A look of supreme satisfaction overspread his face as he informed me that the deep spiritual meaning which was conveyed to his heart was not in the wheel or in the fires, but in himself as he thought of the efficacy of the daily sacrifice which he offered to the gods, which convinced me that he at least firmly believed that the return of the sun-god to his place in the heavens every morning was due to his efforts and that of his brethren in performing from one end of the year to the other this self-imposed mystic night-dance in honor of the solar system. The moon had risen as we put our little tattoos'[62] faces Khandala-ward and trotted away from the Karli village and the Hindoo ascetics. We had a very amusing half-broken and half-rattling talk with our pundit, who insisted that there was nothing more holy in the way of worship than the "puja chakra," which we had just seen. When my husband irreverently inquired, "If the wheel-worship was not a gentle hint to the sun to be up and about his business every morning," our good guide and teacher became suddenly grave and silent, and not another word would he say to us on the subject of this curious worship. Next day we climbed a hill to see the old fort of Lok-garha, which was twice captured from the Mahrattas by the East India Company's generals. It occupies a commanding position, and we enjoyed the view from it. This grand old Mahratta fortress is full of historical interest. It was here that the beautiful and astute widow of Nana Furnaveez, the most famous of the Mahratta ministers, took refuge, and the killadhar, or commander of the fort, obtained for her from General Wellesley not only a guarantee of safety, but an annual pension of twelve thousand rupees. On our return ride we passed through a wild but beautiful part of the hills. We saw and heard the stately pea-fowl that are found in this neighborhood; they added very much to the wild, luxuriant beauty of the woods. On the following morning we bade adieu to the beautiful Bohr Ghauts. There was a great deal more of loveliness to be seen for many a mile until we reached the slope of the mountains, which is gradual rather than abrupt, as it is on the opposite side, and after that it was of no consequence at all where we looked. We were riding down a bleak, rugged, desolate country, slightly inclined; this was that immense triangular plateau between the Ghaut districts on the east and west and the great Vindhiya chain on the north. As we approached Poonah we found the views more interesting--fields of wheat, maize, orchards of fruit trees, plantain-groves, and the peepul, tamarind, and palm waving above them all. When we reached the bridge that spans the Moota River, it was near sunset. A flood of light poured from the sky over hill and dale and valley, gilding with unusual brilliancy the venerable roofs of Parbuttee and the half-ruined turretted walls of the Peishwa's palace.