by the guide, which told their own story. In the
centre of this dreary vault was a well whose water was level with the
river, into wh