Adoni Bourdalone had never been an extensive traveler. Until now the delights of travel had been denied him and he intended his journey to bring him the greatest pleasure. He did not take a fast liner, preferring a slower boat that would be less frequented by his acquaintances.

To him the ocean voyage was a revelation, a fitting prelude for the strange scenes to follow. The cool breeze crisping the water, scattering diamond spray above the waves, made laughter over the sea; then the broken lines of sparkling glory subsided and a brooding calm hushed the laughing water into a tranquil mood.

Then came a spell of rough weather. The wind blew a gale, the sea began to heave but Adoni proved to be a good sailor, spending most of the time on the deck. It was glorious to be alone with the sea and war-like roar of the great dashing waves and the spray drifting in sheets off their crest. Again came fair weather, with starlight nights, superb sunsets, with the crimson and gold splendor returning at dawn like Venus from the sea.

Reaching England, Adoni spent a week in London, then again boarded ship for Calcutta. Through the giant gate at Gibraltar and the Bay of Biscay, followed a voyage of enchantment upon the blue waters of the Mediterranean and the peaceful drifting through the Suez canal with its weird deserts and herds of camels along the shores.

After passing through the mouth of the canal into the emerald sea beyond, sandstone cliffs burned with bright red radiance came upon his view. Sea and sky glowed like sheets of burnished brass. Here in the torrid heat of the Red Sea, Adoni longed for the cool retreat of the mountains, and was glad at last to land in Calcutta, and feel once more the solid earth beneath his feet and to enjoy the freedom of the shore.

In Calcutta, the brilliant blaze of oriental coloring was beyond his imagination. Towers, temples, palaces and bridges, presented a glittering architectural splendor. The whiteness of the priest's robes was in pleasing contrast to the scarlet, blue and orange-hued garments of the brown-skinned inhabitants. The tropical gardens, canopied by the cloudless Indian skies, made a deep impression upon Adoni's sensitive nature.

At Morshedbad, the once stately capital of Bengal, he saw the pillars and arches of the famous black marble palace, and was permitted to view the priceless carved ivory throne of its long dead ruler. Three hundred years before a pestilence had broken out and thousands died daily; burial became impossible; the dead were thrown into the river; contagion spread far and near and the city was deserted for all time. It had fallen into decay and now presents to the eye of the explorer an uncared for jungle, with tall trees covered with tropical vines growing the streets and wild beasts roaming at will.

Leaving Allahbad, Adoni journeyed through vast plains, among countless shrines and mosques, half hidden by luxuriant vegetation, coming frequently upon herds of elephants grazing peacefully at the outskirts of deep jungled forests of mango and tamarind.

Accompanied by his servants and guides, they again left the beaten path, to visit the pearl among tombs, Taj Mahal, the dream of oriental imagination, wrought of glittering white marble into fairy-like architecture. Above the river Ganges rises this vast quadrangle, surmounted by a gigantic, pearl-like dome, flanked on either side by smaller mosques of red sandstone, inlaid with black and white marble. From the four corners of the central pile spring four tall, graceful minarets, like pillars of light against the celestial blue. The building in its perfect proportion and beautiful design, amazingly intricate in its seeming simplicity, seems in very truth a dream of unearthly splendor and stands within an extensive garden, enclosed by a noble wall of red sandstone.

Upon being told that its beauty was marvellously enhanced by moonlight, Adoni remained, and felt himself amply repaid as he gazed on its imposing splendor, shimmering in the light of the moon like newly-fallen snow. Adoni then listened to the story of love which this monument commemorates.

Taj Mahal was built during the Mohammedan ascendency by the Emperor Shay Jehan, in memory of his wife. She was the love of his youth, the light of his life, the mother of his children; who after fourteen years of wedded bliss, was called away to Allah's paradise. Like a spirit bereft, the emperor was inconsolable, and he honored her memory with the building of this tomb, which has since filled the world with wonder.

The next week Adorn found himself in the foot-hills of the Himalayas. Above towered the snow-capped peaks which cast their long, cool shadows on the parched plains below. From Simla he traveled in a jampan, borne on the shoulders of natives who proved to be trusty, sure-footed, and familiar with the mountains. The way led over yawning chasm and gorge, so close to the precipice of some overhanging cliff, that one wrong step would hurl the traveler into the fathomless depths below.

Days lengthened into weeks before the ascent from Simla to Rogi Cliff, the goal of his journey, was completed. He continued to travel over hills clothed with the sombre hue of pine forest; penetrating dark ravines, all clad in the same everlasting green, where even in the brightest mid-day the gloomy shadows still lingered.

Then followed soft; gray days, when the wind came down the gorge, tossing the dark plumes of the pines which moaned in echoing sighs like shadowy spirits of the trees, wailing dirges over their dead.

Emerging from this primeval forest they came along the face of a tremendous cliff, where far below, the river Sutlej rushed down over huge boulders and water-worn granite. Rearing its massive shoulders high above the crystal stream, stood the Rogi Cliff, where nestled against its protecting walls a two-story chalet built in Swiss fashion. This was the spot where Adoni Bourdalone was to make his home. Its surrounding beauty, with which he was confronted, surpassed all the wonderful scenes through which they had journeyed so long.