Chapter 20

From Calcutta to Benares.--Miles of Poppy Fields.--Ruined Temples.--The Mecca of Hindostan.--Banks of the Sacred Ganges.--Idolatry at its Height.--Monkey Temple.--The Famous River Front of the Holy City.--Fanaticism.--Cremating the Dead.--A Pestilential City.--Visit to a Native Palace.--From Benares to Cawnpore.--A Beautiful Statue.--English Rule in India.--Delhi.--The Mogul Dynasty.--Lahore.--Umritsar.--Agra.--The Taj Mahal.--Royal Palace and Fort.--The Famous Pearl Mosque.

Calcutta is not a city calculated to detain the traveler more than four days, so we promptly got our baggage together to start for the next objective point, which was Benares, the holy city of the Hindoos, to reach which five hundred miles of central India must be traversed by rail. The route, however, lay through an extremely interesting region of country, where, notwithstanding it was still January, everything was green, and both planting and harvesting were in progress. The people appeared to be wretchedly poor, living in the most primitive mud cabins thatched with straw. Such squalor and poverty could be found nowhere else outside of Ireland, and yet we were passing through a famous agricultural district, which ought to support thrifty farm-houses and smiling villages. It abounded in rice, wheat, sugar-cane, and vast poppy fields,--treacherously beautiful,--from which the opium of commerce is derived. The presence of such abundance made the contrast in the condition of the peasantry all the more puzzling.

This part of India has ever been noted for the excellence and prolific yield of its sugar crops. From here, also, indigo and saltpetre are exported in large quantities. No tea-gardens were seen,--these were left behind in the hills,--nor had we met with coffee plantations since leaving Ceylon. All along the route we saw fruit trees in considerable variety, of such as are indigenous to central India; among these were recognized the lofty and handsome tamarinds, almonds, mangoes, oranges, and limes, interspersed with which was the graceful palm, laden with cocoanuts, and other products of the palm family. Temples centuries in age and in utter ruin came into view now and again, as they had done in the south, between Tuticorin and Madras, and here, as there, they were frequently adjacent to a cluster of low mud hovels. From the branches of the trees flitted birds of such fantastic shapes and plumage as to cause exclamations of surprise. Occasional specimens of the bird of paradise were seen, with its long and graceful tail-feathers glistening in the sun, presenting an array of bright colors never seen in confinement. The tall flamingos, in their bridal plumage, just touched with scarlet on either wing, like soldiers' epaulets, floated along the shores of the numerous ponds, scarcely clearing the ground, or they stood lazily by the bank upon one awkward leg. Parrots glanced across the vision in the bright noontide, in carnival costume; and buff-colored doves, with white rings about their necks, coquetted lovingly in couples. Of song birds there were but few, though the clear notes of the little Indian thrush now and then fell pleasantly on the ear.

As we progressed on our way, we picked up here and there, at various stations, third class passengers in considerable numbers, consisting oftentimes of whole families, in singular variety of dress, "undress," and rags, bound for Benares. They were packed in the rude cars devoted to that class, like cattle, and there they slept and ate upon the rough pine boarding. The roads of India carry these devout people at a most trifling charge, aggregating but about a half penny per mile. And yet we were told that it paid the companies very well, besides making good friends of the natives, who were originally opposed to the laying of railroad tracks; indeed, so bitter and superstitious were they, that for a long time it was necessary to guard the track by a military force, especially in these very districts of central India. It was amusing to watch the expression upon the countenances of some of these pilgrims, who stood on the platform of the depot, watching the hissing steam as it came from the engine. In their intense ignorance and superstition they believe that it contains a "fire-devil," and that it is bribed to do the required work of transportation by frequent drinks of water at the various stations! It was difficult for the more intelligent to suppress their prejudices against the introduction of the railroad into India when it was first begun; but the ignorant, superstitious masses are still believers in the supernatural character of the iron horse. No amount of explanation can disabuse their minds of the impression; they only shake their heads; but getting into the third class compartments avail themselves of the facilities all the same, even when bent, as they all are who travel, upon some devout pilgrimage.

Benares, the first large city on the united Ganges and Jumna, may be called the citadel of Hindooism, containing about one hundred and fifty thousand fixed inhabitants, and nearly as many more of floating population, composed of pilgrims, constantly coming and going. What Jerusalem is to the Jew, Rome to the Latin, Mecca to the Mohammedan, Benares is to the Hindoo. It is supposed by many to be the oldest known habitation of man in the world. Twenty-five centuries ago when Rome was unknown and Athens was in its youth, Benares was already famous. It is supported by the influx of rich and poor pilgrims from all parts of the country, whose presence gives its local trade an impetus, at certain seasons of great amount, and more or less at all times. The city is situated on the left bank of the sacred Ganges, to bathe in which insures to the devout Hindoo forgiveness of all sins, and an easy passport to the regions of the blessed. In entering the ancient capital we crossed the Ganges on a bridge of boats very similar to that at Cologne on the Rhine. As we drove through the streets troops of pilgrims, pitiable to behold, foot-sore and weary, were met coming from the Punjab a thousand miles away, simply to bow down before the local idols and to dip their bodies in the holy river. Faith must be very vigorous in these uneducated creatures to induce such sacrifice to fulfill its requirements; like superstition elsewhere, it is ever strongest in the ignorant.

These pilgrims are not all beggars or in rags. Now and then a gaudily dressed rajah may be seen, with a long line of attendants, wending his steps towards the river's front. Infirm old men and little children, crazy looking fakirs and comely youths, boys and girls, people of all ages and both sexes, were represented in the motley groups who went for moral purification to these muddy waters. There is a singular mingling of races also, for these people do not by any means speak one tongue. They are from the extreme north and the extreme south of India, while the half-starved vagrants of central India could not make themselves understood by either. A common purpose moves them, but they cannot express themselves in a common language. Pilgrims are here from Tibet and Cashmere, the far-off Himalayan country as well as from Tuticorin on the Indian Ocean. Numberless idols and symbols of the most vulgar and loathsome character abound all over the town, and along the river's front, before which men and women bow down in silent devotion. Idolatry is but the synonym of impurity, and is here seen in its most repulsive form. The delusion, however, is perfect, and these poor creatures are, beyond a doubt, terribly in earnest.

