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little offering of cakes and fruit； the produce of the place。 One evening a man so approached； stately in white robes and turban； attended by a little lad who carried the patriarchal gift beside him。 Our tents were pitched under a glorious walnut tree with a run… ning stream at our feet。
Vanna of course； was the interpreter； and I called her from her tent as the man stood salaaming before me。 It was strange that when she came； dressed in white； he stopped in his salutation； and gazed at her in what； I thought； was silent wonder。
She spoke earnestly to him； standing before him with clasped hands； almost； I could think； in the attitude of a suppliant。 The man listened gravely； with only an interjection； now and again； and once he turned and looked curiously at me。 Then he spoke； evidently making some announcement which she received with bowed head … and when he turned to go with a grave salute； she performed a very singular ceremony； moving slowly round him three times with clasped hands； keeping him always on the right。 He repaid it with the usual salaam and greeting of peace； which he bestowed also on me； and then departed in deep meditation； his eyes fixed on the ground。 I ventured to ask what it all meant； and she looked thoughtfully at me before replying。
〃It was a strange thing。 I fear you will not altogether understand； but I will tell you what I can。 That man though living here among Mahomedans； is a Brahman from Benares； and； what is very rare in India； a Buddhist。 And when he saw me he believed he remembered me in a former birth。 The ceremony you saw me perform is one of honour in India。 It was his due。〃
〃Did you remember him？〃 I knew my voice was incredulous。
〃Very well。 He has changed little but is further on the upward path。 I saw him with dread for he holds the memory of a great wrong I did。 Yet he told me a thing that has filled my heart with joy。〃
〃Vanna…what is it？〃
She had a clear uplifted look which startled me。 There was suddenly a chill air blowing between us。
〃I must not tell you yet but you will know soon。 He was a good man。 I am glad we have met。〃
She buried herself in writing in a small book I had noticed and longed to look into； and no more was said。
We struck camp next day and trekked on towards Vernag … a rough march； but one of great beauty； beneath the shade of forest trees； garlanded with pale roses that climbed from bough to bough and tossed triumphant wreaths into the uppermost blue。
In the afternoon thunder was flapping its wings far off in the mountains and a little rain fell while we were lunching under a big tree。 I was considering anxiously how to shelter Vanna； when a farmer invited us to his house … a scene of Biblical hospitality that delighted us both。 He led us up some break…neck little stairs to a large bare room； open to the clean air all round the roof； and with a kind of rough enclosure on the wooden floor where the family slept at night。 There he opened our basket； and then； with anxious care； hung clothes and rough draperies about us that our meal might be unwatched by one or two friends who had followed us in with breathless interest。 Still further to entertain us a great rarity was brought out and laid at Vanna's feet as something we might like to watch … a curious bird in a cage； with brightly barred wings and a singular cry。 She fed it with fruit； and it fluttered to her hand。 Just so Abraham might have welcomed his guests； and when we left with words of deepest gratitude； our host made the beautiful obeisance of touching his forehead with joined hands as he bowed。 To me the whole incident had an extraordinary grace； and ennobled both host and guest。 But we met an ascending scale of loveliness so varied in its aspects that I passed from one emotion to another and knew no sameness。
That afternoon the camp was pitched at the foot of a mighty hill； under the waving pyramids of the chenars； sweeping their green like the robes of a goddess。 Near by was a half circle of low arches falling into ruin； and as we went in among them I beheld a wondrous sight … the huge octagonal tank or basin made by the Mogul Emperor Jehangir to receive the waters of a mighty Spring which wells from the hill and has been held sacred by Hindu and Moslem。 And if loveliness can sanctify surely it is sacred indeed。
The tank was more than a hundred feet in diameter and circled by a roughly paved pathway where the little arched cells open that the devotees may sit and contemplate the lustral waters。 There on a black stone； is sculptured the Imperial inscription comparing this spring to the holier wells of Paradise； and I thought no less of it； for it rushes straight from the rock with no aiding stream； and its waters are fifty feet deep； and sweep away from this great basin through beautiful low arches in a wild foaming river … the crystal life…blood of the mountains for ever welling away。 The colour and perfect purity of this living jewel were most marvellous …clear blue…green like a chalcedony； but changing as the lights in an opal … a wonderful quivering brilliance； flickering with the silver of shoals of sacred fish。
But the Mogul Empire is with the snows of yesteryear and the wonder has passed from the Moslems into the keeping of the Hindus once more； and the Lingam of Shiva； crowned with flowers； is the symbol in the little shrine by the entrance。 Surely in India； the gods are one and have no jealousies among them … so swiftly do their glories merge the one into the other。
〃How all the Mogul Emperors loved running water；〃 said Vanna。 〃I can see them leaning over it in their carved pavilions with delicate dark faces and pensive eyes beneath their turbans； lost in the endless reverie of the East while liquid melody passes into their dream。 It was the music they best loved。〃
She was leading me into the royal garden below； where the young river flows beneath the pavilion set above and across the rush of the water。
〃I remember before I came to India；〃 she went on； 〃there were certain words and phrases that meant the whole East to me。 It was an enchantment。 The。 first flash picture I had was Milton's…
'Dark faces with white silken turbans wreathed。'
and it still is。 I have thought ever since that every man should wear a turban。 It dignifies the un…comeliest and it is quite curious to see how many inches a man descends in the scale of beauty the moment he takes it off and you see only the skull…cap about which they wind it。 They wind it with wonderful skill too。 I have seen a man take eighteen yards of muslin and throw it round his head with a few turns； and in five or six minutes the beautiful folds were all in order and he looked like a king。 Some of the Gujars here wear black ones and they are very effective and worth painting … the black folds and the sullen tempestuous black brows underneath。〃
We sat in the pavilion for awhile looking down on the rushing water； and she spoke of Akbar； the greatest of the Moguls； and spoke with a curious personal touch； as I thought。
〃I wish you would try to write a story of him … one on more human lines than has been done yet。 No one has accounted for the passionate quest of truth that was the real secret of h