he stood silent and stupid before us. Passing by numerous temples we proceed to the center of the city to visit the Mosque of Aurungzebe, built on the site of the magnificent Hindoo temple, Bindoo Madhava, which was destroyed to give it place. Ascending one of its minarets, 232 feet, we had a pretty good view of the ecclesiastical capital of Hindostan, so holy in the estimation of Hindoos that any one dying within a circle of fifty miles of which a certain well in the city is the center, is sure of heaven. This brings multitudes from all quarters thither to die. It is the seat of the Hindoo Sanscrit College, the chief institution of native Hindoo learning, and it is crowded, not merely with scholars, but mendicant priests. We next visited the Man Mandil, an ancient Hindoo observatory, many of whose coarse but curious instruments are still preserved. Thence we passed through some of the narrow streets, a part of the Chowkambia bazaar, and the market Beseshergunje, the Queen's College, the College of Jay Narayen, and the schools of the missionaries.

One of the strangest objects to a Western man is the treatment of the dead. The corpse is taken in a palanquin to the bank of the stream; here it is sprinkled with Ganges water. A fire is kindled under it, the friends attending depart,

and the persons having charge of the cremation do not wait for it to be consumed, but push it half charred into the river, down which it floats, the crows pecking it above, the fishes below.

Passing from temple to temple, and from shrine to shrine, we could but think what an awful thing Indian idolatry is. So filthy, so vile, Christian pen dare not describe what the eye may see in that classic seat of heathenism. You must read the first chapter of the Epistle to the Romans to understand it. The apostle meant what he said when he told the Ephesians that they were washed. Heathens now need washing, not their feet and hands alone, but their tongues, their minds, their consciences. It is silly as it is vile. Monkeys are venerated. In the neighborhood of one temple they crowd the street, the sidewalks, and hang from the roofs of the houses like grapes from the vine. They fill the courts and gates of the temple itself. Sacred bulls, too, wander the streets, fat and impudent and dangerous, helping themselves at the groceries, and turning the people from the sidewalks. Occasionally one is enticed aside by the Mohammedans, and slyly converted into beef. At one time the Government was obliged to deport a number across the river for the safety of the city. When a rich man loses a

relative he lets loose a bull, which is supposed to be the recipient of the departed spirit, and thenceforward he becomes sacred. A bull, however, would be sacred without this, as this animal is supposed to be one of the forms of incarnation assumed by Vishnu; and the Ganges is supposed to proceed from the mouth of a cow. Images, as well as natural objects, are worshiped. Mr. Leupolt, a Church missionary, said that after riding all one day, in the most romantic and beautiful region of the valley of the Nerbuddah, charmed both with the waters. and the fields, and especially the mountains, whose gorges seemed to lift the mind irresistibly up to the Almighty, he came across a Fakeer, who was in a dark, dirty cave, where he had dwelt alone for thirty years, worshiping an idol, which he had made himself. He was curious to see the object of the man's devotion; and what think you it was made of-cow-dung! Now, said Mr. L., if the man had spent life worshiping the mountains or the stream, I would have forgiven him, but to make his adoration day after day, year after year, to that bit of dirt, was too horrible.

At one

The worship is a piece of mosaic. temple there stood at the gate a shivering ram, which some one had brought to be sacrificed

to appease the god who was supposed to have brought sickness upon his family. Near by was the altar, and by its side the broad and bloody knife wherewith the priest is accustomed to sever, at a blow, the head of the animal from the neck. Passing into the court we see the temple. It is small. On a platform before it stands the priest; in the rear is the idol. The worshiper enters with some water and flowers. In order that the god may notice him and give attention to his offering, he rings the bell which is suspended above him. Having poured water and sprinkled flowers upon the object of his devotion, he sits down with a string of beads in his hands to count his prayers, which generally consist of a repetition of the word Ram— the name of his god. So shameful is the appearance of one of the common objects of worship that even Indian women, though veiled, are too modest to present themselves before it by daylight, and therefore they pay their devotions at night. Such is the tendency to worship that men are found worshiping telegraph poles, gaspipes, and ordinary men who do any extraordinary deeds. It is easy to conceive what must be the literature and the common language of such a people. The curses and conversation of even the children in the street would not be

repeated in the vilest purlieus of New York. If you ask the reason why the women are not educated, you are told that there is no literature in Hindoo fit for a decent woman to read. Of course the mind of the people is dwarfed and the conscience corrupted. As practice flows from principles, it must needs be that Indian morality is law. Notwithstanding the influence of British magistracy and the power of British laws, infanticide, slavery, dakoitee, thuggee, and other forms of wickedness are practiced, though concealed.

And yet there is hope for the people! Sir John Lawrence happened to be at Benares during my stay there, and four hundred pupils of the Queen's College, and four thousand children from the schools presented themselves before him on the grass of the campus with their slates and maps, and copy-books and diagrams, prepared to answer questions. One boy had advanced to the fourth book of Euclid. This visit of Sir John gave me an opportunity of seeing more of the higher life of India in one day than I could have done under ordinary circumstances in years. A party of one hundred and fifty persons, from the best families of the neighboring districts, came to the ball of the Maharajah of the city. The line of road through