The people grovel in this idolatrous spirit, animals forming the principal subjects of worship,--such as bulls, snakes, monkeys, and pigeons. One of the peculiar temples of the city is devoted solely to the worship of monkeys, where hundreds of these mischievous animals find a luxurious home, no one ever interfering with their whims, except to feed and to pet them. This temple contains a singular altar, before which devotional rites are performed by believing visitors, who also bring food offerings for the monkeys. One of the animals during our visit was misbehaving himself, considering that he was a veritable god: rolling, tossing about, and holding on to his stomach with both paws, while he cast his eyes in an agonized manner upwards, and howled dolefully. In plain English his godship had eaten too many bon-bons and sweetmeats, and was paying the penalty from which even sacred monkeys are not exempt. Another, evidently the mother of twins, ran about with one under each arm, now and then stopping at convenient places to nurse them after a fashion ludicrously human. Adjoining the temple is a large water tank in which the monkeys are fond of bathing, their pranks in the water affording much amusement.

It is difficult to realize the mental degradation of a people controlled by a frame of mind leading them to worship these creatures; and it is equally ludicrous to recall the fact, in this connection, that the Japanese eat them. The hollow trunk of a venerable tamarind-tree was shown where all the baby monkeys are born. About the doors of this temple sat women with baskets of yellow marigold blossoms, to sell to native visitors for decorating purposes at the altar. Great use is made of this flower, which seems to be raised in large quantities for this object. Once or twice we saw these women sell a handful for a halfpenny; but it must be a sorry trade whereby to earn a living. Pigeons swarm in and about Benares enjoying a superstitious veneration and protection; while sacred bulls obstruct the passages, and the narrow, nauseous, over-crowded streets, rendering them too filthy for foot passage. Everything appears to be in a state of chronic decay; and as the city flourished twelve hundred years before Christ,--indeed may be said to have been at the zenith of its glory at that period,--it is not surprising that it should be in a tumble-down condition in our day. This very dilapidation, however, renders the river front one of the most picturesque sights imaginable. Being a British possession, there is a European quarter of the town, quite modern in aspect, ornamented with large and fine public structures, churches, post-office, and government buildings, besides some charming private residences or bungalows. But the native portion, always crowded with sacred animals, beggars, curs, and filth of every sort, seemed a very hot-bed for pestilence. In most of the native huts the light of the sun can never penetrate, and compared to them underground dungeons would be desirable residences. Our local guide told us there were over two thousand public temples and shrines in Benares, and he might have added in every stage of dirt, decomposition, and ruin. The sights to be witnessed in them were most repulsive, and yet there were some sincere votaries there. There were rogues also, a fact proven by the circumstance that the guide, native and resident here, had his pocket picked before the altar while explaining matters to our party.

As a fine characteristic view of the city is to be obtained from the river front, a boat was taken, with half a dozen oarsmen, to pull along the ghats, or flights of broad stone steps, descending to the river from the shattered old palaces, prostrate temples, and half-sunken quays, which extend in a continuous line for more than two miles along the Ganges. Here hundreds, nay thousands of people of both sexes and of all conditions, are to be seen at any hour of the day dipping and washing in the sacred waters; which ceremony to them is tangible prayer. Here was a small group gathered about a delicate invalid, who lay upon a litter, brought to the spot that she might be bathed in these waters, which it was hoped would make her whole. Here still another collection surrounded the fading and flickering lamp of life that burned dimly in the breast of age, come to die by the healing river. And close at hand, beneath that sheet, was the cold clay of one already departed, now to be consumed upon the funeral pyre and his ashes cast into the Ganges. What a picture of life and death, what a practical comment upon poor humanity! On these ghats the Hindoos pass their happiest hours, notwithstanding these sad episodes; coming from the confined, dirty, unwholesome streets in which they sleep and eat, to pray and bathe, as well as to breathe the fresh air and to bask in the sun. The hideous fakirs make their fixed lodging-places here, living entirely in the open air, in all their revolting personal deformity, diseased and filthy. Their distorted limbs fixed in every conceivable attitude of penance, their faces besmeared with white clay, and their long hair matted and clotted with dirt. There are pious fools enough to kneel before them, and to give them food and money, by which they are supported in their crazy self-immolation.

It was observed that some of the women took into the river with them short garlands of yellow and white flowers, which they seemed to count over like a Roman Catholic kneeling with her beads, and finally to break them in pieces and cast them upon the surface of the river, watching them borne away upon the tide. Each one was provided also with a small brass jar in which to carry away a portion of the sacred water, after having completed their baths, and washed their clothes therein. The people have no hesitation in drinking this water in which so many have bathed, nor in carrying it home for cooking purposes. Yet they must have, like ourselves, seen the ashes of the cremated corpses cast into it, and have observed the frequent dead bodies floating therein. One would think a single glance at the yellow, filthy hue of the water would be sufficient to debar its use; but the very name of the Ganges sanctifies everything with these mentally blind creatures. Sometimes, though this is not a frequent occurrence, a crocodile takes away a bather; but such persons are rather envied than regretted, since to die in those waters is in their estimation simply to be at once wafted to the elysian fields of paradise.

All this fanaticism, mad zeal, and credulous idolatry could not alone sustain and support a city like Benares, though it attracts millions of pilgrims annually. There must be some reasonable nucleus to form about, some occupation and industry with the semblance of common sense, something besides priestly art and cunning. Therefore, looking about us we find in her bazars the skilled product of real artisans, in the form of brass ware of such admirable finish as to monopolize the markets of the world in this line. And again, there is produced in her dark alleys and dirty lanes an article of silver gilt embroidery of unequaled excellence. Specimens of these remarkable local products are sure to be brought away by appreciative travelers, while the local demand from rich natives is very large in the aggregate. So there are many homes in this strange, idolatrous, dirty, Indian Mecca, which are supported, after all, by legitimate industry.

