From the Moti Mesjid, we visit the Shish Mahal, or mirrored bath-rooms.  The chambers and passages here remind me of the mirrored rooms of Persia; here, as there, thousands of tiny mirrors are used in working out various intricate designs.  My three uniformed companions at once reflect not less than half a regiment of British soldiers therein.

From the fort we drive in a native gharri to the Taj, a mile-drive through suburban scenery, plantain-gardens, groves, and ruins.  In approaching the garden of the Taj, one passes through a bazaar, where the skilful Hindoo artisans are busy making beautiful inlaid tables, inkstands, plates, and similar fancies, as well as models of the Taj, out of white Jeypore marble.  These are the hereditary descendants and successors of the men who in the palmy days of the Mogul power spent their lives in decorating the royal palaces and tombs with mosaics and tracery.  Nowadays their skill is expended on mere articles of virtue, to be sold to European tourists and English officers.  Some of them are occasionally employed by the Indian Government to repair the work desecrated by vandals during the mutiny, and under the purely commercial government of the East India Company.  One curious phase of this work is, that the men employed to replace with imitations the original stones that have been stolen receive several times higher pay than the men in Akbar’s time, who did such splendid work that it is not to be approached, these days.  Several months’ imprisonment is now the penalty of prying out stones from the mosaic-work of the Taj.

This lovely structure has been described so often by travellers that one can scarce venture upon a description without seeming to repeat what has already been said by others.  One of the best descriptions of its situation and surroundings is given by Bayard Taylor.  He says:  “The Taj stands on the bank of the Jumna, rather more than a mile to the eastward of the Fort of Agra.  It is approached by a handsome road cut through the mounds left by the ruins of ancient palaces.  It stands in a large garden, inclosed by a lofty wall of red sandstone, with arched galleries around the interior, and entered by a superb gateway of sandstone, inlaid with ornaments and inscriptions from the Koran in white marble.  Outside this grand portal, however, is a spacious quadrangle of solid masonry, with an elegant structure, intended as a caravanserai, on the opposite side.  Whatever may be the visitor’s impatience, he cannot help pausing to notice the fine proportions of these structures, and the massive style of their construction.  Passing under the open demi-vault, whose arch hangs high above you, an avenue of dark Italian cypress appears before you.  Down its centre sparkles a long row of fountains, each casting up a single slender jet.  On both sides, the palm, the banyan, and feathery bamboo mingle their foliage; the song of birds meets your ears, and the odor of roses and lemon-flowers sweetens the air.  Down such a vista, and over such a foreground, rises the Taj.”