ure 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, w