A bird's-eye view of the city and its environs was enjoyed by ascending to the top of the lofty minaret crowning the great Mosque of Aurungzebe, so high, that not a street or roadway could be detected by the eye in all the densely populated city. The town below appeared like one dense mass of houses, recalling the view of Milan from the pinnacle of its famous cathedral; but the streets of Benares are so narrow that it is hardly surprising to find them undistinguishable from so great a height. The palace of the Maharajah of Vizianagram was also visited, a well-appointed and elegant residence, where were to be seen some fine engravings upon the walls, representing American historical scenes, and especially an admirable portrait of Washington. An ancient observatory was of more than ordinary interest to us, erected by a famous Hindoo patron of science, Rajah Manu. Though now quite neglected and in partial ruins, a sun-dial, a zodiac, meridian line, and astronomical appliances are still distinctly traced upon heavy stones, arranged for celestial observations. This proves that astronomy was well advanced at Benares hundreds of years before Galileo was born, and it will be remembered that the astronomers of India first settled the fact of the rotation of the earth. The Man-Mundil, as this observatory is called, forms a most important historic link between the days of the Pharaohs and the nineteenth century.

Here, as in many other Eastern cities, we found men, women, and children lying down and sleeping in the streets and on the roadways, wherever fatigue overcame them,--all places were the same to them, vast numbers knowing no other home than the ground upon which they stood. And here, as in Calcutta, we saw the bodies of the dead being cremated in public, in the open air, along the river's bank, the pyres being prepared as already described. On one of the bodies brought to the funereal pile, covered with a plain sheet, it was observed that flowers had been strewn, and pale, white rose-buds were in the folded hands. It was the body of a young girl, thus decked by loving hands for her bridal of death, a token of affection and tenderness no one could fail to respect. Five or six women followed, with downcast eyes, the four men who bore the body upon a stretcher, the sad and simple cortege of one who had doubtless been well beloved, "too early fitted for a better state." Something held us riveted to the spot, though we knew very well what must follow. After a few moments the red, scorching flames wound themselves gluttonously about that youthful figure, as though reveling in their victim, and quickly all was blackness and smouldering ashes.

To such extremes do the pilgrims who visit Benares often carry their religious fanaticism, that it has been found necessary by the English government to organize a police system to prevent their deliberately drowning themselves in the sacred waters, actuated by a firm belief that their souls will be at once wafted to paradise. Women are especially prone to the crime of infanticide, imagining that they can do nothing better for their female children than to intrust them to the bosom of the Ganges, which will bear them safely to the ocean of eternity. Poor creatures! From their stand-point of poverty, with its endless deprivations and hardships, and the hopeless condition of their sex in the East, who can be surprised at the conclusion they adopt?

Jackals are the night scavengers of Indian cities, and no sooner have the inhabitants retired to rest than their hideous half-bark, half-wailing notes jar upon the ear. Even in Calcutta, a large and populous city, one is not exempt from their howlings, but in Benares they are a recognized institution, and are molested by no one. These creatures voraciously gobble up everything that is left exposed, good or bad,--vermin, decayed food, offal, every refuse,--thus rendering a certain necessary service in a climate so hot as that of India. The natives are not permitted to keep any sort of firearms, so they could not shoot the jackals if they desired to do so; but animal life is held sacred by them, and no native will spill blood except in self-defense. They seem to have no craving for animal food, supporting their bodies almost entirely upon rice. It may also be that a fellow feeling makes them kind, for they live, eat, and sleep more like wild animals than like human beings, unhoused and unclothed. The degraded condition of eight tenths of the population of India is almost incredible. Slaves to ignorance, slaves to idolatry, they are also political slaves; nor is there, so far as we can see, any better prospect for them in the near future.

Cawnpore is situated on the Ganges, about two hundred and twenty miles west of Benares, and was reached by cars over the Oude and Rohilkund Railway, the characteristics of the route being very similar to that from Calcutta to Benares. Almost the sole interest of this locality to the tourist is created by its connection with the mutiny of 1857, and the several fine monuments which commemorate the prominent features of that event. It is true that the interest in scenes where great crimes have been perpetrated is, more or less, of a morbid character. Mr. Lee, who was a subordinate officer in the English army at that memorable period, now owns and keeps, with his family, the principal hotel, acting also as an efficient guide to visiting parties. He points out the various places of special interest, giving vivid and eloquent descriptions of the sad events, in which he was himself an actor. There is something very impressive in Marochetti's noble monument over the spot which was, at the time of the mutiny, a capacious well, and into which the women and children of the English prisoners, living and dead, were cast, by order of that inhuman wretch, Nana Sahib. It forms a beautiful white marble figure of an angel, with folded wings and palm-laden hands, the eyes cast downward upon the now covered well. The ground surrounding the spot is inclosed by an iron rail, and beautified with lovely flowers, carefully tended. Already familiar with the detail of the tragic deeds enacted in this place, the locality was necessarily impressive, and notably that of the Suttee-chowra Ghat, where the final scene of the Cawnpore massacre took place.

It was a sombre, cloudy day, and some rain fell while we were driving about the extensive grounds of the English cantonment. The influence of the sad story which these monuments commemorate, the funereal aspect of the spot, the gloomy, leaden, weeping sky above us, all served to heighten the effect of the dark story of crime and blood which our guide rehearsed to us. In its palmy days, before the mutiny, two cavalry regiments and three of infantry were stationed here. To use the words of Mr. Lee: "The place was full of officers' wives, children, and pretty women. Private theatricals were given twice weekly, balls as often, and picnics and dinners constantly." It must have been a round of holidays which the English residents enjoyed, while they vied with each other in their mutual hospitalities. Alas! what a volcano they were sleeping upon; and when it burst and the hidden fire poured forth, what rivers of blood were shed from the veins of the innocent and helpless victims!

