Mr. Tagore called upon me to say that in consequence of damage done by the cyclone to the church of the Brahmos, the next meeting of that body would be in his father's chapel, and that they would be happy to see me there. Accordingly, at the appointed time, I set out for it in company with Dr. Butler. We found, in passing through the native city, an intolerable smoke, and were assured that it is always experienced in the evening, and results from the fires of the natives, who do their cooking at this period; often in fire-places without chimneys, and filled with cow-dung, which is the chief combustible of the country.

The house of the Baboo is high and substantial, and built round a spacious court. In the first story, extending across one side, is the chapel; a beautiful apartment, capable of accommodating three or four hundred worshipers, with a pulpit and orchestra. Every thing about it is tasteful and Grecian. Behind the pulpit were numerous inscriptions in Sanscrit, Hindoo, Arabic, Persian, etc.; such as, "God is one, and there is no second," "God is true," "God is good," "God is beautiful." The worshipers were all men, chiefly young, and dressed in white robes. They sat upon the marble floor during the whole service. Mr. Tagore and two other

gentlemen seated themselves in the pulpit, and the worship commenced. It consisted in reading select passages from the Shasters, prayers, chants, and hymns-with instrumental accompaniment— and excogitations from the breast of Mr. Tagore, etc. The assembly was orderly, and, apparently, devout. Many of them moved their bodies backward and forward; a motion in which they seemed to have imitated those who occupied the pulpit. At our entrance we were seated in two arm-chairs that were provided for us. After service the younger Baboo invited us to tea. Besides himself, his brother and the chief lecturer of the association appeared at the table, but none of the rest of the family. The lecturer is a well-educated and accomplished gentleman. He goes to the different cities of India to declaim against idolatry, and organize affiliated societies. The meeting produced mingled feelings of joy and sorrow, hope and fear.

It is easy to understand how young men, educated in the government schools of India, lose faith in their own religion, and, as they have no better presented to them, lose faith in all. It is easy, too, to perceive how this institution, at present simply theistic, will become otherwise. The utterances of Baboo Tagore are taken down and printed, and they already constitute a book.

This book will soon come to be regarded as inspired, since its sentences are supposed to come from the inner monitor, or divine guide.

From Calcutta we proceed by railway to Benares, through Serampore, the seat of the first Baptist mission in India, Shandernagore, Burdwan, Dinapore, Patua, and Buxar. The distance. is 540 miles. We crossed the Ganges on a bridge of boats. It was night when we arrived. The city, lighted up, made a fine appearance from the stream. Here we were met by Mr. Sherring and Mr. Blake, of the London Missionary Society, and kindly taken to the house of the former. One can hardly enter such a place as this without emotion. Benares is regarded by the Hindoos as coeval with the birth of Hindooism, and is a place of holiness and heavenly beauty. It calls forth the same longing as the Mohammedan feels to visit Mecca, and, hence, attracts crowds of pilgrims. It was here that, in the year 588 B. C., Sakya Muni, the last and only historical Buddh, on attaining Buddahood, first "turned the wheel of the Law" in the monastery, now known as Sarnath; a position which he sought as one from which he could best influence the nation. Benares must, therefore, have been regarded as the ecclesiastical capital of the country at that early period. The Hindoos have

a foolish tradition that it existed before the Flood, and that Mahades balanced it on his trident, and thus saved it from the waters. It is, however, but a sober opinion that Benares was flourishing while Athens was but beginning, and, perhaps, may have furnished Solomon with gold to adorn the Temple. Macaulay's famous description in his "Warren Hastings" is still correct, only that he puts the population too high. He says it is “a city which, in wealth, population, dignity, and sanctity was among the foremost of Asia. It was commonly believed that half a million of human beings were crowded into that labyrinth of lofty alleys, rich with shrines, and minarets, and balconies, and carved oriels, to which the sacred apes clung by hundreds. The traveler could scarcely make his way through the press of holy mendicants, and not less holy bulls. The broad and stately flights of steps which descended from these swarming haunts, and the bathing places along the Ganges, were worn every day by the footsteps of an innumerable multitude of worshipers. The schools and temples drew crowds. of pious Hindoos from every province where the Brahminical faith was known. Hundreds of devotees came thither every month to die; for it was believed that a peculiarly happy fate awaited the man who should pass from the sacred city

into the sacred river. Nor was superstition the only motive which allured strangers to that great metropolis. Commerce had as many pilgrims as religion. All along the shores of the venerable stream lay great fleets of vessels laden with rich merchandise. From the looms of Benares went forth the most delicate silks that adorned the balls of St. James and of Versailles; and in the bazaars, the muslins of Bengal and the sabers of Oude were mingled with the jewels of Golconda and the shawls of Cashmere."

Before daylight next morning we were in a carriage, and on our way to Sigra, the site of the Church mission. Thence we proceeded to the celebrated temples of Trilochan, Nirbadeshwar, Bisheshwar, Admahadeo, Gyanapi, etc. Going down to the river, we took a boat and rowed along the water-front of the city several miles, charmed with the palaces and ghats. Stopping at one of the latter, we saw a number of worshipers in the stream bathing and offering their devotions both to the water and the sun. Among these was an old woman with leprosy. On the bank sat a Fakeer, the most miserable object I ever beheld; wan, worn to a skeleton, his limbs apparently stiffened, his hair disheveled, his whole person nearly nude, and covered with ashes. And yet he was an object of worship as