We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
comes from all the plantations and settlements for Birthday
miles around; guest palaces and jockey and hunt clubs ^cue^
and hotels are all full and overflowing into tents that
have sprung up like mushrooms everywhere. Garden
parties, teas, a command dinner at Government
House, all very much in the English manner with a
strong British stamp. Delhi on a smaller scale — all
except the Royal Birthday Procession — that was
India, an India worth sailing the seven seas to see.
Thousands of the finest horses in regiments of flash The
ing colours; be-turbaned troops in gorgeous, exotic Maharajah's
livery, astride beautiful mounts caparisoned with leo 'r J
r Procession
pard skins; the royal and sacred elephants, wonderful
to see in gold and silver brocade and jewelled trappings. And the Maharajah and his heir in the midst of it, in pale green and gold and rose and gold; His Highness riding upon a pure white Arab charger.
It was no theatrical show but impressive dignity. 'H.H." The Maharajah is a little, pale man with a kind, sad face. His city is his jewel. He goes up every night to his temple and dwelling on his high hill to meditate over it and institute projects for the people — arts and crafts, a silk mill, sandalwood mill, a model farm, a model village, water power — and summons to his projects the best machines, materials and brains of Europe, so that Mysore is the best administered state in India. The personality of the little man, whose essence I feel everywhere, intrigues me mightily.
25