澶ч�欒晧 澶╁ぉ鎷嶅�滃�滅埍_澶ч�欒晧 鏃ユ棩 涔呰崏_澶ч�欒晧 鑷�鎷� 瑙嗛�� 鏃ユ棩_澶ч�欒晧澶滃�滃共

THREE:In the heart of Girgaum, one of the suburbs of Bombay, at the end of a street, under a large areca palm an old man was selling grain and rice in open baskets. A whole flight of bickering sparrows settled on his merchandise, and he looked at them with happy good humour without scaring them away.Legends have gathered round the Taj Mahal as about every old building in India, and this one seems to me not impossible in its barbarity.

THREE:

THREE:In front of a statue of Kali with a hundred arms, surrounded by rough votive offerings carved in wood, most of them representing legs, a man was pouring out rice, and a whole flight of grey leilas—birds like magpies—almost settled on his hands: birds of the temple, so familiar that one even allowed me to catch it, and did not fly away at once when I set it at liberty. There are rows of black Buddhas, white Buddhas, Sivas painted red—terrible—straddling in fighting attitudes; pilgrims without end bow and pray in front of each idol.

THREE:So at last the door was opened.

THREE:Amid the cool rush of a myriad streams is a garden, the loveliest in the world; the broad paths are shaded by cedars, banyans, palms, and crotons with purple and orange leaves. Under the garlands of gorgeous flowered climbers are hedges of roses of every shade, and shrubs starred with lavender and blue. In the ditches, above the water-plants strewn with petals like hoar-frost, grows a carpet of pale lilac cineraria.