Garden. It is such an orderly wilderness of rich vegetation as could only be had in Asia, broad flags of banana belting the dark tangle of banyan and bamboo, with the white pavements gleaming crosswise through the verdure. Yet if the Taj rose amid the sands of a dreary desert, the lovely edifice would beautify the waste, and turn it into a tender parable of the desolation of death, and the power of love, which is stronger than death. You pace round the four sides of the milk-white monument, pausing to observe the glorious prospect over the Indian plains, commanded from the platform on that face where Jumna washes the foot of the wall. Its magnitude now astounds. The plinth of the Taj is over one hundred yards each way, and it lifts its golden pinnacle two hundred and forty-four feet into the sky. From a distance this lovely and aerial dome sits, therefore, above the horizon like a rounded cloud. And having paced about it, and saturated the mind with its extreme and irresistible loveliness, you enter reverently the burial-place of the Princess Arjumund, to find the inner walls of the monument as much a marvel of subtle shadow and chastened light, decked with delicate jewellery, as the exterior was noble and simple. On the pure surface of this Hall of Death, and upon the columns, panels, and trellis-work of the marble screens surrounding the tomb, are patiently inlaid all sorts of graceful and elaborate embellishments-flowers, leaves, berries, scrolls, and sentences-in jasper, coral, blood-stone, lapis-lazuli, nacre, onyx, turquoise, sardonyx, and even precious gems.

This exquisite Abode of Death is haunted by spirits as delicate as their dwelling. They will not answer to rude noises, but if a woman's voice be gently raised in notes of hymn or song, if a chord is quietly sounded, echoes in the marble vault take up the music, diversify and amplify it with strange combinations of melodious sounds, slowly dying away, and re-arising, as if Israfil, "who has the sweetest voice of all Allah's angels," had set a guard of his best celestial minstrels to watch the death-couch of Arjamund. For, under the

beautiful screens and the carved trellis-work of alabaster is the real resting-place of the "Exalted One of the Palace." She has the centre of the circular area, marked by a little

slab of snow-white marble; while by her side-a span loftier in height, because he was a man and emperor, but not displacing her from the pre-eminence of her grace and beautyis the stone which marks the resting-spot of Shah-Jehan, her lord and lover. He has immortalized-if he could not preserve alive for one brief day-his peerless wife; yet the pathetic moral of it all is written in a verse hereabouts from the Hudees, or "traditions." It runs after reciting the styles and titles of "His Majesty, King of Kings, Shadow of Allah, whose Court is as Heaven:"-"Saith Jesus (on whom be peace), This world is a bridge! pass thou over it, but build not upon it! This world is one hour; give its minutes to thy prayers; for the rest is unseen."-SIR EDWIN ARNOLD.

ROBERT LORD CLIVE was, by the verdict of history, the founder of the British empire in India. But he was not only a conqueror but a great statesman, and organizer of society. Yet he was of humble origin, born at Styche, a small estate near Market Drayton, in Shropshire, September 29, 1725. He was a son of Richard Clive, a lawyer and small proprietor. Robert, the oldest son, neglected his studies at school, and manifested a strong propensity to mischief. Pugnacious as a boy, he had throughout life an imperious temper. In 1743 this fighting lad, born with the instincts of a soldier, was appointed a writer in the service of the East India Company, then merely a trading corporation owning but a few acres in India.

Clive arrived at Madras near the end of 1744. His health was soon impaired by the oppressive climate, which was unmitigated by any of the modern devices used by European residents. His early letters to his relatives were despondent in tone, and he even attempted to kill himself; but his pistol missed fire. The surrender of Madras to the French, by whom he was taken a prisoner, was the turning point in

Clive's career. He disguised himself and fled to Fort St. David. He then resolved to follow his native genius and entered the army, obtaining a commission as ensign in 1747. Having served with distinction at the siege of Pondicherry, he was promoted to the rank of captain in 1751.

The French Governor Dupleix had, by a series of victories, made himself master of the Carnatic, and was the greatest potentate in India. In consequence of the bold actions of Dupleix, the position of the English was critical and almost desperate. This crisis was Clive's opportunity. In 1751, with a band of 500 men, he captured Arcot, the capital of the Carnatic, and defended it with success in a siege of seven weeks against 10,000 men. The defense of Arcot gave Captain Clive a European reputation, and produced an immense effect on the awe-stricken Hindoos. Victories at Arni and Caveripak enhanced his reputation. He sometimes carried audacity beyond the verge of rashness and had many narrow escapes. "Had the entire direction of the war been intrusted to Clive," says Macaulay, "it would probably have been brought to a speedy close, but the timidity and incapacity which appeared in all the movements of the English, except when he was personally present, protracted the struggle." The Carnatic was the only part of the world where the English and French were then fighting against each other.

In February, 1753, Clive married Margaret Maskelyne, a sister of the astronomer-royal, and returned to England for his health, which was completely broken. In England he led a life of luxurious and wanton extravagance, and showed himself the proverbial Indian nabob. His dress, his liveries, his carriage and horses were brilliant and costly, and he soon dissipated his fortune. In 1754 he was elected a member of Parliament by the Whigs; but his election was contested, and he was unseated. He could no longer look forward to a political career in England, and he applied to the India Company for employment. The directors appointed him Governor of Fort St. David, and the king having given him a commission of a lieutenant-colonel in the British army, he returned to India in 1755.

In 1756 Surajah Dowlah, the sensual nabob of Bengal,

captured the English garrison of Fort William, 146 in number. The whole number were thrust into the "Black Hole" of Calcutta. This infamous place was a small, dark room, which had been used by the English for the occasional confinement of refractory prisoners. But it could hardly contain the number then driven into it. No less than 123 died in the first night, while the guard looked on with indifference, because they dared not disturb the slumbers of the Nabob. The English government at Madras, having determined to avenge this outrage, appointed Clive commander-in-chief in Bengal. With an army of 2,400 men he arrived in Bengal in December, 1756, routed the garrison of Fort William, recovered Calcutta and took Hoogley by storm. Surajah sued for peace, and the English made a treaty with him. The treaty was no sooner concluded than he formed new designs against the English. Several powerful subjects of the Nabob conspired against him, and Clive co-operated with them. In these transactions with crafty and perfidious Hindoos, Clive practiced equal fraud and dissimulation, which were indefensible, even against dishonorable foes. "He descended without scruple," says Macaulay, "to falsehood, to hypocritical caresses, to the substitution of documents, and to the counterfeiting of hands." On the 23d of June, 1757, the fate of India was decided by the battle of Plassey, where Clive with 3,200 men defeated Surajah, who had about 40,000 infantry and 15,000 cavalry. The army of the Nabob was quickly and completely routed, but only five hundred of his men were killed. Surajah was soon captured and put to death by Meer Jaffier, who succeeded him as Nabob. The new ruler gave Clive a present of twenty lacs of rupees, about a million dollars.

The directors, on receiving news of Colonel Clive's success, instantly appointed him governor of their possessions in Bengal. "His power," says Macaulay, "was now boundless, and far surpassed even that which Dupleix had attained in the south of India." In November, 1758, Meer Jaffier made secret overtures to the Dutch to bring such a force into Bengal as would counterbalance the power of the English. The Dutch authorities of Batavia equipped a powerful armament, and in October, 1759, seven Dutch ships with an army of