We refer to events only too well known to the world, and which do not require any rehearsal in these pages. A very complete system of barracks is established here by the English government, and the three arms of the service are fully represented by well organized European troops. The cantonment extends some five or six miles along the river, the whole as level as a billiard-table. The present masters of the country learned too bitter a lesson from the natives to ever again trust them with any military power. Formerly the English army in India was composed of as many, or more, native troops than of those purely English, and they were drilled and taught in the use of all arms. Now the native regiments which are organized are scattered about the country and placed on outpost duty, or colonial service elsewhere, but only as infantry; they will not again be intrusted with artillery. They are looked upon as performing the police duty of the army rather than as constituting a regular portion of its active force. Without actual figures to depend upon, we should say that the English troops in India to-day must aggregate between forty and fifty thousand of all arms. When we realize the awful cruelty and blood-thirstiness of the natives in the rebellion of 1857, their diabolical and deliberate murder of innocent women and children, under the most revolting circumstances, we cannot look upon them as a people striking for liberty, or worthy of it, but as a base, degraded, ignorant, and fanatical race, utterly unfit for self-government. In this light English rule in India is according to the eternal fitness of things.

One day was sufficient for us to see and understand the subjects of interest at Cawnpore, and we took passage by the East Indian Railway for Delhi, a distance of less than three hundred miles, over a very level and rather monotonous stretch of country. This city, which is located on the Jumna, also played a most important part in the great mutiny, the events of which are too fresh in the memory of the world to require special mention; but aside from those associations it has many and grand monuments to engage the attention of the traveler, connecting the ages far back of the Christian era with to-day, it having been for centuries the proudest capital of the Mogul Empire. Within a circle of twenty miles about the present city, one dynasty after another has established its capital, ruled in splendor, and passed away. Instead of occupying the same site, each has founded a new city, leaving the old to crumble into dust, scattering their debris over the plain, and telling of the mutability of human temples. All this ground is now abandoned to an army of foxes, jackals, and owls. Could this archaeological soil be plowed up, and its ancient monuments, palaces, tombs, and mosques exhumed, like the dwellings of Pompeii, what might not be revealed of the hidden past?

One monument which was visited in the environs has thus far defied the destructive fingers of time: the Katub Minar stood alone in the midst of ruins, the loftiest single column in the world, but of which there is no satisfactory record. It is not inappropriately considered one of the wonders of India, and whoever erected it achieved an architectural triumph of gracefulness and strength. It is built of red stone, elaborately finished in the form of a minaret, measuring about fifty feet in diameter at the base, and ten at the top, and is divided into five distinct parts or stories, one above another, each fitted with an outer gallery and adorned with colossal inscriptions in bold relief. The whole exterior is fluted from the bottom to the top, narrowing gradually as it ascends, and affording a good view of the present Delhi, twelve miles away, while it overlooks that broad region of dead and buried cities. Though the Katub Minar has stood for so many centuries, not the least crack in the masonry can be discovered, either inside or out. This singular tower, the original purpose of which can only be conjectured, stands near two courts of an ancient Hindoo temple, which are surrounded by ruins of cloisters. In the middle of the area, between the two lines of cloisters, stands a tall iron pillar with a Sanskrit inscription signifying so long as it remains the power of the Hindoos has not departed.

There is a legend which our local guide related to us, that the Mohammedans tried to destroy this column by digging it up, but were unable to find the bottom of it after working many days. They finally gave up the attempt in superstitious dread, for the Hindoos declare that it extends down to the earth's centre. We visited other temples and tombs, but the Katub Minar rivaled them all in interest. Among the branches of the trees, as we drove back to Delhi, we observed both wild monkeys and apes, the latter species being the first we had seen in India. Many birds were noticed, and whole flocks of pea-green paroquets, tiny things with mottled plumage, circled about the trees and chirped incessantly. On inquiry it was learned that nowhere in all India exists so much bitterness towards the English rule as is secretly indulged in here. That the populace should not be well-disposed towards their present masters is not to be wondered at; and if this community were not completely disarmed, and watchfully kept so, there would likely occur outbreaks among them of a serious character. As none but Europeans are permitted to own firearms, the game hereabouts has greatly multiplied, and some of the best bird-shooting in India goes begging on the plains about Delhi. Standing at the door of our bungalow in the early morning, it was really wonderful to see the number of crows that flew up from their roosting-places in the neighboring wood, and passed overhead dispersing in various directions; but they, as well as the jackals, are the permitted scavengers of the land, and no one thinks of molesting them.

The present city, now in its turn declining, has been a most gorgeous capital, and has twelve fortified gates in good preservation. Its principal streets are broad and full of busy life, exhibiting representatives of all the various Asiatic races. Members of our party wished to purchase a memento of Delhi, and what was there better suited to the purpose than those fine hand-woven Cashmere shawls of many firm but delicate colors, so exquisitely finished? You do not find these hundred-guinea articles displayed in open bazars, but must follow your guide under a broad archway, up steep, narrow, winding steps into the dealer's private house and shop combined. A chair is placed for each visitor, while the proprietor sits down upon a bit of Turkish carpet, cross-legged. A few formal words of welcome pass, then at a sign an attendant brings out from some mysterious corner a few shawls. The cunning Hindoo is studying you with his deep-set lustrous eyes. Not an expression of your face escapes him. He observes what pleases you best, and whether you can appreciate quality as well as looks. More shawls are ordered out from their cases, perhaps of a better grade, while your custom is all the while being quietly but shrewdly angled for, as a disciple of Izaak Walton would play with his game. You are gradually led from one piece of goods to another; your gauge as to price is adroitly discovered; and finally, with consummate judgment, a certain article, characterized by fineness, beauty, and quality, is placed before you. The moment your eyes rest upon it you are charmed. The shrewd old merchant has mentally taken your measure for this myriad-threaded beauty, and you are captivated. The price is named. "Too much," say you. But you are told that this establishment is conducted on the fixed-price principle; if cheaper goods are desired, there are those first shown to you. Why struggle? You are literally caught, and may as well surrender. So this exquisite article from far-off Cashmere is folded up and intrusted to the guide. The gold is counted, and you receive a salaam, as you depart, which might have been accorded to the Queen of Sheba.

