So died a man who dreamt a dream, who turned that dream into a reality for his lifetime; but for his lifetime only. Fate gave him no future. Even his enemies admit with a sneer, saying he had it a gift from a Hindu _jogi_, his almost marvellous power of seeing through men and their motives at a glance. Did he ever, we wonder, look at his own face in the glass, and see written there his failure? Most of his administrative reforms exist to the present day. Some, such as the abolition of _suttee_ and the legislation for widow remarriage which he enforced easily, nearly cost us India to establish. But Akbar had the advantage of being a king indeed. "There is but one God, and Akbar is his Viceroy." Such was his first motto. If it made him a despot, his second one made him tolerant. "There is good in all things. Let us adopt what _is_ good, and discard the remainder." And this admixture of despotism and tolerance is the secret of Indian statesmanship. Akbar was the most magnificent of monarchs; but all his magnificences held a hint of imagination. Whether in the scattering amongst the crowd by the king's own hand, as he passed to and fro, of dainty enamelled rose-leaves, silvern jasmine-buds, or gilded almonds, or in the daily Procession of the Hours, all Akbar's ceremonials have reference to something beyond the weary, workaday world. In the midst of it all he was simplicity itself. No better conclusion to this ineffectual record of his reign can be given than this description of him by a European eyewitness:-- "He is affable and majestical, merciful and sincere. Skilful in mechanical arts, as making guns, etc.; of sparing diet, sleeping but three hours a day, curiously industrious, affable to the vulgar, seeming to grace them and their presents with more respective ceremonies than those of the grandees; loved and feared of his own; terrible to his enemies." One word more. He invariably administered justice sitting or standing below the throne; thus declaring himself to be the mere instrument of a Supreme Power to which he also owned obedience. So not without cause did this record begin by calling Akbar a Dreamer. JAHÂNGIR AND NURJAHÂN A.D. 1605 TO A.D. 1627 These names, "Conqueror of the World" and "Light of the World," are inseparable. It is as well they should be so, for they supply us with the only excuse which Prince Salîm could put forward for the curious animosity that for many years went hand in hand with his undoubted affection and respect for his great father, Akbar; the excuse being that he had been crossed in love, real, genuine love, by that father's absurd sense of justice. The story will bear telling.