denying the superiority of the men, either in point of complexion or physiognomy-barring, however, those instances of obesity, which disfigures a Khottah into a monstrous caricature-a 'huge ton of a man.' The physique of the Bengalee betrays his Sudra, if not his Santhal origin. But in the Chetries and Brahmins of Kasi, we might still trace the features of an old Aryan ancestry.

From bath to breakfast. Some of the dishes were a luxury we had not known since leaving Calcutta. Most of them were in strict accordance with the culinary dicta of Menu.

Out upon sight-seeing. First of all, lay in our way the big and burly Teelabhandessur. He is a bluff piece of rock, the huge rotundity of which makes plausible the story of his daily growth by a grain of teelseed. Following, is the legend of his origin. There was a young Brahmin, who had become enamoured of the pretty wife of a wine-dealer. The husband had need to go out upon business, promising to be back on the next day. In his absence, the wife invited her paramour to spend the night in her company. But unexpectedly the dealer returned home in the middle of the night, and threw the lovers into a great embarrassment. Finding no way to send the Brahmin out, the fertile wit of a woman contrived to hide him in one of the big jars that lay in a corner of the hut. On the door being opened to him, the dealer prepared to store the wine he had brought in one of the jars. Luckily or unluckily, it is difficult to decide which, he pitched in the dark

Teelabhandessur.-The leaning Temple. 255

upon the very jar in which the Brahmin was concealed. The young man little dreamt of the danger that was nigh-of being 'drowned in a butt of Malmsey.' He made no noise as the wine was poured in—and perhaps thought to himself, that it was a mighty boon to have both wine and woman together. But when the jar began to fill up towards the brim, the danger of his position could not but become obvious to him. Nothing daunted, however, he still maintained his silence rather than betray himself to disgrace, and enduring his suffocation without a groan, quietly gave up the ghost. Next morning, when the dealer went to turn out some wine, he found to his amazement both the jar and its contents petrified into stone. The story of the miracle was passed from mouth to mouth-and they made an apotheosis of the adulterer for his martyrdom in the cause of gallantry. Judging from Teelabhandessur's size, the Brahmin could scarcely have been contained in a jar of so small dimensions. All Ovid's Metamorphoses are cast into the shade by this single one of Teelabhandessur.

To test Bishop Heber's plan, we hired a boat, and scudded down the stream. The leaning temple, often so prominent in an engraving of Benares, threatens to give way every moment, but it has remained in that posture for several years. The foundation ground has partly slipped down, and the river annually washes away its base, still it is spared as a standing miracle.-The Mussulman has razed down the convent of Ramanund over the Punchgunga ghaut, and there is now a supposed impression of his feet to mark the site. From the

burning of a corpse was made out the Munikurnika ghaut-the most sacred spot for cremation in all India. According to the version of the Shivites,-invented to exalt themselves at the expense of their antagonists,Vishnu performed here certain acts of devotion in honour of Mahadeo, and as this pleased deity was in the act of nodding his assent to the prayers of his humiliated rival, he chanced to drop a pearl from one of his earrings-whence the name of Munikurnika. Vishnu, having been in want of water, had caused a fountain to spring up from the earth. This miracle is an object of the highest veneration. But the little cistern is so full of decomposed leaves and flowers, that a dip into it threatens to give more an immediate ague than a passport to heaven. Vishnu was in want of water while praying upon the very bank of the Ganges—as well may the Brahmins want us to gulp down pell-mell the story of an ant devouring up an elephant. The impressions of his feet are shown on the spot. But all such footprints are a religious plagiarism from the Buddhists, by whom they were first introduced on the death of Buddha. The closing scene of Arichandra is laid at the Munikurnika ghaut. Indeed, Benares has been the statecage for state-prisoners from remote days. But none of the ex-kings under English surveillance has had to eke out his last days in a hut on the grounds of a burning-ghaut,—and to depend for his meals on the rice with which the corpses' mouths are filled.' The cost of the obsequies is now something more than 'some rice, a cubit's length of cloth, and a copper coin.'

River-side Shrines and Mansions.

6

257

The neighbourhood of Munikurnika long continued a dense jungle. Trees, built into the walls of houses, are still pointed out as veterans of that forest.' Hard by, is the temple of Bhoyrubnath-the great generalissimo of Shiva. Next is the spot of Toolsidoss' residence the Milton of Hindi, the author of the popular version of the Ramayana, who flourished here about the year 1574. The locality is classic also for the abode of many of Choitunya's followers, who were some of them very learned men-and have left behind the latest works in Sanscrit. The travels of Choitunya throw a light on the state of Benares in the fourteenth century.

Off from a boat, the large and lofty river-side shrines and mansions, rising in tier above tier, make up a gay and grand frontispiece. Their walls are richly adorned with foliage and figures of gods and giants carved in stone. They are principally the works of the piety of Mahratta princes and princesses. another of Holkar, and a third of Ahulya Baie. To the Mahrattas is the present city chiefly indebted for its foundation. It is from the time of their supremacy that its present flourishing state takes its date.

One is of Bajee Row,

Landed to see the observatory. To speak for once in the spirit of a bona-fide Hindoo, the act of getting up to the city from the river is like climbing up to a mount -Benares being fancied as the adopted Cailasa of Shiva. The Hindoo Temple of Science stands on a spot almost washed by the Ganges. It is ascended by a long flight of steps, many of which have gone out of order—so that a young tyro can practically experience here the diffi

culty of climbing the hill of science. The observatory is known by the name of Man Mundil. The origin of this name is a subject of dispute. By many it is traced to Rajah Maun-the celebrated Hindoo character of mediæval India. He is not more a historic than a heroic character having been the husband of 1500 wives, and the father of 250 children- and out-heroing thereby all the epic characters from Achilles downwards. In his old age, Rajah Maun erected the building, which presents a massive wall and projecting balcony of stone to the multitudes daily passing up and down the imperial river. He was to have spent here the evening of his life in repose and religious worship. But the court and the camp were the scenes in which he was destined to be born and to die. Nearly a century after his death, his intended residence at Benares was altered and converted into an observatory by his countryman, Rajah Jysing of Amber. Scarcely any name in Hindoo history is to be mentioned with more respect and gratitude than that of this Rajpoot prince, statesman, legislator, and warrior-who spared not any toil and expense in the cause of science, who laboured to rescue the intellectual fame of his nation from oblivion, and who practically applied his knowledge of geometry to the foundation of a city after his own name-that is the only one in India, the streets of which are bisected at right angles. Heber is wrong to suppose this observatory as founded before the Mussulman conquest.' No chance exists of identifying the spot from which observations were used to be taken in the Hindoo ages. The Man Mundil may be a