In the broad main thoroughfare of Delhi,--the Chandni Chowk,--one constantly meets ponderous elephants, solemn and awkward camels, fine Arabian horses, and the diminutive toy-like pony of Cashmere. Daily marriage processions of the most fantastic description crowd the passage-way, with the animals just named, caparisoned in the most gaudy and harlequin style, accompanied by unskilled musicians, whose qualifications evidently consist in being able to make the greatest amount of noise upon a drum, fife, or horn, which are the three instruments that are employed on these occasions. Some of the white horses in these processions are partially painted sky-blue, some saffron-yellow. In the ranks are covered bullock carts with peep-holes, in which ride the women of the harem. Mingled with these are men bearing banners with Hindoo mottoes and ludicrous characters, half human and half animal, painted thereon. This was called a marriage procession, but upon inquiry it was found to be only a betrothal of children too young to marry. The boy, bridegroom in embryo, appeared upon an elephant, and was dressed like a circus-rider; but the future bride, probably a little girl of six or eight years, did not appear. She remained at home, to be called upon by this motley crowd, when a brief ceremony would take place, presents be exchanged, and the farce would then be ended.

A visit to the palace of the late King of Delhi was full of interest, exhibiting evidences of elegance and splendor almost beyond belief. Here are still to be seen the remains of that famous Peacock Throne, the marvel of the world when the Mogul dynasty was at its zenith,--a throne of solid gold, six feet long and four feet broad, surmounted by a gold canopy supported by twelve pillars composed of the same precious metal. The back of the throne was so made as to represent a peacock with expanded tail, the natural colors of which were exactly imitated with rubies, sapphires, diamonds, and other precious stones, the aggregated value of the whole being over thirty millions of dollars. And this was not an isolated case, an exception, but only an example of the lavish expenditures of the Mogul emperors. They used choice stones, gems, gold, and silver, with precious marbles, in mosaic work, as freely as modern rulers employ bricks and mortar. Their revenues were practically unlimited, and their expenditures were of the same character. The country was one of the richest in the world, but the wealth was in the hands of the few, and the poor were all the poorer in proportion, being taxed to the extremest possible point, and compelled to give free labor to all such enterprises, as the ruling power might dictate.

The Grand Mosque at Delhi is one of the best preserved and most remarkable of her monuments. It has three domes of noble proportions, a hundred and fifty feet in height, surrounded by minarets, the whole structure standing upon an elevated platform accessible by broad marble steps. It is known as the Jumna Musjid, and is conceded to be the finest of which Islamism can boast, owing its construction to that grand builder of tombs, palaces, and mosques, Shah-Jehan,--the creator of the Taj, that poem in marble at Agra, the glory and pride of India. The Jumna Musjid is built principally of red stone, but is freely inlaid with white marble, and as a whole is very impressive and Oriental in feeling.

The Hindoos claim for their country even a greater antiquity than do the Chinese, but there is probably nothing authentic relating to the early history of this people prior to the time of Alexander the Great, say four hundred years before Christ. Of one thing we are positive, that the reign of the Mogul emperors exceeded in splendor all that the world has ever seen outside of Hindostan. Indeed, it was their great wealth, so lavishly displayed, which first challenged European cupidity. We have said the Delhi of to-day is in its turn declining. It has never recovered from the blow it received a century since, inflicted by Nadir Shah, who pillaged the city and carried away, in gold and precious stones, treasures estimated at over a hundred million sterling! Among his prizes on that occasion was the famous Koh-i-noor diamond, since "appropriated" by the English; and which to-day forms a part of Queen Victoria's crown jewels. It will not do to analyze too closely by what means this was brought about. What a romantic history would the true story of that "Mountain of Light" prove, could it be honestly written.

Nature does not exhibit the usual dividing lines in this region as regards the seasons of the years. Flowers are always in bloom in the open fields and gardens, trees ever putting forth their leaves, and perpetual youth is evinced by the entire vegetable kingdom. No winter, spring, or autumn is known to the Indian calendar, the year being divided only into hot, rainy, and temperate seasons. Though it was the last of January while we were in Delhi, only summer clothing was worn; outside garments were not thought of, the thermometer ranging about 68 deg. Such temperature admits of a series of crops tri-annually, if the husbandman chooses thus to time his planting and harvesting,--which processes indeed appear to be going on all the year round. The women were seemingly of rather a coarser type than those we had lately met, and were found working much in the fields, as well as performing a large share of the out-door labor. There is a new canal, with locks, etc., now in course of construction in the environs of Delhi, where men, women, and boys were seen employed in about equal numbers, aggregating some hundreds, carrying dirt and bricks in baskets upon their backs, as well as digging, shoveling, and performing similar work. The guide informed us that the men received as wages twelve cents, the women ten, and the boys eight cents per day of ten hours. We must, however, again refer to the fact that the purchasing power of these sums is much greater than with us, say at least treble; still they are terribly low wages. Perhaps there is no better criterion of judgment as to the true domestic condition of any people, than the current value at which a man's labor is estimated. As to the common class of women in India, kept as all are in the most absolute subjection and ignorance, a more hopeless state than theirs cannot be conceived of. They are divided into two classes, the favored and the humble. The former are treated as toys, the latter as slaves.

The last journey from Cawnpore to Delhi was made by night, so again we were obliged to take the cars on the Scinde, Punjab, and Delhi road for Lahore at nine o'clock P. M., crossing the Jumna almost immediately after starting. The distance from Delhi to Lahore is about three hundred and fifty miles. Traveling, even by rail, in India is still accomplished on primitive principles, and, mostly in the hours of the night. Such bedding as one indulges in must be taken along with the other personal baggage. A pillow and blanket are absolute necessities, and anything beyond these two domestic articles is considered a luxury. With even these slight accompaniments and plenty of fatigue, one is apt to fall asleep and make the best of it, whether upon the stone floor of a bungalow or in an upright position in the oscillating cars. Lahore is the capital of the Punjab, being one of the most ancient and famous cities of the country, and was flourishing and populous at the time of Alexander's invasion. Here are the headquarters of a large division of British troops, the red coats besprinkling every street and roadway. Its history is interwoven with every Mohammedan dynasty of northern India, having been founded almost two thousand years ago.

