This first sketch of the Mughal Paradise Garden will, I fear, make but a limited appeal to English readers, as a recollection of one of my earliest Indian experiences vividly but vainly reminds me: - On a long railway journey northward, the tedium of which had been pleasantly beguiled by a fellow-passenger's wide knowledge of the history of the country through which we were passing, the train, after thundering over a broad sandy river-bed, rushed past some buildings buried in a wood; leaving a blurred, but entrancing vision of red enclosing walls, high tiled gateways, and slender marble minarets, rising through the densely clustering palms and forest trees of a great garden. What is that? I exclaimed with delight, pressing my face to the darkened sun-proof window-pane. But here my kindly informant altogether failed me.
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