THE ANCIENT ABBEY OF AJANTA 6i
like a succession of pillared verandahs, broken once near the middle, and culminating in the distance in the tall arched fronts of great chaitya- halls. It is thus that we first become aware of Caves Ten and Twenty-six, and are affected by their severity and regularity as if by music. In reality, Nine and Nineteen are also chaityas. But both are slightly masked by masses of rock, and only Ten and Twenty-six stand out in this first view.
How lonely and remote is this glen in which we find them ! It lies crescent-shaped among its hills, so that the view from each monastery-cave seems closed upon itself. The torrent that runs through it enters, as a great cascade, at the northern end, and leaves this rocky ravine without giving a hint of a world without, where twistings and windings are to bring it to a wider stream. Such are the sites that have ever seemed ideal to the monk. The murmur of running vvaters and the voices of the waterfalls make to his ear a perpetual plain-song, in unison with the intoning of ancient psalters and the chanting of texts. In the circling path of the sunlight measured against the green, its first rays at dawn and its last at cowdust, are signals for ringing of bells and lighting of lamps, for processions, and incense, and sprinkling of holy water. The quivering of leaves through the tropical day speaks of coolness and shadow, the environment of learning ; and the solitude of nature promises remoteness from the world, the only possible environment of holiness. Such must