There is a museum of special local interest where are gathered and well classified specimens of the natural products, industries, native gems, minerals, animals, and birds throughout the Punjab, well worth a few hours of examination and study. Opposite the museum building there was observed, in the centre of an open plot of ground, a large, long cannon mounted, and of Indian manufacture, over a century in age. It was used by Ahmed Shah in the battle of Paniput and is famous among the populace by the name of "Zamazamah." There are also mosques, mausoleums, and forts to be visited, all attractive, with some curious ruins of old palaces and Hindoo temples, to all of which we paid due attention, but a detailed account of which would hardly interest the general reader. In the better part of the town the streets are broad and lined by two-story houses--a style not very common in India. From the ornamental balconies, and projecting windows framed in lattice-work, the women of the harems looked out upon us, with their faces partially covered, but yet taking care to exhibit a profusion of jewelry, having three or four large loops of gold in each ear, as well as nose-rings, outdoing in glitter their sisters of Penang.

The few women to be met with in the streets had their bare feet thrust into the tiniest of pink kid slippers, far too small for them, their ankles covered with broad gold rings, five or six deep, coming up to the calf. Their bare arms showed the wrists covered with bracelets of gold and silver alternately, nearly to the elbow; and above the elbow was a broad gold band. Some of them were so covered with rings, bracelets, bangles, and necklaces as to amount to itinerant jewelry bazars. The etiquette of these women, some of whom were scarcely out of their teens, appeared to be, in the first place, to cover the face above the chin, except the eyes, and then to expose as much of their bodies as could effectively bear jewelry, including necklaces of either imitation or real stones hanging down over the bosom. Add to the whole a reckless disregard for natural delicacy, and you have a Lahore belle of to-day as she appears on the street. We saw nowhere else in India such freedom and publicity permitted to inmates of the harem. Girls are frequently married here at twelve years, and the number of wives a man may possess, in any part of India, is only limited by his purse.

Elephants of greater size than the famous Jumbo, and also camels, enter into common, every-day use here as do donkeys and horses in European cities; but such horses as one sees at Lahore are generally very fine creatures, of the true Arab breed, with faces almost human in intelligence. These animals are at the same time high-spirited and gentle, with forms that are the very ideal of equine grace and beauty. Round bodies, arching necks, small heads and limbs, large eyes and nostrils, with full mane and tail. Lahore is a place of more than usual interest to the traveler, as exhibiting much of the peculiar and inner life of India. We were particularly attracted by public and, private flower-gardens, fruit orchards, and ornamental trees, disposed in such an excellent manner as to give the general effect of a finely and naturally-wooded country; and yet we were told that before the English took possession and built up the European quarter, Lahore was only a city surrounded by sterile fields, and absolutely without a tree, ornamental or otherwise, within its extended borders. The orchards and gardens referred to are those of European residents. Among the exotics we observed the Australian gum-tree and the Chinese tallow-tree, large and thrifty in both instances. Lahore was also the only place in India where we saw mulberry-tree orchards. Like Delhi, the city presents many evidences of its former splendor, with ruins still architecturally grand and beautiful, though rapidly mouldering to dust.

We heard of excellent educational results growing out of missionary efforts at Lahore, and it is really in this direction that the most good will be accomplished. As regards religious converts, they are few and far between, and of very little account when apparently made; but in cultivating the intelligence of the people, a great and good work is being performed, one which must eventually shake the fabric of heathen mythology to its very centre. An idolatrous people must come from the ranks of ignorance,--from a priest-ridden race. When the Hindoo is capable of thinking and reasoning for himself, he no longer believes in the idol-gods of his fathers. The preaching of this or that special faith is of little avail, and to us seems to be the least of all missionary work. The true object is comprised in the single effort of enlightenment. Education is the great Christianizer for India. People of culture will not bow down before graven images, nor worship bulls and monkeys.

Umritsar, the sacred city of the Sikhs, our next stopping-place, is less than forty miles from Lahore, and is a walled city of nearly two hundred thousand inhabitants, composed mostly of Sikhs, Hindoos, Mohammedans, and Cashmiris. The principal attraction of the city to strangers is the famous Golden Temple, so called because the cupola is covered with a thin layer of the precious metal, having the same effect as that of the dome of the Invalides at Paris, or that of the Boston State House. Five hundred priests are attached to this temple, and are constantly performing ceremonies, which, to an uninitiated person, seem like utter nonsense, and want of purpose. By the side of the temple is a very large tank covering three acres or more of ground, supplied by neighboring springs; and though it is constantly bathed in by thousands of pilgrims, and has no visible outlet, was still clear and sweet, which fact the natives attribute to some miraculous intervention. This lake is called Amrita Saras, or the Fountain of Immortality, hence the name of the city. There are other mosques and public gardens of interest, and the traveler should not forget to visit one or more of the shawl manufactories, where the famous Indian article is woven by hand in a most primitive loom worked by two persons. Another specialty is the manufacture of perforated ivory goods, which are brought to great perfection and are in quick demand for foreign markets.

As we passed through an open square near the Golden Temple a dry goods auction was in progress, for the disposal of under-clothing, which seemed like sending warming-pans to the West Indies, since no native wears such articles. A Jew was the auctioneer, and was evidently selling at very low prices to get rid of the goods, for the poor people purchased and handed them about as curiosities. The scene occurred on the high stone steps leading up to a temple, and among the crowd a little girl of four or five years was thrown down the steps, cutting a severe gash on her forehead. With the usual dullness of ignorance, a crowd gathered about the now insensible child, frightened at the sight of blood, while the mother stood inert, where the child lay upon the ground, her own agonized features and clasped hands forming a picture of despair. No experienced traveler will be without sticking-plaster, and for us to pick up the child, wash out the wound, draw the lips carefully together and secure them, binding up the bruised head in a handkerchief, was the work of only a few moments. We were simply compensated by the reviving smile of the little sufferer; but it was impossible to prevent the grateful mother from lying prone upon the ground and kissing our feet.

