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here; some were drowned in the shoals of the treacherous river in bathing; others died of disease, and their graves dot the enclosure, their names rudely carved on blocks of wood and trees fast vanishing.

* * * * * * * * * *

As we approach the sacred city of Benares, the mass of people on the trunk road gives one the impression of a fair or procession. They are in small groups, or travel in large parties, men old and young, children and women. All shuffle up the fine dust with their toes, or pointed shoes, and the air is filled with a choking precipitate of the kunker, or carbonate of lime nodules, which form the metalling of the road. Long strings of creaking country-carts, heavily laden with bales of cotton, and drawn by mild-eyed humped oxen, followed each other continuously towards Calcutta. The human current headed the other way. It is worth observing the immense difference between the young and the old of the poorer classes of Hindoos. The former are broad-chested, straight, muscular men, albeit from sitting on their "hunkers," as the Irish say, the muscles of the thigh are drawn up flat from the knee to the hip, and give them rather hollow thighs and large knees. The old men are bowed, and feeble, and thin exceedingly; their skin hangs in loose folds crossed with innumerable wrinkles, and beneath it the lank muscles and sinews can be seen working distinctly on and over the bones of the skeleton; it is darker than when they are young, and the creases look white, so that they have a disagreeable animal look, and seem as if they were covered with a hide instead of a skin. Each man carries his bamboo latee shod with iron, with a bundle at one end, and the unfailing loto, a

VOL. I.

L

polished brass pot, used for cooking, and drinking, and drawing water, for which purpose there is a string attached to it hung at the other. Poor is the wretch who carries one of earthenware, and poor as he is he must, like poverty, pay more dearly than wealth does ever, for his earthen pot is broken after every meal. The halting-places under the trees at each side of the road are full of broken earthenware and whitened bones of cattle. The women carry bundles animate and inanimate; the former seated cross-legs over one big hip, and clasping their bearers round the neck, the latter on their shoulders. Children of all ages, from five to twelve, toddle along the road, taking their share in the family troubles. In no instance is a friendly glance directed to the white man's carriage. Oh, that language of the eye! Who can doubt? who can misinterpret it? It is by it alone that I have learned our race is not even feared at times by many, and that by all it is disliked. Pray God I have read it falsely. These passers-by are wondrously squalid and poorly clad. But already I have been told I must not judge from appearances in India. The climate does not demand the use of clothes. The people, I am told, when they are chez eux, take off as much of their cotton covering as they can. But I see a native "swell pass me in a tatterdemalion shigram, or a quaint little shed upon wheels, a kind of tray placed in a bamboo framework, and he is dressed in shawls, and wrapped in profuse clothes. That signifies nothing. "Those fellows like to show how rich they are by sporting fine cashmeres and gold embroidery." "Then when men are rich they dress well, and nakedness and rags are a sign of poverty ?" "My dear sir,

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you are a griff; you don't understand those niggers yet." * * * * * * * * *

Before us there is a long line of roofs, temples, cupolas, pillars, minaret-like spires rising up on a high ridge, between which and the road as it melts away among the trees is a deep ravine. As we drive always amid dust, and trampling feet, and multitudes of people, the ridge seems to rise and the ravine to deepen. At last in the far side under the ridge, the eye catches a streak of water which becomes broader as we get nearer, and then we see that underneath the sacred city of Benares, washing the steps of its temples which stretch for miles along its bank, flows the Holy Ganges, spanned by a large bridge of boats. We had still a toilsome descent and struggle through deep sands left uncovered by the river, now at its lowest, ere the gharry arrived at the rude planks which form the causeway of the bridge. The city, seen from the right bank of the river, looks right glorious. If the Rhine flowed under the walls of the old city of Edinburgh, and swept along from the castle to Holyrood over the railway ravine, the scene would be something like that presented by Benares. But there are no lofty hills; no Calton; no Arthur's Seat in the distance. In lieu thereof, over the bridge towers the high mud walls and batteries of the Raj-ghaut fort, which was erected recently to secure the passage of the river. It was intensely hot when we got to the bridge, and the moment had just been selected to open it for the passage of some native boats downwards.

So General Garrett, his aide Dallas, Oxenden, and the whole party had to sit-and not cool their heelstill the process, which was directed by an extremely

irritable and intoxicated European, was at an end. Then a drive through a long street of detached houses and gardens, along a road bordered by fine trees, in which screamed legions of green parroquets, brought us, after some two or three miles, to the English station, where we took refuge in Charles' Hotel. (N.B. A hotel in India, up country, is a place where you can get everything that you bring with you, and nothing else, except bed and soda-water.) Here we had dinner and much argument; in fact, whether it be the heat, or the curry, or the state of one's liver, it seems that the disposition of Englishmen alters in India, and they become very argumentative and theoretical. There is not one point or view we advance which is not sure to be contradicted. Even if one says, “This is a hot day," another is sure to observe, "I don't agree with you. There was a nice breeze about three o'clock this morning; and if you had ever been at Stuffcote you would not call this hot.” "Stuffcote! why I have been there was there for years-and I call it one of the coolest stations in India." "What! in August?” "Yes; especially and most particularly in August. I have felt chilly in August, sir," &c., &c.

CHAPTER X.

Outside of Benares.-Allahabad: the fort.-A canvas wall.The Governor-General's tent.--Lieut. P. Stewart.-A colonel of sepoys.-Poor Clarke !-Question and answer.-Railway terminus. A short walk.-Gharrys for Cawnpore.-Sir Robert Garrett's tongue.-Hall at Futtehpore.

February 9th.-Left Benares early, without seeing anything of it, except the long line of ghauts and temples, the outside of the college and of the church, the same of Dr. Ballantyne-whose name is identified with the former seat of learning, and whom I regretted I could not do more than shake for one moment by the hand-and the inside of Charles' Hotel. Our stout landlord, fertile-in-item-in-bill-compelling-resources, Saxonically and Bonifacically saw us off-a good easy man, who was happy in the belief that he kept rather a good hotel, and did good to all men thereby. The country outside the city is one great garden-fertile exceedingly; the road still thronged with cottoncarts, and pilgrims, and foot-passengers. On, on! all day, fast as we could go; but do what we could, daylight failed us ere the gharry reached the waste of sand which forms the uncovered bed of the Ganges, opposite Allahabad, and it was quite dark before we got on the bridge of boats which spans the now-diminished volume of the stream. Where to go, we knew not. The fort was closed at night-fall. The bungalow, when we reached it, was quite full; but we were told some tents were pitched on the esplanade in front