dstone lie rooms set apart for Viceroys, Durbar Halls and
dinner-rooms without end. A gentle gloom covers the evidences of the
catholic taste of the State in articles of "bigotry and virtue"; but
there is enough light to show the _raison d'etre_ of the men who wait in
the dak-bungalow. And, after all, what is the use of Royalty in these
days if a man may not take delight in the pride of the eye? Kumbha Rana,
the great man of Chitor, fought like a Rajput, but he had an instinct
which made him build the Tower of Victory at, who knows what cost of
money and life. The fighting-instinct thrown back upon itself must have
some sort of outlet; and a merciful Providence wisely ordains that the
Kings of the East in the nineteenth century shall take pleasure in
shopping on an imperial scale. Dresden China snuff-boxes, mechanical
engines, electro-plated fish-slicers, musical boxes, and gilt
blown-glass Christmas-tree balls do not go well with the splendours of a
Palace that might have been built by Titans and coloured by the morning
sun. But there are excuses to be made for Kings who have no fighting to
do.

In one of the higher bastions stands a curious specimen of one of the
earliest _mitrailleuses_--a cumbrous machine carrying twenty gun-barrels
in two rows, which small-arm fire is flanked by two tiny cannon. As a
muzzle-loading implement its value after the first discharge would be
insignificant; but the soldiers lounging by assured the Englishman that
it had done good service in its time.

A man may spend a long hour in the upper tiers of the Palaces, but still
far from the roof-tops, in looking out across the desert. There are
Englishmen in these wastes, who say gravely that there is nothing so
fascinating as the sand of Bikanir and Marwar. "You see," explained an
enthusiast of the Hat-marked Caste, "you are not shut in by roads, and
you can go just as you please. And, somehow, it grows upon you as you
get used to it, and you end, y'know, by falling in love with the place."
Look steadily from the Palace westward where the city with its tanks and
serais is spread at your feet, and you will, in a lame way, begin to
understand the fascination of the Desert which, by those who have felt
it, is said to be even stronger than the fascination of the Road. The
city is of red sandstone and dull and sombre to look at. Beyond it,
where the white sand lies, the country is dotted with camels limping
into the Eiwigkeit or coming from the s