The entire piece was recited in metrical verse of
.strongly accentuated rhythm. I never listened to
anything more monotonous, especially not understanding
the language, for holding the translation in my
hand was but a poor substitute. All the actors wore
masks, or had their dark faces painted ghastly white,
not unlike the clowns in our pantomime. The horses
brought on the stage in gaudy tinsel trappings seemed
to create a great deal more amusement amongst the
audience than all the niceties and beauty of Persian
verse.
I t was a fearfully hot day on which I started, soon after
noon, from the Byculla station for Ellora—I had better
•confess it at once—to see more religious monuments,
bearing, however, quite a different character to those
I have already described, for these at Ellora are rock-cut
temples, hewn out of the side of the hill, and completely
severed from their mother earth, excepting at their
base, being in fact enormous monoliths, whilst those of
Elephanta and Karlee are essentially cave temples
cut into the hill. But I ’ll begin by stating how I got
to my destination.
Some nine hours’ rail brought me to Nandgaum
station, where I passed part of the night at the dak
bungalow, or travellers’ rest-house, erected by the
Government; and having taken the precaution of
engaging a servant before leaving Bombay to accompany
me as far as Calcutta, I managed to make myself
tolerably comfortable wherever I went. An Indian
“ boy ” is an excellent institution; he sees to everything,
and is generally a good cook into the bargain.
I could never understand where he got the necessary
■culinary utensils or bed and table linen from, since a
■cane-bottomed bedstead, a table, a couple of chairs,
and a tub is all the furniture the bungalow provides,
and often not even th a t ; still by the time I had had my
bath and changed my clothes, he was always prepared
to serve up something hot to refresh the inner man,
generally placed appetisingly on a clean cloth.
Soon after midnight I started again on a very
tedious journey, this time on a mail tonga, a sort of
rickety gig on rusty springs, jolting along a fair road
in the- direction of Aurangabad at the rate of fully
eight miles an hour, when the ground was level.
We passed the villages Taroda and Deogaon, both
having a neglected appearance ; but at the latter I
managed to get a cup of coffee, which was most welcome,
as the night was very cool. At last we turned
■aside for Ellora, after having exchanged the tonga,
which continued its route along the high road, for a
common springless cart on two wheels, covered with