From Umritsar to Agra is four hundred and fifty miles. One night and day of uninterrupted travel brought us to its interesting borders, where we found a large and well-conducted hotel--one of the best we had chanced upon in the country. This journey was through the plains of middle India, and afforded some attractive and quite varied scenery, including large sugar plantations in full stalk, thrifty mango groves, tall palm-trees, orange-trees with their golden fruit, and far-reaching, graceful fields of waving grain, mingled with thrifty patches of the castor bean. These objects were interspersed with groups of cattle and goats tended by herdsmen, who often stood leaning on long poles in picturesque attitudes, wrapped about in flowing, sheet-like robes of white cotton, relieved by a scarlet belt and yellow turban. These men and their surroundings formed just such figures as a painter would delight to throw into a picture, with the animals feeding in the background. Now and again a group of minarets, with a central dome, would come into view on the horizon, breaking the deep blue of the sky with their dark shadows; or a ruined temple was seen close at hand, charred and crumbled by the wear of the elements for centuries.

India abounds in these forsaken and half-decayed shrines, once, no doubt, centres of busy life and religious ceremonials. Tall cranes, pelicans, ibises, and other large water-birds rose occasionally from the ponds, and fanned themselves slowly away. On portions of the road the telegraph wires, running parallel with the track, were covered with tiny birds of indigo-blue, decked with long slim tail-feathers. As we passed, they would rise in clouds, circle about for a moment, and again settle upon the wires where they had been roosting. Little clusters of rice-birds, scarcely larger than butterflies, floated like colored vapor over the fields, glistening in the warm sunlight. Wild peacocks were seen feeding near the rails, but not in populous districts. In the early gray of the morning, more than once on the lonely plains, a tall, gaunt wolf was observed coolly watching the passing train, or loping swiftly away. Camels were seen in long strings, with their loads protruding on either side, slowly moving over the country roads; while an occasional elephant, with half a dozen people upon its capacious back, served to vary the ever-changing panorama.

Our course was nearly due south, so that we felt an increased rise in the temperature from hour to hour. As before remarked, it was a surprise to see how many of the poor people availed themselves of the railroad. The third class cars were thronged with them going to Benares, or some other holy place, on religious pilgrimages; which, indeed, appears to be the one absorbing idea of their lives. It was not unusual to see two hundred of these pilgrims, composed of both sexes and of all ages, enter the cars from some small station. Though these people wear the scantiest of clothing, yet they affect strong contrasts in colors, which will give picturesqueness even to rags. The third class cars of an Indian railroad are little better than our cattle cars in America; and these natives were hustled into them and locked up, much after the style of loading live stock in Illinois.

Agra, which, like Delhi, stands not on the Ganges, but on its great tributary, the Jumna, is an important city, fully as populous as Lahore; and though its history is rather vague, still there are tangible evidences carrying it back more than a thousand years, while some authorities claim for it a much greater antiquity. Its modern history is interwoven with the great mutiny, and our local guide wearied us by expatiating volubly upon the subject. To all who come hither, the first great object of interest will be the Taj Mahal, or tomb of the wife of Emperor Shah-Jehan, the most interesting building in India, and perhaps the most beautiful in the world. A tomb in this country means a magnificent structure of marble, with domes and minarets, the walls inlaid with precious stones, and the whole surrounded by gardens, fountains, and artificial lakes, covering from ten to twenty acres. Cheap as labor is in India, the Taj must have cost some fifteen millions of dollars, and was seventeen years in building. The Mogul Emperor resolved to erect the most superb monument ever reared to commemorate a woman's name, and he certainly succeeded, for in his effort Mohammedan architecture reached its acme. The mausoleum is situated in a spacious garden, the equal of which can hardly be found elsewhere, beautiful to the eye, and delightful to the senses with fragrant flowers, exotic and indigenous, of every hue, and in endless variety, embracing acres of roses, "each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book." These are softly shaded by trees scarcely less beautiful than themselves. The whole scene is reflected in lakes of clearest water, from which scores of fountains throw up pearly jets in the dazzling sunshine the livelong day and through the still watches of the night. This grand structure, with the ripeness of centuries upon it, is no ruin; there is no neglect in or about the Taj and its gardens. All is fresh, fragrant, and perfect as at the hour when it was completed.

The edifice, which is of white marble, a material retaining its snow-like purity for centuries in this climate, is embellished with domes, colonnades, towers, and all the pomp, finish, and lavishness of Eastern architecture. It stands upon a stone platform of the same material, from three to four hundred feet square, to reach the surface of which one ascends about twenty steps. On the back of this platform runs a marble balustrade overlooking the Jumna. On each corner of the terrace is a marble minaret about a hundred and forty feet in height, of fine proportions, like four sentinels placed there to guard the mausoleum, which forms the centre of the platform. Two mosques, built of red sandstone, stand between these minarets, one on the east and one on the west side. The height of the Taj from the base to the top of the dome must be very nearly or quite three hundred feet. The principal dome in itself is eighty feet high, and of such exquisite form and harmony is the whole, that it seems almost to float in the atmosphere. Agate, sapphire, jasper, and other precious stones are wrought into flowers, and inlaid upon the polished marble, the work having employed the best artists for years. In the centre of the edifice, beneath the glorious dome, are two sarcophagi covering the resting-place of the emperor and his wife, whose bodies are in the vault below. How appropriate the inscription at the threshold: "To the Memory of an Undying Love." On the surrounding grounds are the fragrant blossoms of nature; within are flower-wreaths of mosaic blooming in jasper, carnelian, and lapis-lazuli, fresh and bright as when they came from the artist's hand centuries ago. As we stood beneath the arched roof of the cupola, beside the pure white tombs of glistening marble, a verse from Longfellow's "Psalm of Life" was repeated in a low tone of voice. Instantly there rolled through the dimly-lighted vault above a soft and solemn repetition, which sounded as though voices were repeating the psalm in the skies, with such music and pathos as to dim our eyes with tears. The delicate echo beneath the dome of the Taj, just above where sleep the royal ashes, is one of its most remarkable and thrilling mysteries.

