CHAPTER XXXII.

STILL IN INDIA.

General Grant and party visited the Maharajah of Burtpoor, a young prince about thirty years of age. His state is small its area 1,974 miles, with a population of 743,710, and a revenue of $15,000,000. The day was hot, and the ride had been through a low country, the scenery not very attractive at the best, but now brown and arid under a steaming sun. Arrived at the station, all Burtpoor seemed to be awaiting the General's appearance, with the Maharajah at the head. The prince was accompanied by the British officers attached to his court, and, advancing, shook hands with the General and welcomed him to his capital. He wore a blazing uniform, covered with jewels. He had a firm, stern face, with strong features, a good frame, and unlike his brother of Jeypore, who gives his days to prayers and his evenings to billiards; and, although he has the Star of India, has long since seen the vanity of human glory, and hates power, is a soldier and a sportsman, and is called a firm and energetic ruler. From the station the party drove to the palace, through a town whose dismantled walls speak of English valor and English shame, past bazaars, where people seemed to sell nothing, only to broil in the sunshine, and under a high archway into a courtyard, and thence to the palace. There was nothing special about the palace, except that it was very large and very uncomfortable. The prince does not live in this palace, but in one more suited to Oriental tastes. It was here where he received

the Prince of Wales on the occasion of his visit in 1876. There was a breakfast prepared, which the prince left his guests to enjoy in company with their English friends. In this country the hospitality of the highest princes never goes so far as to ask you to eat. The rules of caste are so marked that the partaking of food with one of another caste, and especially of another race, would be defilement. The host at the close of the breakfast returned in state, and there was the ceremony of altar and pan, and cordial interchanges of good feeling between the Maharajah and the General.

The General and party visited the famous ruins of Futtehpoor Sikva. In the days of the great Mohammedan rulers there was none so great as Akbar. He founded the city and built the palace. The night had fallen before the visitors arrived at their destination, so that they were compelled to remain over night in the ruins. Mr. Lawrence, the British Collector at Agra, had sent forward bed and bedding, and all that was necessary to make the guests comfortable. After a night's rest, the following morning an early start was made to view the ruins. To see all of this stupendous ruin would include a ride around a circumference of seven miles. The ruins were well worth a study. The General examined first a courtyard, or quadrangle, four hundred and thirty-three feet by three hundred and sixty-six feet. On one side of this is the mosque, which is a noble building, suffering, however, from the overshadowing grandeur of the principal gateway, the finest, it is said, in India, looming up out of the ruins with stately and graceful splendor, but dwarfing the other monuments and ruins. This was meant as an arch of triumph to the glory of the Emperor, "King of Kings," "Heaven of the Court," and "Shadow of God." There are many of these inscriptions in Arabic, a translation of which is found in Mr. Keene's handbook. The most suggestive is this:

"Know that the world is a glass, where the favor has come and gone. Take as thine own nothing more than what thou lookest upon." The prevailing aspect of the architecture was Moslem, with traces of Hindoo taste and decoration. The mosque, the tombs and the gateway are all well preserved. At one of the mosques were a number of natives in prayer, who interrupted their devotions long enough to show General Grant the delicate tracing on the walls and beg a rupee. One of the pleasures of wandering among these stupendous ruins is to wander alone and take in the full meaning of the work and the genius of the men who did it. The guides have nothing to tell you. The ruins to them are partly dwelling-places, pretexts for beg ging rupees.

General Grant and party visited Benares-the sacred city of the Hindoosa city of temples, idols, priests, and worship. The General found so much to interest him in India that it was a source of regret to him that he did not come earlier in the season. Every hour in the country had been full of interest, and the hospitality of the officials and the people so generous and profuse, that his way had been especially pleasant. Travel during the day in India is very severe. Mrs. Grant stood the journey, especially the severer phases of it, marvellously, and justifies the reputation for endurance and energy which she won on the Nile. The General is a severe and merciless traveler, who never tires, always ready for an excursion or an experience, as indifferent to the comforts or necessities of the way as if he had been on the tented field. Upon arriving at the station of Benares, Mr. Daniels, the representative of the Viceroy, met the General and party. A large guard of honor was in attendance, accompanied by the leading military and civic English representatives and native rajahs, who walked down the line with uncovered heads.

In honor of the General's coming, the road from the

station to the Government House had been illuminated. Poles had been stuck in the ground on either side of the road, and from these poles lanterns and small glass ves. els filled with oil were swinging. So as they drove, before and behind was an avenue of light that recalled the Paris boulevards as seen from Montmartre. It was a long drive to the house of the Commissioner. A part of his house Mr. Daniels gave to General and Mrs. Grant and Mr. Borie. For the others there were tents in the garden.

Benares, the sacred city of the Hindoos, sacred also to the Buddhists, is one of the oldest in the world. Macaulay's description, so familiar to all, is worth reprinting, from the vividness with which it represents it, as to-day. "Benares," says Macaulay, in his essay on Warren Hastings, "was a city which, in wealth, population, dignity and sanctity, was among the foremost in Asia. It was commonly believed that half a million 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 to 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

Ben

went forth the most delicate silks that adorned the halls of St. James and Verseilies; and in the bazaars the muslins of Bengal and the sabres of Oude were mingled with the jewels of Golconda and the shawls of Cashmere." ares to one-half the human race—to the millions in China who profess Buddhism and the millions in India who worship Brahma is as sacred as Jerusalem to the Christian or Mecca to the Mohammedan. Its greatness was known in the days of Nineveh and Babylon, when, as another writer says, "Tyre was planting her colonies, when Athens was gaining in strength, before Rome became known, or Greece had contended with Persia, or Cyrus had added to the Persian monarchy, or Nebuchadnezzar had captured Jerusalem." The name of Benares excites deep emotions in the breast of every pious Hinaoo, and his constant prayer is, "Holy Kasi! Would that I could see the eternal city favored of the gods! Would that I might die on its sacred soil!"

Benares is a city of priests. Its population is over two hundred thousand; of this number twenty-five thousand are Brahmins. They govern the city, and hold its temples, wells, shrines and streams. Pilgrims are constantly arriv ing; as many as two hundred thousand come in the course of the year. Not long since, one authority counted fourteen hundred and fifty-four Hindoo temples, and two hundred and seventy-two mosques, In addition to the temples, there are shrines-cavities built in walls, containing the image of some god-as sacred as the temples. Pious rahjas are always adding to the temples and shrines. The streets are so narrow that only in the widest can even an elephant make his way. They are alleys-narrow alleys, not streets-and, as you thread your way through them, you feel as if the town were one house, the chambers only separated by narrow passages. Benares, the holy cityholy even now in the eyes of more than half the human