ariety in their form; and all of them, even the largest and most
frequented, are small compared with Christian and Muhammadan places of
worship. They are circular, with heavy domes narrowing towards the top,
and, as a rule, with a narrow doorway alone admitting light and air.
Some domes are of respectable height, but none approach that of many of
our church towers and steeples. Most of the temples are sacred to Shiva,
Mahadeo, the Great God, as his devotees delight to call him, and are
surmounted by his trident. Many have a pole at their side with a flag
attached to it. One sees at a glance they must, though small, have cost
large sums, as they are most solidly built of hewn stone, and have all
more or less of ornamentation. A few temples are built close to the
water's edge. One has got off its equilibrium, and looks as if it were
about to fall into the stream; but for many years it has remained in
this tottering position.

[Sidenote: BATHING IN THE SACRED STREAM.]

While the houses and temples on the riverside are viewed with interest,
the visitor, as he looks from his boat, is still more interested in the
living mass before him. It is the early morning. The sun has just risen
above the horizon, and is shedding its bright rays on the river and the
city. It looks as if all the inhabitants were astir and had made their
way to the river. Crowds are seen on the steps, some even then making
their way back after having bathed, and others going down to the stream.
Thousands are in the water. Men and women, boys and girls, are
there--the men and women at a short distance from each other.
Immediately above the water are platforms with huge stationary umbrellas
over them, and on these men are squatted, whose portly appearance
betokens ease and plenty. These are Gungaputrs--sons of the Ganges--a
class of Brahmans, whose duty it is to take care of the clothes of the
people as they bathe, to put a mark on their forehead to show they have
bathed, and who receive a small offering from them as they retire. All
bring with them their bathing-dress, and they most deftly take off and
put on their scanty clothing. When the bathing is over they wring out
the clothes in which they have bathed, fill with Ganges water a small
brazen vessel, which each person carries with him, and make their way
into the city to pay their homage to their favourite gods before
proceeding to their homes. I have been told that the very devout among
them visit som