figure. The gay, cheerful aspect of the votaries, with their garlands of flowers and brazen urns of water, recalled to my mind the Eleusinian Festivals of Greece, and the words of Schiller's Hymn flashed into my memory:

"Windet zum Kranze die goldenen Ehren!'

We afterwards went down to the Ganges, and wandered along, past shattered palaces, sunken quays, temples thrown prostrate, or leaning more threateningly than the belfry of Pisa, through a wilderness of fantastic and magnificent forms, watching the crowds bathing in the reeking tanks, or the open waters of the river. Broad stone ghauts (flights of steps) covered the bank, rising from the river to the bases of stately buildings, fifty or sixty feet above. The Ganges here makes a broad bend to the northward, and from these ghauts, near the centre, we saw on either hand the horns of the crescent-shaped city, with their sweeps of temples, towers, and minarets glittering in the sun. A crowd of budgerows, or river boats, were moored all along the bank, or slowly moved, with white sails spread, against the current. The bathers observed the same ceremonies as I had noticed at Allahabad, and were quite decorous in their movements, the men retaining the dhotee, or cotton cloth twisted about the loins. The Hindoos are greatly shocked by the English soldiers, who go naked to the embraces of the Goddess Gunga-not from that circumstance as connected with bathing, but as a want of respect to the holy stream. I finished my visit to the city, by taking a boat and slowly floating down the Ganges in front of it, until its confused array of palaces, and ghauts, and golden spires was indelibly daguerreotyped upon my memory.

The necessity of reaching Calcutta in time for the Hong Kong steamer of the last of February, obliged me to refuse an invitation to a week's tiger-hunting in the jungles of the Vindhya Hills-a prospect which I did not relinquish without regret. I thereupon made preparations for my last "garree-dawk" of 430 miles, with a pleasant prospect of a bruised head or broken bones, for after so many narrow escapes, I decided that I either bore a charmed life, or my share of injury was near at hand.

CHAPTER XII.

CALCUTTA.

It was nearly midnight, on the 16th of February, when I left a genial company of Benares residents, and started on my lonely journey to Calcutta. My conductor did not pass through the city, but drove around it to Raj Ghaut, five miles distant. The horse was unharnessed, the carriage dragged down the bank by coolies, and deposited on a ferry-boat. I stretched myself comfortably on the mattrass, propped against a carpet-bag, and looked out on the beautiful moonlit river. No spice-lamps, set afloat by amorous Hindoo maidens, starred the silvery smoothness of the tide. Alas, I fear that the poetry of the Indian world is in a rapid decline. There was no sound during our passage but the light dip of oars, and the shores, faintly touched by the rays of the setting moon, were wrapped in the hush of slumber. Thus, with a solemn, scarcely perceptible motion, I was ferried across the sacred river.

A plank road led over the sandy flats on the opposite side, and my horse required the assistance of half-a-dozen coolies, to reach the level of the cultivated land. We rolled on at a lively pace through the night, and the rising sun found me at Durgowtee, thirty-six miles from Benares. Here a handsome suspension bridge crosses the river Karamnasa, the waters of which are so unholy as to destroy the whole merit of a journey to Benares, should they touch the pilgrim's feet. The bridge was built by a late Rajah of Benares, to prevent the thousands of pilgrims who pass along this road, from forfeiting the reward of their devotion. Notwithstanding this act of pious charity, the Rajah was so unpopular among his people, that they considered it very unlucky to mention his name before breakfast. The country was still a dead level, and though dry at this season, is marshy during the rains. The last season had injured the road greatly, so that, for a distance of twenty or thirty miles, but little of it was passable. A rough temporary track had been made beside it, and hundreds of workmen were employed in constructing bridges over the nullas, and repairing the embankments. The country, at first almost bare of trees, and covered with but moderate crops, gradually became warmer and richer in its aspect. The vegetation increased in luxuriance, and the profusion of the brab palm spoke of the neighborhood of the tropics. The villages were shaded with huge banyans, peepuls, and other umbrageous trees. The Vindhya Mountains appeared blue and distant in the south-west, and a nearer range in front marked my approach to the Soane River.

The landscape reminded me more of Egypt than any other part of India. There was the same summer richness in the foliage of the trees, the same vivid green in the broad fields of wheat and barley, then fast ripening, and the same luxury of colour in the patches of blossoming poppy. But the air, instead of the crystalline purity of the Egyptian atmosphere, was steeped in a glowing blue vapour-softened by a filmy veil of languor and repose. The sun poured down a summer glow, though a light breeze now and then run over the fields, and rolled along the road in clouds of whirling dust. Notwithstanding my lazy enjoyment of the scenery, I found my appetite gradually becoming sharper, and was not sorry to reach the large town of Sasseram, where I halted at the bungalow long enough to procure an afternoon_breakfast. Resuming my journey, I reached the banks of the Soane River about five o'clock. The mountains on the left, which follow its course, cease at the distance of some miles from the road, whence they have the appearance of a long bluff promontory, projecting into the sea. In advance of the last headland rises an isolated peak with a forked top, precisely as I have seen a craggy island standing alone, off the point of a cape. There seems to me to be no doubt that Central and Southern India at one time constituted an immense island, separated from the main land of Asia by a sea whose retrocession gave to the light the great plains of Hindostan and the Indus.

