coloured coverings, a large mirror, and other suitable furniture.  Some pictures, not English, hung upon the walls.  Surja Mukhi and Nagendra together had chosen the subjects, and caused them to be painted by a native artist, who had been taught by an Englishman, and could draw well.  Nagendra had framed the pictures handsomely, and hung them on the walls.  One picture was taken from the Birth of Kartika:  Siva, sunk in meditation, on the summit of the hill; Nandi at the door of the arbour.  On the left Hembatra, finger on lip, is hushing the sounds of the garden.  All is still, the bees hid among the leaves, the deer reposing.  At this moment Madan (Cupid) enters to interrupt the meditation of Siva; with him comes Spring.  In advance, Parvati, wreathed with flowers, has come to salute Siva.  Uma’s joyous face is bent in salutation, one knee resting on the earth.  This is the position depicted in the painting.  As she bends her head, one or two flowers escape from the wreaths fastened in her hair.  In the distance Cupid, half hidden by the woods, one knee touching earth, his beauteous bow bent, is fitting to it the flower-wreathed arrow.

In another picture, Ram, returning from Lanka with Janaki, both sitting in a jewelled chariot, is coursing through the sky.  Ram has one hand on the shoulders of Janaki, with the other is pointing out the beauties of the earth below.  Around the chariot many-coloured clouds, blue, red, and white, sail past in purple waves.  Below, the broad blue ocean heaves its billows, shining like heaps of diamonds in the sun’s rays.  In the distance, opal-crowned Lanka, its rows of palaces like golden peaks in the sun’s light; the opposite shore beautiful with tamal and palm trees.  In the mid distance flocks of swans are flying.

Another picture represents Subhadra with Arjuna in the chariot.  Countless Yadav soldiers, their flags streaming out against the gloomy sky, are running after the chariot.  Subhadra herself is driving, the horses grinding the clouds with their hoofs.  Subhadra, proud of her skill, is looking round towards Arjuna, biting her lower lip with her ivory teeth, her hair streaming in the chariot-created wind; two or three braids moistened with perspiration lie in a curve on her temples.

In another, Sakuntala, with the desire of seeing Dushmanta, is pretending to take a thorn from her foot.  Anasuya and Priamboda are smiling.  Sakuntala, between anger and shame will not raise her face.  She cannot look at Dushmanta, nor yet can she leave the spot.

In another, Prince Abhimaya, armed for battle, and, like the young lion, eager for glory, is taking leave of Uttora that he may go to the field.  Uttora, saying that she will not let him go, is standing against the closed door weeping, with her hands over her eyes.