There is here a Hindoo temple, and a fine reservoir which occupies a quarter of a mile of ground. This reservoir and the adjoining temple, dedicated to Maha Dèo, were built by that most subtle of Mahratta ministers, the famous Nana Furnaveez, whose real name was Balaji Jahnardhan. It is exceedingly well built; the sides are lined and the banks paved with fine stone; steps lead everywhere to the edge of the water; a magnificent banyan tree overshadows the artificial lake, and near it flourishes a fine grove of mango trees. On the opposite side of us men, women, and children were bathing, swimming and disporting themselves in the water. Some of the young women were symmetry itself, with exquisitely-proportioned, slender forms, delicate hands and feet, finely-poised heads and necks. Their long hair streamed behind them in the water as they swam merrily about. Others were just stepping out of the tank arrayed in their graceful but dripping sarees, which they allow to dry on their persons while they proceed to fill their water-jars, and, piling them one above the other on their heads, depart to their respective homes. These women seemed very innocent and child-like, and a closer acquaintance with several high-bred and true Hindoos proved that these were their distinguishing characteristics. At three o'clock next morning we began the ascent of the Ghauts in palanquins, or, as they are commonly called, palkees, with coolies to transport our baggage and provisions. About sunrise we reached a very remarkable point in these mountains, a deep and frightful-looking chasm. We alighted from our palkees and went over this part of the Ghauts on foot. At length we were directed as near as we dared to approach the spot where the mountain was split in two.[57] Not a sound was heard anywhere. As we stood there the shadows of the crags brightened every moment, now shimmered along the sides, and shed flickering shafts of light far down upon the midnight darkness below. It was a glorious picture--the depth below and the height above, on whose summits the plumes of the palm trees waved their branches to the rising sun. The atmosphere was remarkably clear, and this helped us to see a great distance with the naked eye. On one side gently-falling slopes gave place to abrupt precipices and innumerable peaks, and on the other far below were smiling plains, each more beautiful than the other in form and color, affording now and then most magical glimpses of green fields dotted with great reservoirs that looked like silvery spots, and cozy little Hindoo villages nestling amid charming groves and palm-plantations. As the story goes, the duke of Wellington, then a simple colonel, cast all his guns into one of these reservoirs when he found no means of conveying them any farther, lest they should fall into the hands of the enemy, as he marched over the same road to Poonah and there quelled the famous Mahratta rebellion of 1802.