The Soane is believed to be the Erranoboas of the old Greek geographers, and at this junction with the Ganges they located the great city of Palibothra. He has a royal bed in which to roll his waters, which were then shrunken to a shallow flood by the dry season. Standing on the western bank, the channel stretched away before me to a breadth of nearly four miles a waste of bare yellow sand, threaded by the blue arms of the river. Here and there companies of men and oxen dotted its surface, and showed the line of the ford. The tents of those who were waiting to cross on the morrow were pitched on the bank, and the gleam of fires kindled near them shone out ruddily as the sun went down. It was a grand and impressive scene, notwithstanding its sombre and monotonous hues. I paid an official of some kind two rupees, after which my horse was unharnessed, and three yoke of oxen attached to the garree. Descending to the river bank a short distance above, the garree was put upon a ferry-boat, to be taken across the deepest part, while the bullocks were driven through to await us on the other side. The main stream is about half-a-mile wide, and beyond it lie alternate beds of sand, and small, fordable arms of the river. We moved at a snail's pace, on account of the depth of the sand. While in the midst of one of the deepest channels, the water reaching to the body of the garree, one of the oxen twisted his head out of the yoke and darted off. There was great plunging and splashing on the part of the natives for a few minutes, but they succeeded in

recovering him, and at length, after a passage of more than two hours, we attained firm earth on the opposite side.

In spite of the lovely moonlight, I shut up the garree, and courted slumber. I passed a tolerable night, and at daybreak reached Shergotty, one hundred and thirty miles from Benares. The country, for ten miles after leaving that town, was level and gloriously rich. The wheat and barley were taking on their golden harvest hue, and the plantations of poppy sparkled in the sun like sheets of freshly-fallen snow. The villages were frequent, thickly settled, and had a flourishing air. The road still swarmed with Hindoo pilgrims, returning from Benares and Alahabad, almost every one carrying his two jars of Ganges water. At the stations I was assailed by clamorous beggars of all ages and sexes. The troops of coolies on the road were also annoying, by laying hold of the garree at the difficult places, running with it half-a-mile, and then demanding backsheesh. They made a ridiculous feint of pushing with all their strength, although I could see that there was not the least strain on their muscles, and constantly cried out, with much energy: "Push away there-a great lord is inside!

I was now in the hilly province of Behar, where the country becomes more undulating, and the cultivation more scanty. A chain of mountains which had been visible for some time in front, began to enclose me in their jungly depths. The road still continued good, the ascents being gradual, and the nullas crossed by substantial bridges. The hills were covered with jungle to their very summits, and the country on either hand, as far as I could see, was uncultivated. The people had a wild, squalid look, and showed evidence of different blood from the race of the plains. I halted in the afternoon at the bungalow of Dunwah for my single daily meal, and while waiting for it, a garree drawn entirely by coolies came up the road from the Calcutta side. The traveller, it seemed, had intentions similar to mine, for his coolies brought him to the bungalow, and I soon heard his voice in the next room, ordering tea and "moorghee grill" (broiled chicken). While I was employed on my own meal, he came in to see who I was, and we were both surprised to find that we had been fellow-passengers on board the Haddington, and had parted company at Suez, more than

two months before.

Leaving Dunwah, I had two chokees of gradual ascent, among hills covered with jungle, and then reached, as I thought, the dividing ridge, and anticipated a corresponding descent; in place. whereof, a level table-land, dotted with detached mountain groups, opened before me as far as the eye could reach. Though thinly inhabited, the soil appeared to be fertile, and the air was purer than on the plains of the Ganges. It was a wild, romantic region, and gave me the idea of a country just beginning to be reclaimed from a state of nature. One would scarcely expect to find hundreds

I

of miles of such land, coexistent with the dense population of other parts of India. Yet, during my travels, I saw a vast deal of waste and uncultivated territory. Were all its resources developed, the country would support at least double its present population.

The sunset was beautiful among those woody ranges, and the full moonlight melted into it so gently that it seemed to arrest and retain the mellow lustre and soothing influences of twilight. At a chokee which I reached soon after dusk, the people represented to me that the road beyond was mountainous, and that two coolies would be necessary, in addition to the horse. "Well," said I, "let two of you come." I waited in vain for the hills, however, for we went forward at a full gallop, the whole distance. Looking behind to see whether this increase of speed was occasioned by the coolies, I discovered those two gentlemen comfortably seated on the rumble, wirh their legs dangling in the air, while every few minutes they uttered cries of such energy, that one would have supposed they were straining every nerve with the violence of their efforts. When we reached the station, they came up boldly and demanded their pay, whereupon I retorted by asking pay of them for their conveyance. They slunk away, quite chap-fallen at my discovery of their trickery.

At dawn the next morning, I reached a town called Topeechanchee. Beyond this point the mountains gradually receded on either hand, and at last appeared only as isolated peaks, rising from the plain. Near Gyra, there is a lofty single peak, celebrated as being the sacred hill of the Jains, who are said to have five temples on the summit. None of them are visible from the road. The natives I met in this part of Behar differed considerably in appearance from the Hindoos of the plains, and probably belonged to the aboriginal tribes who are still found among those hills. The head is much larger and longer, in proportion to the size of the body, which is short, thick, and muscular. Several German missionaries have located themselves in this region, and are said to have had considerable success in their labours for the conversion of these wild tribes.

During the forenoon I was overtaken by a green garree, in which sat two ladies. As it approached, I heard a shrill voice urging on the driver, who lashed his horse into a gallop, and as the vehicle passed, the elder lady thrust her head out of the window, and nodded to me with an air of insolent triumph. She had a decidedly red face, diversified with freckles, keen gray eyes, a nose with a palpable snub, and a profusion of coarse hair, of a colour which I will charitably term auburn. It was rather humiliating to be passed in the race by a female of that style of beauty, but I did not dispute her triumph. After leaving Gyra I journeyed all the afternoon over an undulating upland, covered with jungle and crossed by broken chains of hills, which sank into long, regular,