CHAPTER XXIV
GWALIOR
FTER any experience with the ordinary dak bangla and the up-country hotels, the Mussaffirkhana, the maharaja's rest-house at Gwalior, is a dream of luxury. Used only to dirty carpets and dhurries, or ancient reed mattings laid on cement or mud floors, we rubbed our eyes at sight of the shining white stairway, at the clean, soft-piled carpets of the beautiful white villa, and more at the great-windowed bedrooms that were actually furnished. There were real bureaus and real beds—complete beds with springs, mattresses, pillows, sheets, blankets, and spreads! We sat down in amaze, and the sense of wonder was exhausted when we found every lock, hinge, knob, and fastening of the doors and windows in working order and the whole place spotlessly clean. Such sights had not been seen since Colombo. Below-stairs the pretty drawing-room and dining-room were as well kept and modern. The Mussaffirkhana was the greatest surprise in India, the enlightened maharaja a special providence to hardship-worn tourists fortunate enough to be permitted to inhabit that abode of bliss, a literal rest-
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