This superb exposition of architectural perfection was visited first in the glow of sunrise, again in the golden haze of sunset, and once under the fiery blaze of midday. It is only beneath an intensely blue sky that one can realize the full and exquisite effect of pure white marble. Nothing finer or more lovely in architecture exists than this faultless monument, this ideal of Saracenic art, in all its rich harmony, erected by an Indian emperor to the memory of his favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal, which signifies the "Chosen of the Palace." The Taj leaves an undying impression of beauty on all beholders, and certainly in this instance beauty outvalues utility. Shakespeare might well have written of sermons in stones had he seen the Taj. The marble and red sandstone came from Rajpootana, the diamonds and jaspers from the Punjab, the carnelians and agates from Tibet, the corals from Arabia, the sapphires and other precious stones from Ceylon, and the genius that combined them all came from Heaven. Madame de Stael never saw this gem of India, and yet she said that architecture was frozen music. Emerson would have called it a blossoming in stone.

The Palace of Akbar is within the famous fort of Agra, a couple of miles from the Taj, the other side of the Jumna, a structure of such magnitude as to form almost a city within itself, measuring two miles around its walls. Those walls, over fifty feet in height, are of red sandstone, with towers at intervals, and a deep moat. It is situated on the banks of the river, with which its vaults have an underground communication. We were shown one dark and gloomy cellar far below the level of the fort, known as the execution room, where the criminals, condemned in the Judgment Hall above, received their punishment. The headsman's block was still there, and certain dark stains were pointed out to us by means of the candle carried by the guide, which told their own story. In the centre of this dreary vault was a well whose water was level with the river, into which it opened some twenty feet from the surface, and into which the decapitated bodies of the criminals were cast and left to float away with the ebb and flow of the Jumna's tide. The bed of the river showed that at certain seasons it must be at least half a mile in width, but it was a meagre stream when we crossed it that bright and sunny February day.

The royal apartments within the palace are being restored at present, and many skilled workmen were busy upon the frescoes, inlaid stone work, and delicate marble ornamentations, while we were there. The Grotto of Glass, as the principal bath-room designed for the use of the harem is called, was a curious and luxurious marble room, with inviting pure white marble tanks large enough to swim in, and surrounded by tiny glass mirrors let into the walls at such angles as to reflect a figure myriads of times, quite distracting to look upon. All departments of this remarkable royal residence are exquisitely finished, showing no less of refined, artistic taste, than of lavish expenditure. The courts, chambers, boudoirs, fountains, pavilions, reception halls, throne room, all are of marble and mosaic, with beautiful inlaid work everywhere. Many of the floors represented delicate vines and blooming flowers in precious stones, like the modern Florentine mosaic work one sees in such perfection wrought upon tallies at the shops that line the Arno in Florence. The Jewel Chamber, and the suite of apartments formerly devoted to the use of the harem, were curiously screened by a lattice work of white marble, lace-like in effect, and a curiosity in itself. Delicate carving could hardly be carried to more minute finish in alabaster. The marble inches and pockets, for holding the jewelry of the fair occupants, were so arranged that none but a delicate arm could reach the treasures; a man's hand and wrist would be too large; while the stone pockets, being curved at the bottom, required the long sensitive fingers of the owner's hand to extract what they contained.

These apartments all overlooked, by means of exquisite little marble balconies, the grand valley of the Jumna, through which the river may be traced for miles; while on the opposite shore there lies the glorious Taj, with its snow-white domes and minarets looming above the lovely setting of cypresses, and the luxurious vegetation of its surrounding gardens. Within the fort is also the Pearl Mosque, the rival of the little royal temple of similar character which we had seen at Delhi. The front of this Moli Musjed is supported by marble pillars, and is surmounted by three beautiful marble domes, of such perfection and loveliness of outline as to be the puzzle of modern architects, just as our best sculptors are nonplused before the Venus of Milo, and some other examples of Greek art; they may imitate, but they cannot hope to equal them. "Indeed," said a well-known artist to us in the gallery of the Louvre, in presence of this marvelous creation, "the sculptor himself, were he living, could not repeat his work. It was a ray of inspiration caught from Heaven." So we thought of the Moli Musjed.

The Tomb of Akbar at Secundra was visited, a few miles from Agra. It is situated, like most other Mogul buildings of the same period, in a large inclosure laid out as a beautiful garden, with fountains, lakes, statuary, tamarind-trees, oranges, lemons, among the most fragrant flowers. It was a glorious day on which we drove out to Secundra, the air was musical with the merry notes of the minos, in their dusky red plumage, the little chirping bee-eaters, hoopoes, and blue-jays. Some little girls freely plucked the abundant rose-buds, pinks, lemon verbenas, and geraniums, bringing them to us for pennies, instigated by the gardeners, who looked on approvingly. This magnificent tomb would be a seven days' wonder in itself, were it not so near that greater charm and marvel of loveliness, the Taj. It was from this grand architectural structure that the Koh-i-noor was taken. The spacious grounds form one of the finest parks in India, art having seconded the kindly purpose of nature in a favored spot where vegetation is as various as it is luxuriant and beautiful.

Our hotel at Agra was one of the most comfortable and American-like which can be found in India. The scene on the broad piazza, all day long, was curious and interesting, forming a sort of open bazar, where every establishment in the place had a representative and samples of its goods. All tourists are presumed to have come to purchase, and importunity is a part of the natives' business. Photographs, models of the Taj, precious stones, sandal-wood boxes, mosaics, and swords, the variety is infinite, the patience of the dealers equally inexhaustible. Nothing but absolute force could drive them away, and no one uses that. If you utterly decline to purchase anything, they fold their hands and wait. The most curious part of the business, if you purchase at all, is the elastic character of the prices, since no one pretends to pay that which is first charged, the dealer does not expect it, and the running fire of barter, chaffing, and cheapening is most laughable. The vendor begins by asking at least double what he will finally offer his goods for, and in the end probably gets twice their intrinsic value. If one of the natives were to offer his articles at a fixed and reasonable valuation, he would be mobbed on the spot by his companions. Dickering is the poetry of trade to a Hindoo.