rought
nosegays, so that the saloon was turned for that day into a perfect
garden.

We breakfasted comfortably in the train; but later the sun began to
blaze down so fiercely upon us, that I fear our two invalids must have
found the heat and the shaking of the carriages rather trying. We
reached Wadi at three o'clock, and Hingoli about seven in the
evening--very tired. This is the junction for Bijapur, one of the most
ancient cities of India, and once the capital of the Deccan. Its walls
are of immense extent, and it is guarded by a fort six miles in
circumference. In fact, what is now called the city is only the ruins
of that portion of it which used to be enclosed within the fort. The
mosques and tombs are of great interest, and I am sorry there was not
time to visit them. The mosque and tomb of Ibrahim Rozah are said to
be unsurpassed by anything of the kind in India. They are, however,
carefully described by Mr. Fergusson in his 'History of Architecture;'
and he also gives full details about the many fine ruins of Bijapur,
including the Gol Gumbaz, or Round Dome--a mausoleum built in honour
of Sultan Muhammad VII.--the Cathedral Mosque, and the Ark, or
Citadel.

[Illustration: No Coal]

On Monday, February 14th, at 5 A.M., we reached Poonah, the capital of
the Mahratta country, 120 miles distant from Bombay. Here we were
shunted into a siding, where Dr. Hoffmeister soon joined us, bringing
good news of all on board the 'Sunbeam,' which had had a splendid
passage of fifty-two hours down from Kurrachee to Bombay, making the
shortest run on record entirely under sail. He also eased our minds by
his favourable opinion of our invalids, though his examination could
be but superficial.

Mr. Crawford, the Commissioner, appeared about eight o'clock, with
several carriages, and kindly insisted upon our spending the day at
his house, which, I need scarcely say, was a very pleasant plan. He
first took us for a drive round the city to the Government House,
called Ganesh Khind, where the Governor of Bombay lives for several
months in the year. It was delicious to stroll about the charming
grounds, but it was equally pleasant to return to breakfast at the
Commissioner's bungalow, which stands on the banks of the Mula River.
Mr. Crawford is a great horticulturist, and has surrounded his
dwelling with a beautiful garden, filled with a profusion of all sorts
of acclimatised plants, flowers, trees, and fruits. The crotons,
drac