uths from ear to ear, big idols, little
idols, the worst omnium gatherum imaginable. Sati, nothing visible but
her curious silver face, beams over a black mother-hubbard sort of gown
that conceals whatever she may possess in the way of a body; Jagaddatri,
the Mother of the World, with four arms, seated on a lion; Brahma, with
five eyes and four mouths, curiously made to supply quadruple faces.
Karn-adeva, the handsome little God of Love (the Hindoo Cupid), whom the
cruel Siva once slew with a beam from his third eye--all these and
multitudinous others greet the curious sight-seer whichever way he turns.
Hanuman, too, is not forgotten, the great Monkey King who aided Kama in
his expedition to Ceylon; outside the city proper is the monkey temple,
where thousands of the sacred anthropoids do congregate and consider
themselves at home. Then there is the fakirs' temple, the most
beautifully carved shivala in Benares; here priests distribute handfuls
of soaked grain to all mendicants who present themselves. The grain is
supplied by wealthy Hindoos, and both priests and patrons consider it a
great sin to allow a religious mendicant to go away from the temple
empty-handed.

Conspicuous above all other buildings in the city is the mosque of
Aurungzebe, with its two shapely minarets towering high above everything
else. The view from the summit of the minarets is comprehensive and
magnificently lovely; the wonderful beauty of the trees and shivalas, the
green foliage, and the gilt and red temples, so beautifully carved and
gracefully tapering; the broad, flowing Ganges, the busy people, the
moving boats, the rajahs' palaces along the water-front, make up a truly
beautiful panorama of the Sacred City of the Hindoos. From here we take a
native boat and traverse the water-front to see the celebrated bathing
ghauts and the strange, animated scene of pilgrims bathing, bodies
burning, and swarms of people ascending and descending the broad flights
of steps. How intensely eager do these dusky believers in the efficacy of
"Mother Ganga" as a purifier of sin dip themselves beneath the yellow
water, rinse out their mouths, scrape their tongues, nib, duck, splash,
and disport; they fairly revel in the sacred water; happy, thrice happy
they look, as well indeed they might, for now are they certain of future
happiness. What the "fountain filled with blood" is to the Christian, so
is the precious water of dear Ganga to the sinful Hindoo: all sin