On the west of the fort are a number of Hindoo temples dedicated chiefly to Siva and to Bhawanee, the Indian Venus, who seems ever to have been a favorite with these hardy mountaineers. The view from the fort is one of the most charming in the world. The forms of the different hills are quaint, and crowned with barbaric fortresses and temples that are fast crumbling away to give place to a rich and tropical vegetation; the great plain below, dotted with the houses and gardens of the European and native residents; the lakes, the bazaars, the busy thoroughfares, and, far away for many a mile, a road, leaf-canopied and cool in the hottest midday sun, lined on each side with thousands of magnificent mango trees. These mango trees were planted by one of the native rulers in expiation of the murder of a noble Hindoo statesman, an envoy from Barodah. On the south-western side of the old town stands the antiquated palace of Sivaji. We were shown into an attractive chamber called the Jallah Mandir, the "water pavilion." Surrounded by a variety of beautiful creeping plants and almost encircled with water, it is cooled by quaint little Oriental fountains that splash and spirt upward all day long. This peculiar water-bound chamber is almost fairy-like. But the deity of this place is the huge sword with which the treacherous Sivaji slew his trusting foe, Afzah Khan, the general of Bijapoor. By a strange contradiction, this sword is called Bhawanee, the goddess of love, and the people believe that the sweet goddess has imparted to the old sword a charm which is deadly to the enemies of the Mahrattas. As we went back through the town we peeped into one or two of the temples. There were in them some curious old idols of heroes rather than gods, but they were as hideous as possible. A little farther on the ground was made lovely with immense numbers of wild flowers, red, yellow, and blue. From the Star City of the Deccan we went back a few days' journey and crossed the "Nira bridge," one of the fine old Mahratta works, to visit the village and hill-temples of Jijuhre. The village was insignificant enough, but the hill on which stands the temple of Khandoba, the warrior-god of the early Mahrattas, was very striking. It is flat-topped and rises abruptly from the surrounding plain, its entire surface covered with temples, gates, pillars, stone monuments of every conceivable object, and has the appearance of a huge cemetery. If it had not been for the presence of our pundit I doubt if we should have been allowed to visit this once-famous temple.